#i remember in the first few sessions she was being all mysterious and cool headed. like he she had a few fun moments

[w1lmuttart]

Thinking about Amber Bolt again and wondering about the lore you have for her 👀

Hooo boy where do I even start

Aight so first off, Amber is actually not her real name, it's an adventuring name she uses to follow Tabaxi naming conventions, to make her seem less suspicious. her name, given by her caretaker who took her in when she was orphaned in waterdeep, is Rhema. That caretaker, is working for the zhentarim and had groomed Rhema into joining as well to repay her for all good she's done for her. So now Rhema works as a spy and blackmailer for the zhents 👍

Now, around five sessions in, the cats out of the bag (ha) and the party knows, one of the party members have a bounty on his head and Rhema had to weigh whether killing him due to a petty argument between siblings (it was his sister who set the bounty) or keeping him alive for the sake of the mission they're all on which means going against orders. For now she has chosen the latter and is an absolute anxious mess over it lmao

[misssunflowersandsangria]

At Home with You

Happy @inoshikachoweek week and happy best friends day!  I love every incarnation of Team 10 so I really wanted to write something at least for the last day.  Thank you to @thespookymoth and @pewpewpew for hosting this week!  Hope that you enjoy! 

Prompt:  Best Friends

Summary:  When you’re best friends home and family can take many different forms.

*

**

At Home with You

**

Ino

“There you are!”  Curious brown eyes looked up hearing a familiar voice. Inojin grinned watching the deer trot over towards him excitedly. 

Inojin pet the deer’s fur affectionately, thankful that he seemed to still remember him.  “I’m sorry I haven’t been around a lot lately.”  The animal didn’t seem to mind and welcomed the loving touches.  

“Come on buddy, let’s take a walk. I’ve got some time before I have to go home.” Inojin could have sworn there was some understanding in those soft eyes as the animal fell into step with him.  

The peace and solitude the dense forest provided was much needed after so many difficult and grueling missions. He found solace in the twilight with his faithful companion by his side. 

The pair took breaks along their walk to eat and drink. Their gait relaxed and steady with no goal or end in sight. Inojin would feed the animal treats and pet his soft fur.  All the while the deer nuzzled in familiarity into his gentle hands. 

Coming to a stop they relaxed by the water. Inojin reclined into the deers side to sketch the landscape. Nestling into the deer’s soft fur and comforting warmth.  It was this quiet slice of heaven away safe from the noise. 

“So this is where you’ve been running off to?” 

Inojin looked startled, surprised by the amused looks on his Uncle and Aunt’s face. 

Subconsciously Inojin stepped forward placing himself between the deer and them. 

“We don’t mind you coming here but you need to let your parents know where you are.”  Temari gently scolded him.  

Shikamaru looked curiously behind Inojin. A familiar deer posed as though it was ready to defend its friend if necessary. 

“I assume your visits have to do with the deer behind you?” 

“I come by when I dont have missions to see him.”  Inojin admitted with a sigh.  There was no way to lie his way out of this. 

Temari and Shikamaru were surprised by the revelation.  Shikamaru recognized the deer as the injured one that Inojin had found and he had treated.  He remembered Inojin being terrified and distraught, hoping the deer might make it through. They didn’t quite realize how much of an impression the experience had made. 

Temari had seen him earlier heading towards the forest where he was able to walk about freely. It seemed odd though that he was going there alone. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” 

Inojin shrugged, not really having a response. He thought it might be embarrassing to admit having grown attached to the deer.  

“I couldn’t…I couldn’t save Akkun. So when I was able to save this one I felt connected to him I guess.”  

They knew all about that little creature that he’d bonded with during the mission in Iwagakure. Ino and Sai had considered getting him a pet to help with his grief but worried it might be too soon. 

Shikamaru moved forward towards them, kneeling in front of him.  “Your grandfather used to love walking through here too.”  

“Really?”  Inojin asked surprised but always happy to learn anything he could about his grandfather. 

“The Yamanaka jutsu can be very difficult mentally and spiritually. He always found reconnecting with nature as a way to reset.  He even had his own favorite deer. Shikadai’s grandfather would complain that he was out here more than him.”  Shikamaru remembered when his father would go out into the dense forest to check on his friend. 

“Inojin attachments and bonds are a wonderful thing. Companionship and friendship make life meaningful.  They aren’t something you ever have to hide.” Inojin smiled up at Temari, her words having a lifetime of experience behind them. 

“Did you give him a name?” 

“Aki, I found him on the first day of Fall.”  

“Well thank you Aki for taking care of Inojin here.”  

Shikamaru kindly rubbed the deer’s head.  Sure the Naras were known for their connection with these animals but he was thankful that Inojin saw their value as well.

“Let your mom and dad know, okay kid. That way they won’t worry.”  Temari guided him gently.  She could understand his draw towards the Nara forest.  She would often escape there just to have some quiet.  

Inojin nodded, grateful that he didn’t have to keep his trips a secret.  That he could tell his parents and his teammates about his friend.  He’d been wanting his parents to come join him for a while now. 

“Let Shikadai know you’re coming out here.  He’s supposed to be guarding and keeping this place secure.  Seeing as you’ve been able to come in and out undetected means he’s not doing his job.”  He laughed but hoped his friend wouldn’t be too upset. 

The trio remained out there in the fading sunlight as more deer came forward recognizing the clan heads.  Enjoying the mystery and wonder of it all.

Inojin at times was just like his father.  He struggled with certain social cues and norms.  Often finding himself confused by some customs. But he found there in the quiet of the forest, with his faithful friend, and family a feeling of home. 

Shika

Shikadai took a tentative taste before a thoughtful look crossed his face. 

“It needs something.” 

Karui took a spoonful of the broth before nodding. “You’re right. Go ask your Uncle Chouji for more tomatoes.”  

Shikadai went into motion and made his way over to where the Akimichi was prepping the ingredients.  ChoCho would often complain about her parents but Shikadai found them to be warm and welcoming.  Always genuinely happy to see him. 

“We’re gonna need more diced tomatoes.”

“You got it, kid.” 

Shikadai wasn’t sure when it happened exactly. He’d been over at the Akimichi’s one night for dinner and had been roped into helping. Despite his silent complaints, he’d actually enjoyed the cooking process.  It was almost like a science experiment. Mixing the ingredients to get the perfect reaction. After that day he’d come by ever so often to learn more techniques and to try out various recipes. Who better than an Akimichi to teach him to cook? ChoCho loved it when he came over, as he often made enough for her to try a new dish.  

Today he had something special planned. His uncles had sent him a recipe for his mom's favorite dish from Suna. He wanted it to be a surprise so he’d made his way to the Akimichi kitchen. 

“My dad taught your grandfather how to cook,”  Chouji told him with a grin. Shikadai looked up, never having heard this story. 

“When they were younger your grandmother was just as good of a cook as she is now.  Uncle Shikaku wanted to impress her.  It was a complete failure.  Apparently, he managed to burn through not only the food but multiple pots and pans.  He was banned from cooking on Akimichi lands for a while.  After my dad forgave him he gave him a few less-flammable lessons.  It wasn’t too helpful but there was some improvement.  Your father is no better.  For being geniuses they sure are useless in the kitchen.  You might be the only hope for the Nara line.”

Shikadai smiled at the thought.  His mother had mentioned something similar to him when he’d helped her a few times.  It wasn’t a skill that Naras were known for nor would it be one that he advertised.  Still, it was a useful ability and oftentimes a needed distraction. 

Karui yelled a few additional items they needed and he stood next to Chouji prepping the additional items.  

They added the required ingredients, checking the flavor as he went along.  The two Akimichis watched him with a smile at his attention and precision.  Temari’s look of pure determination on his face and his movements were all Shikamaru.  Like the dish he made, he was a perfect mix. 

“I’ve got to hand it to you kid.  You’re a natural.  You’re always welcomed in my kitchen.”  Karui praised him after tasting the completed recipe. 

She affectionately ruffled his hair. “Your mom is going to love it.” 

Shikadai recalled those precious times together around a table with warm food between them.  

A home-cooked meal was the perfect reminder of home.

Cho

“Thanks again for coming by!  Your wife is going to love the flowers.”  ChoCho yelled out to the customer.

She then worked to spray down the counter then watered a few of the plants.  It was a quiet day at the store but she loved it nonetheless.  The Yamanaka flower shop was one of her favorite places in the village. She was getting older.  Their team missions were more complicated and layered. For her. working at a place that was so normal was a needed reprieve.

It started a few weeks ago.  Inojin had begged her to cover his shift while his parents were off on a mission.  She agreed only after he offered her a king’s ransom in snacks and a no-questions-asked favor to be cashed in the future.  After getting a quick training session and learning the ropes she thoroughly enjoyed her time there.  She was in the company of flowers and got to meet and interact with people all over the village.  It was a natural fit.  From then on ever so often Inojin would ask her to fill in.  She’d whine and complain which increased Inojin’s offerings but she’d ultimately agree.

“ChoCho!”  She smiled brightly seeing the Yamanakas walk in.  They knew that she was there for the afternoon but assured her they’d be back as early as possible.  

ChoCho idolized Ino.  The  Yamanaka Clan head was strong, wise, and beautiful.  ChoCho loved her mom but she was still an authority figure.  Ino was her cool Aunt.  Since she could remember the blonde had assured her that she’d be a willing confidant and support.  There were a few times that she elicited her help and advice.  

“We appreciate you coming by to help us,”  Sai thanked her with a soft smile.  He wasn’t a man of many words but he was always kind and welcoming towards her.  His smile reminded her very much of her teammate.

“I love it here.  I get to see so many people and hear a lot of different stories.”  Her favorites were always of nervous individuals hoping to find that perfect bouquet to impress a special someone. 

“It’s a pretty special place.  Your grandfather still buys your grandmother flowers every month on the 7th.  When I'd come here to help my dad I always loved seeing him come in.  I'd help him pick out the flowers to give her.”  ChoCho fondly thought about the blossoms that would consistently fill their home.  She couldn’t help but love how connected their families were.  

 Sai helped her move a few buckets of flowers to refill the shelves.  “When your father started dating your mom he didn’t know what her favorite flower was so he ended up just buying all of them,”  Sai recalled that day.  

He’d come to spend time with Ino when the Akimichi had come in a panicked state.  Their team had argued back and forth about the best arrangement of flowers until Shikamaru convinced Chouji to just buy them all and figure out Karui’s favorite later. 

ChoCho grinned surprised by the sweet story.  Surprised that the old man had some moves back in the day.  

Her father had come by earlier to her embarrassment but they had worked together to arrange a beautiful bouquet for her mother. She often wondered at their relationship but their love was something undeniable.  ChoChohoped that her teammates took notes about how to treat those they loved. 

ChoCho fell into step with the Yamanakas helping to clean up before she was set to leave.  And of course, she was on her way to see her team.  

“You’re always welcome here, you know that right?”  Ino assured her. She had a special bond with the Akimichi.  It wasn’t always easy being the female in their trio.

Surrounded by a melody of flowers and the warmth of family, this was just like a second home.  

“I know.”

* **

The 17th generation of InoShikaCho sat together in the cramped booth talking about everything and nothing all at once.  A similar scene of love and familiarity having occurred many times in the past.  

At times the pressure to uphold their family’s legacy could be suffocating.  Certain heavy expectations and hopes were placed on their shoulders.  But they knew at the end of the day they were luckier than most.  They were teammates and best friends.  Not just by circumstances but by choice.  No matter what happened in this life, because of that bond they’d always have a home. 

*

**

Did you see what I was trying to do here?  I love the customs that each family has but I like to see them interacting with each other.

Life got pretty hectic so writing needed to take a back seat.  I’m thankful that I was able to write what little I could.  I hope to be posting more regularly soon.  Thanks for your support and good vibes. 

 My sincere love, thanks and admiration for everyone who supported this week!  You are all amazing!  Love, love to you all!

[demomonic-murmurs]

Hii!! Can i make a request? I really loved your shimizu & yachi threesome!! Can i ask for a tribbing/scissoring follow up for it?

Another Lesson [Kiyoko × Reader × Yachi]

Yes hello anon I love you please always ask me for more wlw content.

This is a continuation of this story I wrote for my Kinktober prompt list.

Pairing: Kiyoko × Reader, Yachi × Reader, Kiyoko × Yachi

Summary: Kiyoko and you teach Yachi a few more things about the beauty of gals being pals. She is an eager learner.

Tags: Threesome, F/F/F, Kiyoko and Reader are in a steady relationship and Yachi joins in, Heavy Make-Out Sessions, Fingering, Tribbing, Scissoring, Sex Toys, Spit, Squirting

Yachi was adorable really. When [Name] and Kiyoko had invited her for an arts and crafts night, she had been ecstatic. They almost felt bad for using it as an excuse to indulge her again.

Sex with Yachi had been pleasurable for the three of them and [Name] felt oddly excited whenever she thought about the petite blonde joining them again. There was something about the way she could show Kiyoko's flushed face off, eyes red from crying and sobbing, mouth agape, drove running down looking absolutely fucked. Their first time with Yachi had been fairly vanilla, easing her into the idea that yes, two women could be together as well, a concept Yachi had been aware of and fantasized alone in her dark dorm room, desperately humping against the pillow for friction.

But [Name] wanted more. She wanted to show Yachi more. As much as she wanted to know. As much as she wanted to indulge them. As much as they wanted to induldge her.

The evening started off in a decent manner. [Name] knew about Yachi's love for scrapbooks and suggested it as an activity they could partake in over at her and Kiyoko's shared apartment. Such an innocent activity really. Yachi was nervous regardless, as if she was already anticipating something, hoping for something. She had been over at their place before. Kiyoko had been one of her best friends since high school and [Name] was someone she felt at ease with. The source for her anxiety was more so the fact that the last time she had been over they had done... it.

"Relax", Kiyoko murmured and rested a hand on Yachi's shoulder in a comforting manner before sliding down on the floor next to her, putting the plate of tea down on the table cluttered with various colorful pieces of paper, scissors and glue.

Yachi shuddered at the contact and thanked her upperclassman. [Name] returned as well, carrying a stack of pretty looking pieces of leftover fabric. The blonde knee that the taller girl liked to sew in her free time but was delighted all the same that she wanted to share something important to her with Yachi as well.

Yachi's instructions were easy to follow. It was easy for [Name] to understand why Yachi had been in a university preparation class. She carefully constructed ideas that seemed plausible to the two lovers. The way the usually meek and shy girl spoke with so much vigor in her voice was beyond endearing to see for the two of them.

Eventually, they began to finish their projects up and Kiyoko excused herself to the bathroom. [Name] understood her girlfriends signal and rested a hand on Yachi's thigh. She tensed up and flushed, hands gripping on the sheet of paper she was trying to put away. The blonde let out a squeak when [Name] began to draw circles, fingers dragging across her clothed thigh. Yachi could feel a weak spike of arousal shooting through her.

"I didn't mean to startle you Hitoka", [Name] murmured, her movements halting, "If you don't want to-"

"Please", Yachi yelled, shutting her eyes.

[Name] raised an eyebrow. "Please what?"

"...no please continue... I... want to..."

[Name] smiled. "Can I kiss you Hitoka?"

Yachi nodded feverishly. [Name] cupped the petite woman's cheek and leaned in to press a kiss against her lips, first softly before gripping at her thigh again, making Yachi gasp and granting [Name] access to her mouth. With her tongue moving against her own, Yachi could only squeeze her thighs together in an attempt to get some relief against the wetness forming between her legs. She leaned back, only to hit something soft.

"Oh. You have started without me."

Kiyoko's calm voice brought Yachi back to reality. She broke the kiss and turned her face to meet her upperclassman's gaze and Yachi could feel her words die on her still tingling tongue.

Kiyoko's colour was purple. A dark shade of purple. Alluring and mysterious. The thight lace hugging her skin looked divine, intended. The stark contrast of purple against her pale skin accompanied by her luscious black hair and storm grey eyes made her look even more like a goddess than she usually did.

"She is gorgeous isn't she?", [Name] whispered, hand resting on Yachi's shoulder just like it had earlier today. "I designed it myself. But if you ask me I would've gone for a see through fabric around her breasts. And something more thong like for her panties."

Kiyoko flushed before whacking her girlfriend on the head.

"You are definitely a reflection of Aphrodite my love. Absolutely and utterly horny", she uttered, rolling her eyes.

Somehow, they always managed to calm her nerves. Even now, with Yachi's arousal making her panties stick uncomfortably against her pussy and Kiyoko sitting behind her in the most gorgeous pair of lingerie she had ever seen, she felt calm.

"I could make you a set as well", [Name] stated casually, "I'd just have to take your size."

[Name]'s hand wandered alongside her waist before coming to a halt at her chest, gently cupping her breasts. Yachi let out a squeak and tried to spin around again, back to facing [Name] but was stopped in her endeavor by Kiyoko's plush lips.

Kissing Kiyoko was different from kissing [Name]. [Name] was wild. Her kisses left you breathless, yearning for more. Kiyoko's were slow and sensual, soft and gentle in their nature. Yachi felt as if she had ascended. Being trapped between the two hottest women she had ever layed her eyes upon fulfilled every fantasy she had developed after accidentally stumbling upon a yuri manga one of her teammates had left in high school. (She was still sure it was either Tanaka or Nishinoya, which made her wonder what they'd say seeing Kiyoko, seeing her like this.)

"I think you'd great in stockings. Something flowey and soft. A soft pastel pink would definitely be your colour", [Name] continued, thumbs brushing against Yachi's nipples. She moaned, muffled by Kiyoko's skilled tongue dragging across hers.

"I think so too", Kiyoko murmured against her neck after breaking the kiss, leaving Yachi gasping for breath, "maybe strawberries could fit her as a theme. Maybe a strapless bra with a heart cut out right here."

Kiyoko rested her hand right between Yachi's breasts, which were still pleasured by [Name]'s hands.

"I really don't- ah- know if that would look so- so good on me", Yachi whimpered self-consciously, tears forming in her eyes, a mix of pleasure and hesitation swirling in her hazed brown orbs.

"It would", Kiyoko said simply, grasping Yachi's shirt and pulling it above her head.

"I absolutely would", [Name] agreed and lifted her up slightly so her girlfriend could pull off Yachi's pants.

There was a dark wet spot on Yachi's white panties that she felt embarassed for possessing. Still dazed, Yachi barely even noticed [Name] opening her baby blue bra and letting it slide down her shoulders, leaving her breasts bare to the cool air of the apartment.

"Your boobs are so cute Hitoka", [Name] squealed excitedly, "I can't get enough of them. So adorable and perky. Plus you have pretty nipples."

Yachi yelped out in surprise and felt the heat rise back into her face. [Name] was forward and it left Yachi more than breathless.

"Don't mind her. She just has a preference for... breasts", Kiyoko sighed.

[Name] laughed and nodded before turning to Yachi. "She says that as if she doesn't like the attention. She does. I made her squirt once after I sucked on her nipple. Ms. prim and proper is more into it than she allows herself to be."

Yachi let out a short, breathless snort that she would have normally felt embarrassed about but they put her at ease. Any feeling of isolation or anxiety vanished as soon as she heard [Name]'s teasing voice or felt Kiyoko's comforting touch.

"So now that the lust has temporarily passed should we change the setting back into the bedroom? I dunno if uh- the prospect of getting cum over our cute scrapbooks is a thing to look forward to", [Name] stated, her hands still resting casually on Yachi's breasts.

It was cold without them shielding her boobs from the cool temperatur, Yachi thought as they shuffled from the living room into Kiyoko and [Name]'s bedroom that felt all too familiar in that setting. It was messier than last time, which meant that they had probably been a bit anxious having her over as well. The thought comforted her.

"Come here Hitoka", [Name] said, pulling her out of her thoughts. After undressing, she had seated herself on the bed, Kiyoko behind her, her head resting on her girlfriends shoulder and [Name] was patting on the space on her lap.

Yachi gulped, her hands wandering to her underwear, before remembering how wild [Name] had gotten the last time when Kiyoko was still wearing her panties and decided against it. Trying it out couldn't hurt. She knew it was fine if she told them to stop at any moment.

"Good. One leg on each side of my thigh. Lower yourself into a comfortable position okay?"

Yachi nodded, though could barely contain a whimper as she felt her clit brush against [Name]'s leg. Her hands had found their way around her neck where Kiyoko had intertwined their fingers in a comforting act while [Name]'s had wrapped around Yachi's waist. From her position she could only look into Kiyoko's eyes, lust buried under a thick layer of reassurance for the sake of her comfort and feeling of security.

"Rub yourself against me Yachi. Your tempo okay?", [Name] said, her fingers running comforting circles on Yachi's thin waist.

Yachi nodded and bit her lip as she pushed herself against the older woman's leg. She let out a moan, her legs shaking, unable to stop her from falling forward, her head resting against [Name]'s shoulder.

"Is too much", Yachi whimpered, "Wanna move but its too difficult."

Her pitiful gaze locked with Kiyoko's who held her hands a little tighter, offering her words of encouragement.

"That's fine baby", [Name] said, her voice vibrant next to her ear, "Do you want me to move you?"

Yachi nodded furiously and the grip on her waist loosened as [Name]'s hand wandered lower.

"If it's too much, tell us", Kiyoko said as she scooted to them so she was now sitting flush against her lover's back, her face just a few centimeters away from Yachi's.

[Name] rested her foot at one of the wooden planks of their bed so Yachi was now sitting a little elevated and let her lower body slide down her leg.

Yachi let out a loud moan, the fabric of her panties rubbing deliciously against her clit. The noises were eagerly swallowed by Kiyoko who had let go of one of Yachi's hands to cradle her face instead as she moved her tongue against the blonde's.

Her mind was hazy as [Name] moved her up her leg again, this time pushing her down more firmly. Her pussy was aching, enjoying the friction but not satisfied, throbbing for something, anything inside, filling her up.

"Fuck you're so wet Yachi", [Name] groaned as she flexed her thigh sending a jolt through Yachi's core. Her pace grew rougher, increasing in speed. Yachi broke the kiss with Kiyoko and moaned, resting her forehead on [Name]'s shoulder. Kiyoko didn't rest however, sneaking her arms under her girlfriends to gain access to Yachi's nipples, pinching and groping them eagerly.

Yachi let out a shrill squeak when she felt herself growing close to her release, the familiar heat building up in the pit of her stomach. [Name] wrapped one arm around her waist, making her arch her back and her chest closer to Kiyoko's greedy hands, and let her now free hand wander down to Yachi's clit. Each grind allowed [Name]'s fingers to brush over Yachi's clit and ever so slightly push in the velvety warmth of her walls.

Trying to chase that feeling of satisfaction, Yachi steadied herself on her shaky knees and lifted herself up before beginning to shakily fuck herself on [Name]'s fingers, pressing her chest against [Name]'s, trapping Kiyoko's hands accidentally between them.

[Name]'s pushing and pulling stilled as she felt in amazement the way Yachi was rolling her hips against her, trying to rub her clit against [Name]'s wrist. Her thin cotton white panties were ruined by this point as Yachi desperately tried to push more of [Name]'s fingers inside of ger only to be obstructed by the devilish material in their path.

[Name] cooed and obliged Yachi's wish and pulled her panties to the side so her fingers could reach her properly.

Yachi screamed when [Name]'s fingers sheated themselves fully inside of her, the stretch of her two digits being too much for the petite blonde. Regardless, Yachi's grip on [Name]'s shoulders tightened as she continued her brutal pace, Kiyoko's fingers pinching and rubbing her and [Name]'s nipples together nearly enough to send her over the edge.

"Kiyoko", Yachi sobbed, tears welling in her eyes. The dark haired beauty stopped trailing kissing on her girlfriends naked shoulder and locked eyes with the wrecked blonde, who dove in to kiss her desperately. The kiss was clumsy and startled Kiyoko but she returned Yachi's eagerness.

[Name]'s fingers brushing against Yachi's sweet spot was enough to drive her over the edge. Yachi let out a loud moan as she rode out her orgasm, her cum splattering against [Name]'s hand and thigh.

Her chest was heaving rapidly as [Name] lowered her on the bed and Kiyoko cleaned the wetness on [Name] and Yachi with a towel. As her hand softly brushed against Yachi's abused cunt by accident while cleaning her thigh it twitched weakly and Yachi let out a small whimper.

"You're a horrible influence on her my dearest. Look at her already craving more again... she must have used you as an example."

"I think you're the worse influence."

"Says the woman who got off on watching her friend cum. You're close aren't you? I can't blame you, I'm feeling quite turned on myself. Do you want to-?"

"Yes."

"You're so cute when you're eager."

The conversation barely made sense in Yachi's hazy mind. Only slowly was she regaining her ability to think. Her whole body felt like it was on fire, the ache between her legs not having quite left her body just yet.

Kiyoko's loud moan distracted her from continuing the thought, if you could really call it that, and she haphazardly pulled herself and to choke at the sight before her.

Kiyoko's legs were spread and she was laying halfway on her stomach, her bra and panties discarded to the side, her heavy breasts gravitating towards the soft mattress underneath them. [Name] was kneeling between her legs, trapping one of her legs while resting the other one on your shoulder.

[Name] was rutting against her and Yachi could see something pink entering and leaving their pussies. She was mesmerized by the fast and brutal pace [Name] was setting, much more feral than she was with her. Her gaze fell on Kiyoko and she felt a jolt of arousal shooting through her core.

Her face was erotic, something straight out of a hentai or porno, or at least what Yachi thought it would look like. Her hair was dishevled, her tongue was sticking out drool dripping on the soft matress underneath them, her eyes were rolling back in her head, her breast pouncing against the sheets nipples gracing them ever so slightly and her moans were titillating.

"She is so hot like that isn't she?", [Name] grunted out and doubled her efforts after Kiyoko let out a particularly loud moan after the dildo had brushed against her sweet spot.

"What... what is that?", Yachi asked, breaking her gaze with [Name], her eyes flickering to the pink monstrosity. [Name] smirked.

"Its a double headed dildo", [Name] explained,"We enjoy them a lot because we can do this."

[Name] pushed her hips down, forcing more of the dildo to be swallowed by Kiyoko's puffy pussy. She angled her hips and let their clits brush against each other, inducing a loud moan between the both them.

"Kiss her Yachi. Show us what you've learned", [Name] breathed out, rocking her hip against Kiyoko's, enjoying the friction this position was giving them for their clits.

Yachi nodded and crawled forward. She was wet again, the juices running down her thighs.

"Kiyoko", Yachi murmured, hands cradling her upperclassman's soft cheeks. Her eyes were hazy, almost unable to focus on Yachi, an almost dumb smile gracing her lips.

"Open your mouth", Yachi commanded, shocking herself with the authority in her voice. The black haired beauty did as she asked, opening her mouth eagerly for whatever the blonde woman had in store for her.

Yachi steeled her nerves and pressed her lips to Kiyoko's, her tongue twisting around hers just like [Name] had kissed her earlier. Kiyoko did not attempt to fight back whatsoever, enjoying Yachi's assault on her mouth. Yachi bit down on Kiyoko's lip until she could taste the blood on her tongue.

"Just like that Yachi", [Name] praised, the fingers of her free hand finding her aroused cunt and pushing two fingers inside of her.

Yachi broke the kiss and let out a moan, surprised by the sudden intrusion, the grip on Kiyoko's face tightening as their share spit ran down Yachi's lips, dripping into Kiyoko's mouth who eagerly swallowed it.

"Cumming", [Name] grunted, followed by a incohesive moan from Kiyoko and a yelp by Yachi as she buried her fingers deeper into her pussy.

"Holy shit Yachi", [Name] panted out, Yachi's head snapping back, "She is squirting."

Holy shit indeed, Yachi thought as she watched Kiyoko's juices squirt out of her, drenching not only herself but [Name]'s stomach as well. Then she went slack, panting heavily, trying to regain her breath.

[Name] pulled the toy out of her pussy but left in Kiyoko's side of it.

"She doesn't like to be empty immediatly after", [Name] explained, grabbing a paper towel from her night stand to wipe away Kiyoko's cum from her stomach.

"What exactly was that?", Yachi asked, her eyes still glued at Kiyoko's cunt which was red from all the abuse it had experienced today, now matching her swollen lips.

"Squirting", [Name] said, "One of the hottest things a woman is capable of doing. Kiyoko's a squirter. She's just too sensitive after all."

Yachi wasn't exactly sure what that meant but just settled on googling it later. She didn't want to ruin the mood.

"You didn't get to finish yet did you?"

"Ah, no it's fine-"

"Do you want to try it too? We have a smaller one we could practice with first and then", [Name] mused, glancing at her close to being passed out girlfriend, "you could take my position and I will guide you along. Poor Kiyoko didn't have her fill yet but she needs a moment."

Yachi shuddered, remembering the last time. They had been awake almost the entire night trying to satsify Kiyoko.

"I'd love to try out", Yachi said, trying to hide her excitement as her pussy twitched, awaiting the attention.

Girls love was the best in the end.

[leviiattacks]

Two Faced | Chapter Eight

↳ levi ackerman, the very person who was about to kindly behead you by a surprising turn of events manages to become your loving husband? you would be elated if this was true love, but it’s all thanks to a mysterious magic spell that your life is spared, for now at least.

pairing :: duke!levi x duchess!reader genre :: royal au ??? (at this point idek) angst, fluff, slice of life etc ?? word count :: 4.8k author note :: i’ve been very ill so yeah, not the best writing but i really can’t go that long without wanting to write so i ended up writing an update, i hope you enjoy it, it’s longer than usual :D sorry for any mistakes it hasn’t been proof read at all :-( → next part coming soon!!

“Hey, newbie you haven't spoke about your home town much have ya?"

You lift your head, verifying Reiner's suspicions with a nod. You recall he's the same distasteful blonde brute who made those snide remarks about Hange. He must be at least a towering six foot if his shadow is able to cover the majority of the Sun's rays from hitting you.

You would maybe bother to give him and his inquiry more attention than you currently are if he hadn't been so unnecessarily impolite during the morning speeches.

Calves yelping in stinging pain from the first tastes of the full time training regime you simply cannot find the effort to strain your mind with small talk.

Temples throbbing it feels as if a sword has been forced through the side of your head,  but that's not it at all. Reiner has thrown a small rock at you and you hear him chuckle under his breath.

Twisting your position so you face him you glare in displeasure.

Although you don't particularly enjoy the idea of joining Levi's unit and having to become a concealed agent of sorts you can't really take your pickings at how it is you wish to survive. You're going to have to deal with it and you've come to the stage of acceptance now.

However, you are not willing to respect the attitude some of these cadets are giving you, it's clear there's already a strong hierarchy in place.

Reiner just so happens to be one of the big guns from what you've been able to observe. He possess strong upper body strength and his hand to hand combat isn't a laughing matter either. That means he's higher up in the ladder of cadets, that's for sure. To top it all off you know you're not as powerful as other members in the team in terms of skill and he's probably silently making a mockery of you for it.

Pursing your lips you decide to play this game cautiously, asking him what it is he needs from you isn't the best option. You're aware he's after something, it's written all over his face. You practically know every deceptive look in the book off by heart. You suppose it's the only perk you got out of living in a noble household for most of your life.

"Why do you care?" You bluntly question him.

"Ohh, you're feisty. Might not want to butt heads with Annie."

"Not sure who that is but I don't plan on it."

Turning away from him it look like you're distracting yourself by collecting pieces of firewood. Trailing around you act as uncaring as possible to annoy him. You need to gauge this man's reaction somehow.

Your plan seems to be working in your favour because you're able to see his footing shift from his natural stance, it looks as if he's about to risk charging at you due to your vulnerable position but you rotate again offering him a knowing smile.

You don't tell him you're conscious of his suspicious nature but if he's quick witted enough he'll be able to figure out you aren't a threat and apparently don't have a clue what it is he's up to. The only reason he'd even consider attacking you would be if he saw you as an issue. For now your act should at least keep him at bay.

"Fine. I'll tell you about my hometown, I'm just..." You pause to make yourself look believable and proceed to look up at him through your lashes, you dart your gaze away and awkwardly scratch the back of your neck exuding coyness.

"I'm incredibly homesick. I miss mother. I always made supper for her, now I can only pray she's not eating burnt chicken." Your act has to be working because his eyes soften and he takes half of the firewood in your arms offering to help you carry it.

"My mum's a great cook, can't relate squirt."

"Who you calling squirt?" You playfully snap back.

"I call everybody that, even Captain Levi... Well, when he isn't around to hear it."

You bite the inside of your cheek at the mention of the Levi's name.

“So you and the Captain? What’s that all about?” His question makes no sense at all, one minute he wants to prod and poke in your personal home life yet the next minute he's asking questions about Levi. The doubts you have surrounding him only thicken.

You take a moment to consider his question,

“Whatever do you mean?” Clueless, you're delivery is excellent. Acting naive is easy enough, everyone within the corps has already decided that's what your automatic disposition is.

Reiner gives you a skeptical look then smiles faintly, “Glaring daggers at Jean after he got handsy with you?”

You cover your mouth with your free hand and laugh so hard the firewood nearly flies out of your grasp.

“Me and Jean are friends, and Levi? He just wanted to find a reason to get mad at us probably.” You hope the explanation suffices because you truly have no idea why Levi had done what he did.

Reiner hums in approval at your answer but he then grins.

“You on first name basis with the Captain?”

Fuck, you called him Levi.

Play it cool.

“Huh? When have I ever said his first name?” Clueless. Your delivery is still perfect.

“Just now.” He fires back, Reiner doesn't seem to be letting up but he doesn't know how smooth of a liar you are.

Living with your father for all those years conditioned you in ways you hadn't even noticed until quite recently.

“Did I? Pardon, I didn’t mean for it to slip out. Sometimes I silently curse him out in my head and forget to add his title.”

Your acting is impeccable, Reiner has no reason to doubt you. As you expect he doesn't instead he shifts the conversation to his hometown, just like you he doesn't explicitly mention a name. Reiner is sharp but he hasn't noticed the way you've left a name out just like him. He's terrible at catching out his own kind.

You decide at that moment that Reiner Braun is a liar. The accusation is more of a hunch meaning more investigation is required.

You won't inform any of the higher ups about it just yet.

The walk back to base is filled with excruciatingly troublesome small talk and you make a mental note to take Mikasa along with you next time it's your turn retrieve the firewood.

You can't afford any more close encounters with Braun or any of his possible accomplices.

Sniggers batter your ears as soon as you step foot onto the grounds, you have a sixth sense when it comes to spiteful bad-mouthing and after the abysmal day you've had you anticipate there will be unpleasant commentary.

"Seen the way Y/N ruined the assault course today?"

"We're the finalized cadets across all the regions of Paradis. That means we have to rely on that embarrassment to fight titans."

"Good Lord, someone have mercy on our souls."

Fellow cadets press on in their criticism thinking you aren't within earshot. That, or they purposefully aim for you to pay attention to the disapproval they have of your presence.

But, you do understand where they're coming from. You make another mental note - practice a bit more later today.

The gossiping isn't anything you're unfamiliar with, your father's palace never offered kindness to you or your existence. In fact it's rather comforting being talked badly about behind your back.

That statement sounds absurd but you can't explain it. Maybe it's due to Levi typically hurling his unnecessary remarks right at you without warning. Then again he does provide everyone with that treatment, even Commander Erwin.

As you hurry away increasing the distance between you and your loud mouthed team members you spot Levi from the corner of your eye. He's in conversation with Hange but you notice how his jaw is clenched in frustration, you feel a pinch over your skin when he spares you a fleeting look. Eyes acquainting yours. Paying  no attention to him you walk away as fast as you can.

The cadets only blow up in volume now, they definitely want you to hear what they have to say.

"Maybe we should ask the higher ups to throw her ou-"

"Questioning authority? Pesky mutineers aren't you?" Levi's booming voice shakes anyone within a five metre vicinity, he comes out of nowhere and seems nothing short of furious.

"You're all," He continues, voice rising, "Incredibly spineless aren't you?"

One of the cadets embellishes their face with a scowl, it doesn't go unnoticed by Levi but he astonishingly doesn't lash out, physically at least. His deathly glare is more than enough to finish the job.

Stupidly you suffer feeling your heart palpitate in your chest watching him talk to the group of three. Stupidly, you're getting your hopes up again.

He scoffs coldly, "If you're all talk why not offer to duel her?"

It doesn't take long for your heart to stop throbbing with its previous intensity. You know it was too good to be true. Levi suddenly defending you that is.

The gesture isn't done to protect or shield you. No, you're sure this man loathes you and is intending to persist on making your life as bleak and dreary as possible.

"Up to a battle Y/N?" The unnamed blonde cadet's scoffs in derision and you find yourself wanting to punch her square in the jaw.

Irritation sears through you but you meekly shake your head mumbling a weak "No thanks.", you're much too afraid to duel anyone just yet and you don't remember her from the training sessions. She must have been in a corner keeping to herself.

With all that being said and done you pathetically withdraw, and just like the past few days you sense Levi's piercing gaze erupting into your soul.

The blistering Sun hits every nook and cranny of the training ground. Waking up early already has you wanting to pass out and the heat isn't any help.

The crowd of cadets mumble in fatigue but observant Mikasa jabs you in the shoulder pointing out how far away Jean has stood from you.

You feel guilty that Jean had to suffer through the humiliation tossed at him yesterday but you are grateful to not deal with his constant questioning and talkative self this early in the morning.

All the way at the other side of the throng of soldiers he stands with Bert, who might you add is a mammoth of a man.

Through some digging (more like asking Mikasa) you've discovered he's close with Reiner and the blonde cadet from yesterday's confrontation, turns out she's the Annie that Reiner warned you off.

"ATTENTION!" Hange sing songs at the front of the training ground. They're jumping around along with Squad Leader Mike checking if everyone's in the correct uniform - Apparently the year prior a cadet showed up wearing a thick cardigan and fainted from heat stroke...

“Today’s exercise is a time to redeem yourself!” Hange’s eyes dart towards you and you smile at one another.

“A FIGHT TO THE DEATH!”

Everyone murmurs looking at each other in pure confusion.

“A fight up against another person. Whoever wins their individual fights will receive extra special privileges." The explanation seems simple enough and you’re confident that if you’re put up against the right people you can make it out safe.

The promise of a reward is also enticing.

The 104th Training Corps are thrilled, there’s nothing too hazardous about the task and it’s nothing difficult to ask for. Even you’re looking forward to it. The chance to rescue your reputation has you pumped up with adrenaline.

“My, my my. Don’t excite yourselves just yet little hens, there’s a pretty little catch.” Hange's voice is laced in mischief. This can't be any good.

Everyone stops breathing in unison and it’s pin drop silent.

“You must cause harm to your opponent in some way. Whether it be making them faint, breaking an arm, breaking a leg. There are no rules when it comes to playing dirty!”

With a playful shrug of their shoulder Hange hops off the podium.

Squad Leader Mike pulls out the list of competitors. He’s decided the line-up on his own and begins the announcement with Bertholdt.

“BERTHOLDT HOOVER..."

Bert turns to look back at Reiner hesitantly and for such a giant it’s adorable how worried he is when everyone else is perturbed thinking about the poor individual who has to go up against him.

"AGAINST Y/N L/N!"

The crowd falls silent and your mouth is wide, this is unjust there’s no way this is allowed.

“Hey, don’t you think that’s kinda unfair?” Krista speaks out for you even though Ymir is by her side trying to talk her out of getting involved.

“She stands no chance against him.” Reiner is supporting your cause too.

Mikasa takes a step forward. “I agree, it’s not right, may I take her place instead?”

“No, no! It’s alright, I’ll go for it.”

Honestly you don’t want the corps to see you as a coward. Bravery and courage is what brought everyone here. Your story is different. You’re here to selfishly save your own life, you aren’t anywhere near as valiant as the rest of them. The very least you can do is partake in activities correctly.

Stepping up to the podium you stand by Bertholdt he gives you a pitiful look whilst he mutters an apology.

Mike continues announcing the names. A few include Jean against Mikasa (Jean may as well forfeit), Marco against Annie and Connie against Reiner - that pairing eases you. At least you aren't in this alone. You and Connie stand no chance against those beasts.

Everyone lines up in their separate areas and again Bertholdt is profusely apologizing asking if you want to fake faint or anything of the sort. You shake your head and promise to give it all you've got.

And then the games begin at the sound of the bell, and damn that Bertholdt because he isn't keeping to his end of the bargain. He lunges forward viciously aiming to crush your entire body but you swiftly dodge, he tries the same approach but when you duck out of the way again he stops knowing he needs to rethinks his strategy.

"Just give it up I'll win either way."

Well, the Mister nice guy act was definitely a believable performance. He was so convincing you even contemplated feigning unconsciousness when he proposed the idea to you.

Bertholdt is much slower than you giving you more time to deliberate your incoming moves. If you can get him to edge close enough to a nearby tree and deceive him into colliding with the oak trunk you should win - only on the condition that he passes out.

The scheme is far-fetched but it's your only hope.

Dashing from various corners he flies after you, each time unable to catch up to you.

That is until you stumble and lurch to the ground. The wind is knocked out of your lungs and you panic when a large hand clutches at your ankle. Your solution? Booting him right in the teeth.

However with an earth-shattering amount of force Hoover's hold on your ankle doesn't weaken. Instead he tightens his hold like a vice. You feel it bruise and the violet discoloration that'll be present in a few hours makes you wince.

Entire body going limp on command, you stop yourself from breathing - another talent you picked up back at the palace to avoid extra beatings.

When you no longer thrash around Bertholdt stalks in to check in on you and as expected he’s now towering over you, blood overflowing in terror.

"SQUAD LEADER HANGE, CAPTAIN LEVI SHE'S NOT MOVING!" He's roaring for their help frantic and anxious. If he's caused any permanent damage he's as good as dead meat.

"Oh my Lord. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

Bertholdt's voice is fractured in unadulterated horror and judging by the direction you hear it at he has to be facing away from you.

Unbolting your eyes you learn your assumption is correct and despite hurried footsteps being within audible range you take your chance by the reigns.

Leaping to your feet and with no forewarning you swing your leg to the back of his neck. Stunned by the surprise attack he falls to his knees and you situate yourself in front of the oak tree you've been eyeing from the time the exercise began.

"You cunning bitch." Staggering back up he makes a swift rebound. At this point all mercy has left him and his one true aim is to completely pulverize you.

Everything is falling into place. All you need to do is wait for the right moment and finally you come across it when he suddenly pounces for you. Darting to the left you leave the space open for your prey.

Poor Bertholdt falls right into the palm of your hands like a rag doll. His momentum can't be controlled and he smashes headfirst into the trunk with a loud crunch sounding out. Bark splits and scrapes off the tree upon impact.

His head has to throb and you don't want to imagine how painful it is to feel the rivulets of soreness.

He doesn't get up and only groans, you feel half bad but after the tricks and antics he pulled you come to the conclusion that it's all deserved.

"Well, Y/N, you've proven yourself to be quite quick witted." Hange's praise is strange to hear but you beam proud that you've proven your worth.

"Oi, don't get ahead of yourself." Levi orders. "It could have been pure luck."

In spite of Levi's pessimism you bask in the glory of your win.

A week into joining Levi's unit you're becoming more accustomed to the new environment, in fact the gossiping and horrible rumours stop completely after your win and interactions with your fellow comrades feel easier and lighter.

You think the taunts will have only got more relentless after the duel fiasco but you suppose Annie chose to be considerate and take pity on you.

"Your progress has been remarkable so far." You jump when you hear Jean's deep voice appear right next to you.

Looking around to see if any other cadets are around you finally release a breath you didn't even know you were holding in.

"Ah. Thank you." You murmur quietly.

"I know it's been a week since I was scolded by the Captain but this won't count as flirting will it?"

Impeding the one sided conversation you're reflecting, you're not sure what exactly about. Probably whether or not you should maintain the discussion - if it can even be referred to as such.

Forget it. You know what they say, you only live once.

Flicking his forehead you roll your eyes, "We were never flirting he's just an over dramatic, bitter hag. I put my money on the fact he's never felt the touch of a woman before."

Jean's eyes widen in disbelief, you half expect he'll split open in tremendous laughter but he looks terrified. Then you become conscious of the fact he's not even staring at you, his eyes are engrossed by whatever is behind you.

Unfortunately for you your body tells you all you need to know. His cologne floods into your nostrils, you can't even reassure yourself and pretend it's anyone else, you know he's the only one who smells that strongly of fresh linen.

Being unable to see him doesn't stop you from imagining his dark lifeless eyes accompanying themselves with what is before them.

It doesn't even take Jean a minute to abandon you, he breaks out into an awkward smile, hurriedly pats your shoulder before dashing away, dispersing all the way to the other end of the hallway in a matter of seconds and turning the corner away from you.

Heart rate soaring you hesitantly spin on your heel. Levi's stood there, looking beyond unimpressed.

You intend to breeze past him, cool and collected. You take a step forward but God has never been one to bless you with luck, stumbling and tripping over thin air lands you flying.

Ready for impact you brace yourself but it never comes, instead solid hands are firmly placed at the small of your back steadying your position and your palms have unceremoniously landed atop his torso.

"Play along." Levi's voice is low and rumbling, and you can't look him in the eyes. Not out of fear or dread, more so exhaustion but you muster the energy to look to your left. There Erwin and Hange stand giggling to themselves like children. As quick as you spot them they vanish in the same fashion. It's as if they were never there.

You're worn out and fatigued wanting nothing more than a good night's rest. If there's one thing you haven't grown used to it's the lack of sleep.

"Let go." Moving to shift his hands away from your waist you halt your movements when he without warning lets go of you, not even giving you the opportunity to renovate your balance.

Flying to the ground and landing with a thud you rub your backside at the blow.

Mirthlessly chuckling the lack of amusement is clear in the way he composes himself.

Making a dash for it sounds tempting but you may as well let him have his way. There's no action you can take to avoid him reprimanding you. It's your fault for having the gall to make that crude and foul-mouthed comment in the first place.

You gulp comprehending the situation is even worse now since you really only said it for the sole reason of Kirstein's amusement.

"Y/N, I'd like to have a word with you."

Hesitantly you look up at Levi, he has an indecipherable expression on his face, it's been a while since you've last been left in his company alone.

The two of you are stood in his office, his desk is flooded with papers, they're haphazardly scattered all over the place and spikes of worry weirdly make them self present in your belly. This isn't right. He'd never leave his work space in this state.

"Are you okay?" You ask it because you’re sure he isn't.

His shoulders and spine stiffen. "Cut the crap and keep the formalities to yourself." He chides, most definitely defensive in his stance.

Without asking him you shuffle to his desk stacking the papers into organised piles, most of the documents are related to an up and coming expedition and it's all beginning to add up. Even humanities strongest soldier has moments where he cracks.

Then you notice your name on the formation plan but before you're able to make anything out of it Levi snatches it off his desk and away from you stuffing it into his pocket.

Without another sound he observes you cleaning the rest of the mess away but doesn't ask for you to stop. There's no reason for him to.

If you do this maybe he'll go easier on you, yeah that's what your motivation is. That's not exactly the truth, really you're just concerned about whatever has him worked up.

Placing the last document in its rightful place you want to give your mind a moment to recollect itself but Levi doesn't think the same.

He places his arms on either side of the desk, trapping you with no way out. Oddly, there's nothing threatening about him looking down at you this time, the greys and blues of his iris' captivate you.

"Do you enjoy making a mockery of your husband?" The question is whispered. It's unanticipated and the title of husband is uncharacteristic coming out of his mouth.

"It was just a joke." You mumble your answer under your breath.

"Would you have spouted that shit in front of the rest of the unit?"

Mildly shaking your head he then sighs. He’s not angry, he genuinely seems let down.

"Do you prefer him over me?” You swear you hear the faintest hint of self-doubt.

His questions are getting more out of the ordinary by the second and you’re waiting for him to crack a malevolent grin before he ridicules you like he always does.

“Of course I don’t prefer him over you.”

“Prove it.”

Tilting your head up towards him you have no idea what he wants for you to do or say, why does this suddenly even matter to him?

And then you imagine it happen, him digging his hands into your shoulders. Your weight along with his shifting up against the desk making it creak. Your mind details how he would kiss you agitatedly and you flush thinking about how you would feverishly return the favour.

It seems like your imagination predicts the future. He grips your jaw with his hand, his touch isn’t firm and for once it’s quite soft. Relishing in the new experience as he leans in you secure your eyes shut in expectation.

Stroking your cheek with his thumb the warm sensation that courses through your body is rather pleasant. His hands come out to run against your body, pinching the sides of your waist. The motion makes your heart stall for a second. Involuntarily, you find yourself leaning into him.

“This seem like a man who hasn’t felt the touch of a woman before?”

And just like that he leaves you hanging. You flutter your eyes open and there he is. He’s back, the same cynical man, smirk etched onto his features, his body still parallel to yours.

You find yourself enraged at how he's just lead and dragged you on, you should have stuck with your gut feeling and not given into temptation but you know what they say, curiosity killed the cat. It's very obvious who the cat is in this situation.

Brows furrowing you can’t face him ever again after the scalding embarrassment inhabits your abdomen.

"Going to cry, Cadet?" He's pushing all your buttons, eagerly choosing to provoke you.

The frustration you’ve been feeling fills you to the brim and you clamp down on your bottom lip. If you must turn to inflicting harm onto yourself just to muffle the sound of your whimpers you will.

“Did you need to do that?” You choke out your response feeling helpless, still not looking at him.

“Simply gave you a taste of your own medicine.”

Silence.

"Sometimes I wish you killed me back then."

Silver eyes become dark and he visibly flinches at your confession.

Still boxed in-between his arms you attempt to push past but he continues to obstruct the exit. He's not done yet.

"I gave you another chance at life." His blunt one-sided view is about to drive you crazy.

"Within my first day at this unit I had to avoid being attacked by another cadet in the forest if you call that a life I do-"

“Who?”

“Not important."

“If you know what's good for you, you'll spit it out."

For the sole purpose of irking him you heavily shake your head to emphasise your refusal to give in and name the culprit. It's not like you want Reiner to fall into trouble because of you. He hasn't shown any suspicious or out of the ordinary behaviour since then and you worry what Levi is capable of doing when given a reason to hurt someone.

Glancing at him dismissively you try to make your point again. "They haven't done anything since. Therefore, it's of no importance."

Conflicted emotions scurry over his face as he looks at you.

"It's of importance if my wif-" He growls and stops midway. His hands grip onto the desk even harder, knuckles turning white.

Was he about to say, wife?

Levi immediately realizes what he's nearly just said sounds exceedingly questionable. A look of uncertainty flashes over his face and then it seems he loses all regard for self-control. His willpower isn't enough to get him through this situation and he only amplifies.

Encroaching further into the very little space amongst the both of you his tone is icy. "Tell me." He's glowering and for Reiner's wellbeing you decide you should just come out with it now. He'll be in an even more difficult spot if you don't.

"Reiner, it was Reiner." You gasp out the answer, shallow breath ragged. Head turning away to the side you're not particularly sure why you're so shaky and why you feel a tremor flood past you inundating your movement. It may all be a combination of how close he's standing to you and how intoxicatingly strong his aura is.

Or, perhaps it's due to how he nearly referred to you as his wife during his primal outburst of anger.

He turns away. Automatically creating yet another blockade between the two of you.

"You're dismissed."

[solalunar-eclipse]

Scars You Can’t See - Chapter 13

Chapter title: Finale

Word count: about 4200 words

Author’s Note: Thank you so much to everyone who’s read this fic. From the ones who were here at the beginning to the ones who joined in along the way, and even to the ones who are just reading this for the first time now: thank you! I really appreciate your support and willingness to read all about this idea of mine. I hope you enjoy the final chapter!

Warnings for nightmares and vague descriptions of violence, just in case.

First  | Previous 

...

In the end, another week or so was needed to finally get everything sorted out with G.U.N.- seven days which began to feel less and less stressful and more like an extended sleepover as time flew by. Eventually, though, the organization was shut down and most of their contacts closed off, leaving the country as safe as it could ever be for Teams Dark and Sonic to return.

Even as the former team began to move back into Club Rouge, setting up what little personal artifacts they had left (the suitcase they’d had was being shipped back to them from the motel in Central City where they’d left it), the club itself remained dark and empty, the three residents living above it still too wary to feel ready to reopen. Rouge, Shadow, and Omega spent about four days just living off their considerable savings and watching TV, attempting to get used to a somewhat normal life again after so long without it. 

Rouge got to enjoy those late mornings she’d been hoping for, Omega was able to do his favorite activities without taking responsibility for the team anymore, and Shadow…

...there were good times and bad times, with him.

He would often find himself utterly at peace in some moments, cooking a meal after insisting that Rouge couldn’t eat takeout all the time as his two best friends shouted wildly at their newest favorite show, and he couldn’t help but smile at all the cheerfulness that surrounded him. But at the same time, he woke up screaming nearly every night, unable to stop seeing Rouge and Omega dragged off to an unknown fate by G.U.N., or worse, seeing them lifeless and sprawled on the floor, unable to do anything to save them at all….

Both his friends would always come into his room (they’d actually started sleeping in there now to help him better) and hold him until the panic dissipated, assuring him that they were alright and that there was nothing to be afraid of anymore.

This, however, wasn’t entirely true just yet.

One night, a would-be attacker (one of the last remnants of G.U.N.’s influence guiding them, most likely) picked the lock on the door and entered the club, sneaking across the ground floor. Rouge heard them first with her hyper-sensitive ears, whispering the situation quickly to Shadow. Suddenly, before she could stop him, he darted silently to the door, prepared to fight if necessary. The bat could defend herself just fine, of course, but he was still very much on edge.

It turned out that he didn’t need to worry, though, because as the intruder began to creep up the two flights of stairs, they glanced to their left on the darkened first floor. And spotted an absolutely terrifying pair of glowing red eyes staring at them from the darkness.

That alone would have been enough to make them scream and leave rapidly (they weren’t by any means as trained as some of G.U.N.’s other contacts) but Omega saw fit to point two charging laser cannons at them, too, and quite honestly even Sonic would’ve been surprised at the speed with which that intruder ran.

After that, Rouge decided that she’d had enough relaxing for a while and that she needed some structure in her life, so she opened up the club again and started it working (albeit on a limited basis, she wasn’t quite prepared for a full schedule yet). The well-known hotspot had been sorely missed, as evidenced by the large number of customers- and tips. The bat was delighted to see some of her favorite regulars again, and they were more than happy to accept the shortened hours just so long as it stayed open.

Eventually, though, as it became clear that the bat was fully prepared to just sweep the stress of this adventure under the rug and go back to daily life as it was before, she ended up subjected to quite a few discussions from Omega, Knuckles and even Sonic about her...habits. They were all too aware of how much strain she’d been under during their time on the run, not to mention all of the verbal attacks and physical stress she’d had to deal with beforehand. At first, she managed to brush it off, insisting that she was perfectly fine and that this sort of thing wasn’t necessary at all.

Omega had cornered her one day in her room though, with only a single sentence to say: “Think about the example you’re setting for Shadow.”

Rouge’s ears drooped slightly in guilt as she realized just how much a) Shadow based some of his behaviors off of her and b) how vehemently he had opposed the idea of therapy when it was first mentioned. 

She sighed quietly. “Just one. For Shadow. And nothing’s going to come of it, you hear me?”

Two days later, she walked into the office calmly, her cool business face on and her skepticism high. The therapist she met with was young, friendly, and quite earnest and eager to help her in any way they could. As they listened to the story of her life, though, their face twisted in concern. “I understand you enjoy your job and the risks that come with it...but all those awful things people have said to you- that’s terrible!”

Rouge shrugged her shoulders. “It’s part of the job, y’know? Just have to grin and bear it.”

They looked down at their desk quietly. “How long have you been ‘grinning and bearing it’ for, exactly?”

“....a while.”

Rouge left the office after a little more talking with a distinct feeling of unease in her chest. She drove home quietly, with none of the usual music or radio that she liked on. The bat remained absolutely silent as she entered the house, too, which was the first major sign to both of her friends that something was wrong.

Shadow and Omega appeared at her side quickly, asking her what had happened and what was wrong (with quite a few threats of violence to the person who had upset her) which unfortunately had the opposite effect to what they were hoping for and instead just made her eyes start to water a little.

“Rouge, what’s going on?” Shadow asked, worried, as he pulled her over to the couch. 

She managed to calm herself relatively quickly, and eventually found the words to explain how  the biting words she heard every day cut deeper than she let on. How she took on mountains of emotional stress because she was the leader, and the oldest, and it was her responsibility. 

The bat quickly tried to add that neither of them needed to worry about this, it was fine, that she was still the oldest and she’d accepted that responsibility and she could work out the stress on her own. As Omega began to insist on providing various objections to every last one of those arguments, Shadow vanished, only to return within a couple of minutes with a bag of mystery supplies.

“Today’s your off day, right?” he asked, with a determined look in his eyes.

“Yes, hon.” she said quietly. “I should probably go do the shopping at some point-”

“After therapy? No way.” Omega declared, putting a hand on her head and pushing her back down onto the couch after she’d started to get up. 

“I’ll go shopping tomorrow.” Shadow said calmly. “I remember you haven’t been to the spa in a long time, and even if we can’t make you an appointment this late, we can still do something else.”

Omega pulled a packaged ‘hydrating and exfoliating face mask’ from the bag, holding it by the corner and looking as confused as he could possibly get. “I have no idea what this does, but if you like it then that’s fine, I suppose.” he said, handing it back to Shadow gingerly.

“Aww, guys, you don’t have to-” she insisted, disliking the idea of them having to do any work regarding her own emotional burdens.

“Yes we do.” they said in sync. 

“And this needs to be at least a biweekly occurrence, too.” Omega declared.

“A Rouge day?” Shadow asked. “I agree.”

The bat protested weakly, but allowed herself to be dragged upstairs, and various soaps with relaxing scents to be placed in her hands. “And here’s a bath bomb. Or, uh, three.” The hybrid looked sheepish. “I don’t know which kind you like.”

“And do not come out until you are sufficiently relaxed.” Omega ordered her, before pushing her into the bathroom gently.

Rouge gave a quiet yet fond sigh as she looked down at the various self-care items in her hands. Those two could really be stubborn sometimes, whether about fighting or friendship.

Quickly, she swung open the door and gave them both a hug, then vanished back inside the bathroom before either could react.

The rest of the day was spent taking care of Rouge, whether it was Shadow painting her nails or Omega agreeing to watch her favorite show that night (even if he couldn’t seem to understand why people in drama shows didn’t just do what they wanted instead of agonizing about it so much). That definitely wasn’t the end of it, though.

Eventually, she managed to go back for a few more sessions just to straighten things out and figure out how to care for herself better in the long run. It didn’t hurt, either, that anytime Shadow or Omega caught someone insulting her (and her ignoring it), whether it be for her looks or her interest in a store’s jewelry, they would verbally tear into the person with such fury that Rouge was nearly embarrassed…

...but not quite. It felt good to be looked out for, she had to admit, and they were showing how much they cared about her in their own way.

It turned out that Shadow was showing it in another way, too, albeit one she didn’t notice at first. One day, as she checked through her finances, the bat realized that her bank account had begun to grow too quickly to be normal. When she checked through her balance, she discovered that someone was adding mystery payments every Friday.

Rouge found out why one afternoon when she came back from shopping early to discover Shadow standing in the living room, pulling off some sort of light green shirt and draping it over the back of a chair as he moved to the kitchen (probably for some coffee beans).

“Something you need to tell me, hon?” she asked, and was only slightly surprised when he yelled in shock, hands crackling with Chaos energy before he realized it was her. 

“Ugh...Rouge, don’t scare me like that…” he sighed.

“You didn’t answer my question, Shadow.” she shot back.

He shuffled around nervously, seeming unwilling to provide her with a straight answer. Once he realized that there was no getting out of this, though, her sensitive ears picked up the sound of the hybrid gulping briefly before taking a deep breath. “I...I’ve been working part-time arranging flowers.” he said, rushing the words out as though that would keep her from understanding them.

“Honey, you know you don’t have to do that- we still have enough money to handle the club’s current hours for a while longer…” she began, worrying that he was pushing himself too hard.

Shadow folded his arms. “Keeping us afloat isn’t all up to you, remember? And I actually enjoy it- it’s kind of calming.” he said, almost defiantly.

“If you insist.” she replied. “But make sure not to mess up your schedule, you know you need to make sure you’re getting your rest after everything.”

The hybrid rolled his eyes. “I’m the Ultimate Lifeform, I don’t need-”

“Wrong answer.” Omega said from the doorway, folding his arms and glowering at Shadow. Rouge had an expression to match, seeming pretty distressed by what he’d said.

“Shadow, hon, you keep using that title as an excuse not to take care of yourself, and that’s just as unhealthy as me ignoring people who try and bother me.” she said softly. “I...think you should really consider talking to the same person I did- it’s really helped, you know that.”

The hybrid sulked in the car on the way to the office a couple days later, but didn’t actively attempt to resist, so he probably knew that Rouge was right. He told his story to them in the most calm, nonchalant manner he could pull off, though his friends did take over the story occasionally when his voice trailed off.

By the end of it, the young mouse was frowning at their desk again. “Honestly, I’m...I’m speechless. The fact that so many people were willing to treat you so badly- it’s horrible. So...I’m really glad you’re here, and I’ll do my best to help you however I can.”

Shadow was a little touched by this amount of concern from what was essentially a stranger, though he remained resistant to their suggestions at first. However, a day or two later, he had yet another nightmare- and a bad one too. Ordinarily, he’d just ignore it and lie awake for hours trying to get back to sleep, but this time, he happened to recall what the therapist had said.

“It’s okay to ask for help, Shadow. You deserve it just as much as anyone else- no matter what some people may have said.”

He tried to avoid the thought, but his mind wouldn’t rest and he couldn’t even begin to relax. (Truthfully, he was too scared to, in case the nightmares came back.) Guiltily, he got up, shuffled over to Rouge’s room, and opened the door quietly. It took him a long moment to even work up the nerve to walk over to her bedside, but eventually he did. He shook her awake gently by the shoulder, unwilling to meet her eyes.

“Oh, Shadow….” was all she said, before pulling him gently under the blankets with her and holding him tight.

The hybrid felt so pathetic and childish, yet he still buried his face in the crook of her neck, letting out a quiet sniffle. He could smell a mixture of her perfume and shampoo, and it calmed him slowly, as did the feeling of her arms around him. Eventually, he managed to fall back asleep to the sound of her breathing, and spent the rest of the night in relative peace.

When Shadow woke up early in the morning and Omega was right beside the bed, one of his hands resting comfortingly on his side, he didn’t even question it. He just placed his hand right over one of the giant metal fingers before resting a while longer, a small smile on his face.

As the days continued and the two Mobians started taking care of themselves more- with lower stress levels and many more peaceful nights as a result- Shadow finally even worked up the nerve to spend some time with Omega at the firing range. 

They had made careful plans. There were noise-canceling earmuffs available for free upon entry, and Shadow wouldn’t even be in the same room as most of the weaponry. He had a katana sword and he knew where the practice dummies were, and that was enough.

They’d be able to see each other through a glass window and wave (and show off, of course). So while Shadow approached the building with a slight air of trepidation, he also felt rather excited to be able to work on his fighting skills once again, especially with his friend.

That is, until the attendant at the desk refused to give him the headset when he asked for it.

“You have to rent an item to get the free headphones,” the young woman said, looking bored and generally unsympathetic. “That’s the rule.”

“I don’t see anything saying that.” Shadow shot back, but inside he felt more nervous than anything. He couldn’t stay here if he didn’t get that equipment, but he’d really wanted to spend some time with Omega today…

The robot appeared behind him surprisingly quickly, wrenching aside the attendant’s computer to glower at her better. “I have seen others come in here and get headsets for free while bringing their own weapons, so you had better have a good explanation for why you refuse to give him one.”

“He’s got a sword,” she pointed out unhelpfully, “so he shouldn’t even need one. Headsets are only for people with projectile weapons, anyway.”

Omega’s fingers tightened on the counter until they made a noticeable scraping sound. The attendant winced and even the otherwise impassive Shadow’s ears twitched at the noise.

He lifted up his hand, revealing deep scratches in the stainless steel. “You should think about being fair and providing Shadow with a headset now. Before I become really irritated.”

“That’s- I shouldn’t have to make an exception, he isn’t going to be on the firing range!”

“He does and you should. My friend does not do well with the sound of gunfire, so he deserves to have one. Right. Now.” Omega insisted, glaring at her.

“Well, if he doesn’t like guns then he shouldn’t be here.” she said irritably. “I’m not giving him one. And that’s final.”

The robot turned away suddenly and stalked towards the door. “Then I refuse to spend one moment longer in this building. Congratulations on losing your establishment some money.”

Shadow followed his friend, feeling more than a little like he’d just experienced some sort of verbal whiplash. “Wait...what just happened?”

“I decided that this place is clearly not good enough to deserve our patronage. We can find somewhere else to spend our time.”

“But I thought this was the best place in the area- I don’t want to make you miss out…” Shadow said, feeling bad for his friend.

Omega put a heavy arm around Shadow’s shoulders. “Amenities mean nothing to me if the people there insist you suffer in the process.”

The hybrid leaned against his friend, grateful. “Thank you, Omega.”

(They did eventually find a new- if slightly less upscale- place to go, and Omega managed to hit fifteen bulls-eyes in a row before being informed that they didn’t quite have the money for prizes there. Shadow enjoyed being able to use his sword, and he got significantly more respect on the way out of the building as opposed to the general confusion and mild derision he’d received on the way in...particularly after he defeated one of the most respected patrons in five minutes flat.)

…

Nearly a month and a half after Team Dark left Angel Island, Sonic set up a little party with some friends to celebrate their general success, as well as their slow steps to getting better, day by day. The team had been pretty reclusive and slightly paranoid as of late, so this was their first proper social outing in a long while.

Once they got over to Sonic’s house, all three members of Team Dark were immediately greeted with a shriek of “GUYS!”, followed by the sudden appearance of one cheerful pink hedgehog. “Rouge, Omega, Shadow, hi! How are you guys? Do you need anything?” Amy Rose asked, managing to simultaneously be cheerful, sympathetic, and doting in a way only she ever could.

“We’re doing better all the time, hon. Thank you.” Rouge answered kindly, while Omega waved at her and Shadow offered up a quiet nod. 

Amy wasn’t deterred by the latter’s behavior- she’d spent enough time with him to know that they were pretty good friends and that he was probably just a little overwhelmed, so she gave him his space. Blaze greeted them all politely as they entered the living room as well from her seat on the couch, but was quickly overshadowed by the other spacetime traveler present for the party.

Silver dashed over to the group, looking them all up and down worriedly. Upon seeing that they were mostly unharmed, albeit tired, he focused his attention on his personal hero and occasional mentor on Chaos techniques (Shadow).

“Are- are you going to be okay?” he asked worriedly, hovering (both literally and figuratively) around the other hedgehog. “Silly question, sorry, I just, if you’re not okay then I’m here if you need-”

“Silver.” Shadow cut the psychic off, but in a gentle manner. “I think I’ll be alright. If I’m ever not, though, I’ll keep your offer in mind. Thank you.”

“Okay.” He sighed, his nervous energy dissipating. It was replaced by a smile almost instantly, though, as he added, “Okay! I’m just so glad you guys managed to stop G.U.N. and everything. And that you’re alright now!”

Shadow offered him a small smile. “So am I.”

Soon after, Omega hurried down to Tails’s workshop with a shout of “What have you been working on? I need to see everything right now” and Rouge busied herself with scaring the living daylights out of Knuckles by sneaking up on him from behind. Meanwhile, Sonic stepped into Silver and Shadow’s conversation, at ease with both of them and enjoying the party. “You got some food yet?” he asked the hybrid, smiling warmly at him.

“No…?” Shadow said cautiously.

“Oh, man! There’s so much, you’ve gotta try everything!” Sonic exclaimed, dragging Shadow into the kitchen with one hand while Silver did the same with the other.

Moments later, he found himself with a plate filled with every kind of food available in the kitchen, from french fries to mini-sandwiches to cupcakes. Shadow startled slightly upon realizing that everybody else seemed to have brought several nice foods, and all his team had thought to bring was a bottle or two of soda. “I apologize for our lack of food-” he began, feeling somehow as though he should have done better, but Sonic silenced him quickly.

“Dude, no way! We’re having this party for you guys anyway because of all the stressful work you went through!”

Silver chimed in quickly. “We didn’t ask you guys to bring food because we didn’t want you to worry- you’ve done more than enough work for a long time.”

Shadow, in response, quickly shoved a mini-sandwich into his mouth to keep himself from saying anything too emotional.

Later, as they all settled down to watch the pilot episode of an old but well-known TV show, the hybrid found himself squeezed in between Rouge on one side, still flirting with Knuckles (punctuated by the occasional check-in on Shadow) and Sonic on the other side, in a surprisingly intense argument with Blaze about whether or not this show, Nebula Expedition: The Following Age, was better than the original.

Omega, meanwhile, was trying his best not to utterly crush the beanbag chair on the floor he’d been given after the couch had nearly tipped over the moment he sat down. Tails was leaned against him, while Amy, Blaze and Silver shared the other sofa.

Suddenly, Sonic turned to him, his expression intense and serious. “Shadow. This is the most important question you’re gonna answer all week. Which show is better: The Following Age or the original?”

The hybrid shook his head, a smile appearing on his face despite his best attempts to ignore it. It was crazy to think that he’d gone from the most important question of the week being “Am I going to be captured by G.U.N. and imprisoned?” to “Which show is better?”, and he couldn’t help but allow a laugh to escape him. It was just a quick little snicker, but it was enough for Sonic’s eyes to widen and for him to grin. 

“What’s that all about?” he asked, half joking and half serious, leaning his shoulder on Shadow’s. “You think this question’s a joke? Your answer’s really important here, y’know!”

“Well, for your information…” the hybrid began.

Sonic leaned in a little closer. “Yeah?”

“I like Asteroid Battle the best. Only the originals, though.”

The hero gave a cry of dismay and flopped back against the couch, throwing his hands up in the air. “Asteroid Battle? Asteroid Battle?? That wasn’t even an option!” he cried. “It’s not even in the same franchise, for Chaos’ sake!”

“Too bad.” Shadow replied smugly, folding his arms and still smiling. “Because that’s the one I like best.”

Sonic smacked him on the arm and heaved a dramatic sigh. “Well, too bad to both you and Blaze, because it’s my TV and I get to pick the show.”

Shadow wasn’t the least bit bothered about that as he settled in to watch, surrounded by his friends and safe as he could be. This atmosphere- of cheer and kindness and laughter- this was what he’d wanted to be able to enjoy all along.

He wasn’t entirely there yet- and maybe he would never be able to know the freedom that came when people didn’t carry the memories he did. But in the end, he couldn’t say that he regretted that burden too greatly. Even through all the bad, he had enough good in this world that it was all worth the struggle in the end, if he got to be here, now, in this place with the people he cared for most.

Shadow met Rouge’s eyes briefly, and then Omega’s, hoping that the words he couldn’t say right now would be understood.

Thank you both so much. For being there for me, through the good times and the bad. For being happy with me and sad with me. For standing by me when I decided to take on the largest military organization in the world, and afterwards as well. Just...thank you.

For everything.

[barbecuebabybackribs]

 Being In a Poly relationship with Sam Uley, Paul Lahote, and Jacob Black would include: (Male! Cullen! Imprint! Reader)

Requested: Yes

(Your all in a relationship)

Everyone Knew they were in a relationship

They got a lot of strange looks and backhanded comments

But they were able to get through it together- luckily not many people had the guts to say it in front of there faces considering they were all tall buff men

It did get to them slightly, and it took them a long time to be public with there relationship but eventually the hiding got to them and they came out

The pack already knew of course, it would be hard to hide the longing looks they gave to each other normally, but since they can hear each others thoughts? They were outed very quickly

Embry and Jared nearly choke when they first hear a passing thought go through Jacob’s mind about an intimate moment they had shared- and everything quickly unraveled from there

You are the youngest of the Cullen children, mainly because you are human.

You had a rough childhood and were taken away for your family at a very young age

One day you had gotten hurt by and equally poor foster family

Carlisle was your doctor, he instantly noticed the signs of abuse and also realized just how wonderful of a kid you were

He followed procedure and reported the incident to CPS

You were taken away but then you were without a family once again, Carlisle tried not to think about you, knowing there were plenty of poor children in situations like yours and his home wouldn’t be safe for a human child

But when you come back in, this time with a broken arm, he discusses it with the family.

Him and Esme start the process of adoption and cross there fingers.

They’re accepted.

You’re only four so they panic and buy everything they can think of to childproof there house, and set up a room for you- which Alice and Rosalie take care of

You don’t trust them at first, your past foster families had been abusive and even though you were young you still associated the process with being hurt

Jasper keeps his distance from you but uses his powers to ease your stress

When you first go there your three favorite people are Esme, Rosalie, and Carlisle

You love Esme because she makes you your favorite foods and she reads you bed time stories every night- she also was the first person other then Carlisle you met

You love Carlisle because he was the first person who was nice to you in a long time, he was always nice to you and was the first real father figure you had, so of course you want to talk to him for two hours about cartoons and the cool bug you saw outside- although he’s a sucker for your ramblings

You loved Rosalie because she loved you, she babied you, played with you, dances with you, watches cartoons with you every Sunday morning while your still half asleep.

You soon warm up to the others though and over the years your close with them all

When they first told you about vampires they only confirmed a suspicion you had already had

“Wait, so I was right?”

“Yeah a bit...” Edward piped up awkwardly from the corner having forgotten to tell them about your theory on why they were all the same age as when you had met, never ate with you, and never slept

Your still all close, even closer in fact now that they don’t need to hide everything from you

So when they ask you to deliver a message to the wolf pack- who you had never met but were familiar with- you complied

Happily pulling up you grasped the note tightly- technically you knew what to say, just tell them when the training would take place- but that didn’t mean you weren’t nervous about forgetting

With three snaps of your wrist you knocked on the door, eyes low as you tried to keep your nerves at bay- just drop the note off, then leave. It’ll be simple

The door swung open and a stern looking woman opened the door

“Hello?”

“Uh hi, I’m supposed to drop this letter off with Sam Uley.”

“Ah so you’re the Leeches human.”

“Uhm- and you’re Leah the Female wolf?”

She mumbled a yeah and motioned for me to come inside, when you walk in you instantly recognize the wolf pack- mainly because of there tattoos but the fact that they were all shirtless was a large hint.

“Which one of you is Sam?” You asked looking at the four men sat at the table eating a variety of foods displayed on the table.

Two of the men- one you had recognized from Bella’s description as being Jacob black- stopped mid bite and stared at you, which made you shift nervously

little did you know Jacob and Paul were currently in the midst of there entire world shifting below there feet, and suddenly it wasn’t just there partners who mattered above all else, you were at the center of it all.

Right when you were contemplating turning around and leaving before you had the option to give them the letter, or to find out why they were staring at you so intensely, like they were a second away from jumping over the table and tackling you- someone cleared there throat from next to you

You nearly jumped out of your skin and quickly turned to look at the man who had scared you

He was tall, had a stern yet handsome face- and gave off an incredibly intimidating aura

His tightly knit brows instantly relaxed as we made eye contact- which made you think you might have something on your face considering everyone is staring at you

“Are you... Sam?” You asked, trying to put on your best smile despite the feeling of three men staring into your soul causing your skin to crawl

“Yes, and you are?” He spoke, gentler then you were expecting but his voice still carried a powerful undertone

“Y/N, Carlisle sent me to give you the detail on your whole training session.”

He paused for a moment, taking the letter from your hand and glancing at the others

“Your the Cullen’s human?” He asked but it came out more as a statement

“I prefer Y/N, but yes- I’m the Cullen token human.” You tried to lighten the suddenly serious moment, but when you were met with more confused stares and strangely longing gazes you let out a nervous laugh, “You know... I’m just gonna go...” You said sounding slightly more nervous intended

There was a few more moments of silent and Sam, Jacob, and mystery pack member shared a knowing but slightly panic looked.

“Hey, Why don’t you stay for lunch- since you’re already here and everything.” Jacob smiled from his seat at the table- repeatedly hitting the shoulder of another boy until he moved and then motioning at the free seat.

“Oh... I shouldn’t, I mean I’d hate to impose.” You waved your hand slightly, a small smile on your face. They seemed nice but the thought of being glared at for any longer made you want to die on the spot.

“Ah come on, we’d love to get to know the infamous vampire boy.”

You let out a slight sigh before admitting defeat- not wanting to seem rude at this point. “I guess I can stay for a bit- If you stop calling me Vampire boy.... or ‘the leech human’.” 

“Deal.” Mystery boy said before motioning his head to the now-free chair, “Now sit.”

You end up sitting down and are able to enjoy yourself, most of the pack other then Jacob, Paul, and Sam don’t talk to you to terribly much, other then introducing themselves.

“Oh, by the way, what’s your name again?”

“It’s Paul.” He practically beamed at your slight attention- you didn’t know it but the three men were all suddenly very desperate to get to know you and have your attention. Hence why they didn’t want you to leave.

Time flew by quicker then any of you would have liked, they all hung onto your every word as you talked, and you found yourself doing the same when they talked.

The rest of the pack quickly caught on and were either fighting back a laugh the entire time or dreading the drama that would likely ensue from not one, not two, but three werewolf’s imprinting on the human Cullen.

Speaking of which, none of the Cullen’s know until the training scene.

The whole day is put on pause for a few minutes as Edward quickly is able to read the thoughts of the pack and tells the others.

Your standing near Bella- confused on what exactly an imprint is but not asking because you had a suspicion it wasn’t good.

Carlisle and Esme are fairly calm, this wasn’t the kind of thing you could control and they were happy you would have three werewolf’s looking out for you- since they were known for being protective of there imprints

Jasper, Edward, and Emmett, had no idea how to feel.

The one time Jasper is stumped with emotions, he knows imprints are usually happiest with their imprinter- or imprinters. But how could he know you’d be safe with them? Alice wouldn’t be able to see if something was going to go wrong so anything could happen

Emmett was slightly confused but he guessed he was happy for you? But also upset that the mutts imprinted on his human

Edward was, just, couldn’t, wrap, his, head, around, it.

Rosalie and Alice were fuming

You were Rosalie’s kid, if they thought for one second they could have you they’d have to get through her

Alice did not like the mutts, especially when they were imprinted on her favorite human- her usually happy demeanor shifted and she held herself back but jasper was gently holding her hand to try and keep her calm

Rosalie however went off

“What do you mean they all imprinted on him! As if dealing with one of them wouldn’t be enough!” She hissed, grabbing your arm and pulling you behind her- which caused the three wolves to snap and growl slightly

“Uh- It’s okay Rose?” You tried to ignore your confusion and comfort her slightly

“No- It’s not Y/N!”

Everyone was very tense for the rest of the training session, you were mainly searching through your memories trying to remember what imprints were- when you did remember you let out a small “oh”

Although you didn’t know the relationship would move past being close friends

Which is exactly what you were for awhile.

Carlisle was able to convince Rosalie to let you go see the pack, not wanting to start a dispute by withholding you

She still gave you a pocket knife and a long rant on how if they try anything or you get slightly uncomfortable to leave immediately- and to listen to you instincts.

But your instincts tell you to completely trust the pack.

The first few meetings the four of you have after the training session were awkward at first but you quickly warmed up to them

You spend a lot of time on the beach and especially just hanging around Sam’s house

You four can just talk for hours enjoying eachothers company

Jacob likes to spend private time with you at the beach, he likes watching you collect seashells- you may have grown up in the area but you were never allowed to go to the beach so you’ve got almost a child-like excitement when you’re there.

Paul likes to take you places, any place you want to go- you got it- he likes seeing new movies with you, especially action films but you’ve dragged him to a few cheesy werewolf movies specifically so you could crack up at them and whisper in your ear, ‘So do you do that?’

Sam likes to have more chill time with you, he takes the brunt of patrolling and just being able to rest, and hang out with you knowing your safe is enough. Not that it’s boring though, he still finds different ways to fill the time but it’s much more relaxing things- one time you made him paint and he refused to show you his piece for days because it was ‘so bad’, you assured him it wasn’t although inside you both knew it was. When he tried to throw it away you stole it out of the trash and brought it home

When you all hang out your in for a fun day, your usually doing something specific because keeping four people entertained can be a hassle if your just hanging out- not that you don’t just hang out but things run more smoothly when your doing something

If they had a particularly long day patrolling you’ll let them just relax- always offering to leave if they need alone time since you do know they might just went to spend time with their partners, but they always insist you stay

They usually lay on the couch and you’ll make them dinner since they do have huge appetites, and Esme did give you cooking lessons so you know your way around the kitchen

Plus it’s nice to cook for someone else other then yourself

Jacob and Paul are always pumped when you cook for them- Sam always reminds you that you don’t need to cook for them, but is secretly just as excited because your an extremely good cook

Speaking of being a good cook- that’s something the entire pack appreciates your skill because you always conveniently make just enough for them as well- totally a coincidence if anyone asks you

Leah starts to warm up to you- she still doesn’t like being around Sam but she realizes your not a bad guy and she enjoys being able to be around you and only you so she can escape the other pack members thoughts but also have company

The rest of the pack loves you- partially because you make them food but also they think your fun to be around- although your rarely alone with anyone other then your three imprintee’s

None of you know when exactly you start having non-platonic feeling for each other

I mean Jasper does, which means Edward knows, and of course they had to tell Alice and Bella, so they all know way before you realize.

None of them are particularly bothered by you being gay, Jasper and Edward have known since you’d get crushes on the male cartoon characters on your shows, Alice didn’t mind you fell in love with a man-men- she just was hesitant about the men you fell for. And Bella always had a sneaking suspicion so it merely confirmed a suspicion she had- although it did go against her religious beliefs, so did being a vampire and she was able to accept that so you liking men? No big deal

Jacob is the first to realize of the three shifters- and since he is the first one to know he panics at the thought of the others not also liking you in the same way

However there is a Domino effect and almost within 24 hours they all realize they all feel the same way- but do you?

“The Cullen’s are going to kill us- not only imprinting on there son but this?”

Them slowly testing the waters to see how you feel is how you realize you like like them

Paul wrapped an arm around you when you shivered in the cold air, he couldn’t fight back the smug smile that painted his features when you leaned further into him

Sam mainly observes your behavior, not wanting to push you so he tries to read into all you slight movements.

Jacob mainly makes jokes under the same style ‘what if we all went on a date together... haha jk jk... unless?’

After five of those kinds of jokes you get suspicious- those paired with Jacob suddenly wanting to spend a lot more time with you and getting you small gifts- along with Sam becoming a lot more touchy feely and also giving you small gifts- you were suspicious the feeling were mutual.

All of you danced around your feeling.

Until you overheard a conversation.

“Jake, we have to take our time, we don’t want to push him.”

“Sam! We’ve been waiting for weeks, we should just tell him, lay all our cards out on the table.”

“Oh yeah, Jake just three shifters cornering you and saying ‘hey you know how we said imprints are sometimes completely platonic? Well this is not one of those times’.”

They had not realized you were standing on the front porch right next to the very open window

Your plan was simple- just back away and stay near your car for five minutes then come back and pretend you didn’t hear anything- simple right?

Not quite since you didn’t hear Jared walking up behind you- and of course he was very loud with his greeting

After a few moments you see Jacobs head stick out the window looking a tad panicked- “Oh Y/N I had no idea you were here!”

“Uh yeah... just got here an bumped into Jared.”

Jared only needed to pick something up and then he was gone and you were left alone with three men who were wondering if you had heard them.

An awkward silence was in the air before Sam finally sighed and asked “Did you here what we were talking about?”

Your face gave an answer before you could speak, but you tried none-the-less “psshhh.... nah I didn’t hear a single thing...”

“That’s obviously a lie.”

Jacob is happy you know and can make a decision if you’d like to stay merely friends or possibly become more, Paul is panicked your going to be completely put off by them all falling for you- they didn’t even know if you were gay so this could actually make you run back to the Cullen’s and never come back, and Sam is a mix of both- he doesn’t think you’ll run but he is worried if you don’t share there feeling your relationship will never be the same, although he was eager to hear what you have to say

“So... you all want... to date me?” You held your breath awaiting an answer.

“Basically..”

You let out a small ‘oh’ as a smile fights it’s way onto your features

They don’t know if your happy or if you’re making fun of them

Sam doesn’t beat around the bush and asks if you have feelings for them in a purely platonic sense, or not.

You lightly punch his shoulder and joke lightly “Not”

“What?”

“Not.” You said again,

“Y/N What the ever living fu-- OH YOU MEAN YOUR FEELINGS AREN’T PLATONIC!” Paul blurts out in confusion and then excitement

You just smile slightly and nod at him, having to many butterflies in your stomach to talk.

The day goes absolutely wonderfully after that- you were planning on just watching The AmittyVille Horror and having dinner, and that’s what you did

But even though none of them had officially asked you out, you all just unanimously agreed you were theirs now and they were yours

For the first time Sam wasn’t the only one helping you with dinner

You had to give Paul and Jacob easier jobs as they were absolutely terrible in the kitchen, Paul was in charge rubbing the seasoning-that same had mixed- on the meat and he was in charge of the playlist so you all had music to listen to- Jake was in charge of chopping, which he was slow and sloppy at but he did his best

You and Sam had already cooked many meals together so you moved smoothly through the kitchen preparing the rest of the food

You all ate together and then watched the movie, none of you were to particularly scared however you all enjoyed the movie

You went home that night very happy and Edward stopped you before you even got through the door

He unintentionally outed you- before you were ready. He hold’s the guilt of that for years- even after you forgive him.

No one really says much, Esme and Carlisle say they’re happy for you and then let you awkwardly walk right back out of the house

Carlisle is technically extremely religious but he knows that god loves all his creations and he knows the bible has been through many different phases, so he know’s it is not a literal guide book- he knows who you are and he loves you regardless

Esme has already known since you were a kid and you told her you secretly has a crush on a guy in your class- when you were in kindergarten- which you completely forgot but she’s always known and always loved you.

Rosalie is fuming- not because your gay, I mean she at one point questioned her own sexuality and she really doesn’t care what sexuality you are, but she does care that the MUTTS THINK THEY HAVE ANY CLAIM TO HER SON

they’ve already been stealing you every other day, but now? what if you move in with them, what if you start seeing them everyday, where will she be in your life? She’s mad and insecure, you end up telling her she’ll always be the best mom and that it doesn’t matter who your with, you’ll never leave her

Emmett is just flabbergasted, you get imprinted on by three wolves, you fall for all of them, they’re all men, they all fall for you. It’s a lot, he still loves you, but it’s a lot

You go right back to Sam’s house- you take a slight detour, you weren’t ready to come out to them so you need a minute

You knock and Sam’s door and only have to wait a second before it swings open- he heard you coming

“What happened?” He said when he saw your face- which you hadn’t realized must’ve looked upset

You just sighed and mumbled “I love them but sometimes living with vampires sucks ass.”

He chuckled lightly and pulled you inside, you didn’t see his eye twitch in agitation that the cullens upset you “You want to talk about it?”

“Not even slightly.”

“Well then, what would you like to do.”

You shrugged and plopped yourself on his couch “If you were doing something I can just chill here.”

“I was only going to clean and go to bed- I’d much rather spend time with you.”

He said plopping down on the couch with you, you ended up talking random things including the scary stories you believed in when you were small and debating what kind of pasta was the best

After awhile you both got pretty tired and you said you should probably go, with a sigh

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to- I mean I’ll sleep on the couch and you can take the bed if you’d like.”

You ended up agreeing with him but insisting you sleep on the couch- threatening to leave if he sleeps on it since he has patrols the next day

You two stay up a tad longer then he let’s you get some rest

It takes you awhile to fall asleep since you’ve never really stayed here over night

In the morning he’s in a bit of a rush but you spend a few mintutes together and then he’s out the door

When you go home all the cullens are hella worried

Takes you an hour to calm them down and convince them your alright you were just to tired to drive

They’re not exactly thrilled but they let it slide- just this once

It takes them awhile to get used to your relationship but once they see your happy and safe they accept it

Jacob drives you around on his bike a lot- sometimes if you need a lift but also just to be with you

Paul is the one most likely to tackle you- it’s actually how you have your first kiss- which is kinda romantic but he also scared the hell out of you

If you want to be technical your first kiss with Sam was a cheek kiss, which he did in the middle of making lunch which through you off

But your first lip kiss was almost just as random but a bit more romantic, he walked you to your car after you all had gone on a date and the others hanged back- he told them to in there minds but you didn’t know that- and kissed you before you got in your car

Jacob was a bit jealous he was the last to the party but he makes up for it in being really cute

Not-so-stealthy wraps a warm arm around you and pulls you close, your sitting on the cool beach so you cuddle into his warm chest, he calls your name quietly so you look up to him and  then he goes to kiss you- but his nose smashes into yours

He immediately apologizes while you die of laughter, unclinging from him and practically rolling in the sand

Defeated he grumpily crosses his arms and refuses to look at you

“Hey Jake~” You call, and now he’s the one turning to you and you steal a kiss

After that you instantly cuddle back up into his warm chest despite the fact your insane blush heated you up

They are always affectionate to each-other and if you think you escaped that- think again,

At least one of them is always touching you in some way- Jake loves to hold you hand, Paul likes to have a hand on your thigh/lower back- and Sam likes to wrap his arm around your shoulders

Sam is a big sucker for face kisses 

Paul looooves when you play with his hair but refuses to admit it

Jacob likes to just casually carry your around on his back/in his arms

It takes a good long while for all of you to get intimate

You mess around one on one with each other but it’s intimidating for three Tall Hunky werewolves to just take you

But they do regardless as long as you’re okay with it- Edward and Jasper are very uncomfortable with the new intimacy in your relationship

Whenever there is a supernatural threat you spend 95% of your time with them- the other 5% with the cullens

They will not let you out of you sights, you almost think your getting heatstroke at night when you’re surrounded by three bodies- two of which have arms around you- radiating heat

speaking of which in the winter you still don’t need blankets because they’re all more the willing to be your blanket

One time Paul lost control and shifted near you and your tackled by jacob so you don’t get hurt

Paul spends a weak apologizing

He always hates his temper but it’s been a lot better since you came along

They all become better people with you around- but not because you force them to be, because they want to be with you around

They love you wholeheartedly and that’s all that truly matters

You guys live a long happy life together and no one will ever tear you apart

Word count: 4,571

(sighs in having 20 drafts but ADHD brain won’t let you finish any, also I hope you like it ^^ @shamelessloverhairdopainter sorry I haven’t completed any of your other requests yet but trust me I’m trying to write every free chance I get, everyone have a good day and stay safe y’all)

[shinobirain24]

Jaune for Battle of Remnant stuff?

RWBY Battle of Remnant: Jaune Arc Dialogues

Vs Ruby Rose

1) Ruby: Remember when we first met in Beacon?

Jaune: Yeah, there's like a lot of explosions when you sneeze at dust.

Ruby: Can we not bring that up?

2) Jaune: You remember my nephew, right?

Ruby: Adrian? Yeah, how is he?

Jaune: He has grown up into a great huntsman.

3) Ruby: Cinder is too dangerous to be let go.

Jaune: We can make her pay for everything.

Ruby: Together, she won't stand a chance.

4) Ruby: Anything about the mysterious world we traveled?

Jaune: One with a guy dressed in black and a woman in white with swords, and monsters being pixelated?

Ruby: Guess we were not dreaming after all.

5) Ruby: I'm sorry I couldn't save Pyrrha

Jaune: Cinder planned this, not you.

Ruby: Still, let me help you train.

Vs Weiss Schnee

1) Weiss: There are still a few sessions to be learned from, Jaune.

Jaune: I've improved so far, Weiss.

Weiss: In that case, let us see what you have.

2) Jaune: Remember when I asked you out.

Weiss: I turned you down for you to notice Pyrrha

Jaune: I regretted not seeing this sooner.

3) Weiss: What happened to Pyrrha wasn't your fault, Jaune.

Jaune: I hated myself for it looking back.

Weiss: In that case, do what you have to do to honor her.

Vs Blake Belladonna

1) Jaune: So you became High Leader of the White Fang?

Blake: Someone has to step into Sienna's place.

Jaune: That was seriously cool.

2) Jaune: So your dad was High Leader?

Blake: He left for good reason.

Jaune: At least he made the right choice to leave it to you.

3) Blake: Has Cardin been picking on you again?

Jaune: We parted ways on good terms.

Blake: It better be.

4) Jaune: You and Adam?

Blake: I have regrets meeting him.

Jaune: Well you were right to head to Beacon.

5) Blake: You're a fourth generation, right?

Jaune: Fifth, actually. My great-great grandfather fought in the Great War.

Blake: That's some info.

Vs Yang Xiao Long

1) Yang: You know, something messed up?

Jaune: What, Yang?

Yang: You ignoring Pyrrha's feelings.

2) Yang: You know, my parents met at Beacon.

Jaune: Forgot your mom is a bandit tribe leader.

Yang: She's dead to me long ago.

3) Jaune: Just looking at you reminds me of one of my sisters.

Yang: Really? Which one?

Jaune: Sapphron, I think.

Vs Lie Ren

1) Jaune: How did you learn how to fight and hunt?

Ren: Nora and I learned some techniques from our master.

Jaune: You had a master?

2) Ren: You can't win this, Jaune.

Jaune: Cinder has to pay and you know it, Ren.

Ren: It won't bring Pyrrha back.

3) Ren: My father taught me that taking action takes time also.

Jaune: I thought it means to make haste.

Ren: There is a difference.

4) Jaune: Getting all huggy with Nora, huh?

Ren: I don't know what you mean.

Jaune: Ren, you know you can't hide that.

Vs Nora Valkyrie

1) Nora: What up, fearless leader?!

Jaune: Don't hold back, let's practice.

Nora: Whatever you say!

2) Jaune: If I win, you have to taste my pancakes.

Nora: But I like Ren's better.

Jaune: Trust me, it's my sister's recipe.

3) Jaune: You remember my nephew, yes?

Nora: Yep, he was such a cute baby.

Jaune: Wait until he turned 17.

Vs Mercury Black

1) Jaune: The sight of you sickens me.

Mercury: Please, I always scare people.

Jaune: No today you're not.

2) Mercury: Jauney.

Jaune: Only Cardin gets to call me that and live.

Mercury: The guys' a bigger idiot than you.

3) Mercury: You and Pyrrha really have a death wish.

Jaune: Don't you ever say her name.

Mercury: Your loss, Blondie.

Vs Cinder Fall

1) Jaune: Cinder.

Cinder: The failing coward shows his face.

Jaune: I'm not that guy anymore.

2) Jaune: You'll pay for what happened to Pyrrha.

Cinder: You have a death wish.

Jaune: More like you do.

3) Cinder: I kill little boys like you.

Jaune: This one won't be next on your list.

Cinder: This is the end of your bloodline!

Vs Sun Wukong

1) Sun: Did Cinder became Salem's vessel?

Jaune: Yep, clearly Cinder hasn't read the final print.

Sun: Haha! Good one, Jaune.

2) Sun: How many ancestors fight in the wars?

Jaune: Four generations.

Sun: Cool!

3) Jaune: How come you never joined the White Fang?

Sun: From what I heard, they killed their own men.

Jaune: Yikes.

Vs Neptune Vasilias

1) Jaune: I didn't know you have a brother.

Neptune: Salem turned him against me.

Jaune: How many more turned on us?

2) Jaune: Heard your mom is a lawyer.

Neptune: Whatever you need, her files are open.

Jaune: Think you have one of Mercury?

3) Neptune: The ladies seemed to be out for ya.

Jaune: Jealous, Neptune?

Neptune: I'm surprised you changed a lot.

Vs Jupiter Vasilias

1) Jaune: Hold up, you're Neptune's brother?!

Jupiter: So you met my little bro?

Jaune: Thought the blue hair is hair dyed.

2) Jupiter: Your bloodline descends from warriors.

Jaune: I heard one of your ancestors killed my great-great grandfather, Mirak.

Jupiter: That's a first.

3) Jupiter: I know what is like to lose a loved one.

Jaune: Says the guy who helped Cinder destroyed Beacon.

Jupiter: Join the Black Vipers and you will take your vengeance.

4) Jaune: You betrayed your family.

Jupiter: Family always hold me back.

Jaune: That was your own fault, Jupiter.

[cotncandyboifics]

The Bidding of the Prince Twins: Chapter 1

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 2 ~

Pairings: (vague/qpr) Loceit, eventual Analoceit

Word count: 2,977

Story summary: Virgil finds himself being held hostage in an unknown location. His two suspected captors seem to care for him more than any strangers should, especially strangers who kidnapped him. But were they really the ones who kidnapped him? That aside, Virgil also can't shake the feeling that there's something familiar about them. He just can't pin-point what it is. As time passes, the layers of lies the three of them are caught in are gradually peeled away, one by one.

General CW: U!Roman, U!Remus, food, kidnapping, implied Stockholm Syndrome, moderate to severe amnesia, swearing, sexual innuendos, graphic descriptions of gore/violence/scarring, minor character d-aths, anxiety attacks, panic attacks, non-graphic descriptions of needles (will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: food mentioned, minor amnesia, kidnapping hostage, swearing, non-graphic description of anxiety attack, non-graphic description of a needle (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author Notes: <none>

...

Virgil winced, squinting sharply as a blinding white light was trained on his face. A giant light getting forced into someone's face would be jarring under any circumstances, but it was especially so considering he had previously been engulfed in an almost equally jarring darkness. He'd also just awoken from an unexpected stint of disorienting unconsciousness.

He felt a presence behind the light, and the edges of hair tufts caught bits of light from behind the cone of death that was focused on him. The figure was clearly tall, and though Virgil was seated, he could easily tell that if he weren't, this person would probably be a head taller than him at the very least. He tried to twist his wrists in the several zip-ties that had them bound together behind his back, as well as to a rod running up the center of the back of his chair. He clenched his jaw, looking down as the light sent a shock-wave of pain through his eyes.

"Virgil Black." A stern monotone voice came from where he'd seen the shiny bits of hair before. It's familiarity wasn't striking, but it had a relatively calming effect on Virgil's nerves, so his mind didn't feel the need to follow that train of thought.

"That's me, man," He tried, voice coming out slightly hoarse. "Mind explaining why the fuck you've got me tied up in this interrogation basement? Last I checked I'm not involved in any CIA bullshit," He sneered. Suddenly, he heard the sound of someone pushing a chair out and standing sounded somewhere to his right, behind the first figure. Someone else was there too. A step or two sounded as the second entity vaguely came toward Virgil. Great, two assholes to shake off.

"Very funny." A deeper voice came, much snarkier than the first. Virgil felt his spine tingle. This voice was oddly familiar as well, but he was still too out of sorts to try and figure out why.

"I apologize for the unsavory conditions, but it is imperative that our identities be kept classified for the time being. All we need is a minute amount of information, and we will be on our way." The first voice again. A very small clacking sound of plastic came from near the figure's face.

"Imperative to what?" Virgil hissed between clenched teeth, looking back up at the mysterious person. This time, he was able to pick out another feature; the light also caught what appeared to be the rim and lens of a pair of square prescription glasses. That explained the plastic clacking, he guessed. Virgil doubted they could be any other sort of glasses; it's possible that this person was a constantly-wearing-sunglasses type, but based on his brief time interacting with them, Virgil didn't really buy that. As well, some part of his intuition told him they were most certainly prescription, the same part that had noted the familiarity of both voices.

"That will also have to remain classified for now. But enough." The voice grew firm. Virgil tried to keep himself from swallowing audibly. "What are the most recent events that you remember, Virgil?"

He tried to think. "Well it's awful hard to recall anything with that giant light in my face, so can I have a minute to think? On top of that my memory is shit anyway because of my anxiety. Is that cool with you, thing 1 and thing 2?" A scoff came from Thing 2, seemingly off in the corner. Virgil hoped the half-hearted remark would keep them entertained as he tried twisting his ankles. They were tightly and securely duct taped to the legs of his chair, which was slowly cutting off his circulation. He felt his toes starting to grow cold and tingly. That meant he'd only been secured like this for a short amount of time, a couple minutes at most.

"By all means. Take your time." Still the first figure's voice, dripping with sincerity. Virgil detected what seemed to be a hint of remorse in their voice, as if they genuinely felt sorry, or at least uncomfortable with what they were doing. Virgil wondered why the second person was so evasive. He figured he'd try to provoke them into speaking again soon.

But for now, he had to think. What was the last thing he remembered? Before a throbbing headache, before the pitch black, before the sound of heavy rusty doors whining open and closed, and two sets of footsteps approaching him. He hadn't really registered them at the time; he'd been too disoriented, he guessed from some sort of anesthetic.

He tried to think back further. He pulled basic facts from his mind, hoping to jog his memory. He lived in New York, in a one-bedroom apartment with his roommate and best friend Patton. They'd fit two twin beds in their little bedroom. They were both Seniors at NYU. That started things off, at least. He spent a lingering moment recalling the cat they both took care of together. Her name was Natalie, and she was pitch black, each and every hair on her body a rich raven shade.

He knew Patton had planned to have a little get-together with some Psych major friends he had, and encouraged Virgil to bring some of his Techie buddies. They'd gone shopping for snacks last night.

He figured he'd start with that.

"Well, I remember Tuesday night for sure. Me and my roommate went grocery shopping. Getting snacks for a little get-together we were having. Not my idea, of course. I'm not a huge fan of parties, or-"

"We asked for your most recent memories, not your life story," drawled the second voice. Virgil smirked behind his bangs. "Will you get on with it already? Unless Tuesday night is really your most recent memory."

"As much as your- contributions - are appreciated, J, I am conducting this interrogation, and I'd prefer if you'd keep your snide comments to yourself for at least the first session," The first voice came again, hushed and sounding strained. Virgil clung to what little information he got from the comment. The second voice belonged to someone who could be identified as "J" apparently, and this was the first... session? Virgil had to set his mental notes aside for the time being though, since he had evidently not yet produced an adequate response. "My apologies, Virgil. My colleague is... rather, anxious, to... move things along. You may continue."

"No sweat. Sounds like J just needs a bit of a chill pill." Virgil smirked in the general direction he'd heard J's voice coming from. He was met with an almost disturbing silence. As expected. "Anyway. I remember shopping, and heading home, and... eventually sleeping. Ah, I guess I woke up a little late Wednesday morning, because I was rushing around and shit. My roommate looked kinda worried about it, but that's just how he is." Virgil paused for a moment. He wondered if these two mysterious figures knew about Patton and NYU and where he lived and everything, and considering he knew nothing about them or what they wanted from him, he wouldn't have been surprised. Regardless, he figured it would be best to keep things as anonymous as possible for the time being. "...Hmm. Then I think I rushed onto the bus. I think I caught it just before it was leaving. I got to, where I was going, and did what I was meaning to do, and then... I guess I headed home? I remember the thing I had to do, and finishing it, but... after that things get kinda foggy. I dunno." He paused again. A beat of silence. "Then again, I'll probably remember more in a few minutes. Especially if I'm not being literally slowly blinded." He finished, looking up at the figure behind the light with as large eyes as he could manage. The figure cleared their throat.

"Thank you Virgil. As well, there is no need for anonymity. We are fully aware of your roommate Patton, and the Economics lecture you nearly missed on Wednesday. However, your attempt at omission was... if nothing else, entertaining." Virgil scoffed under his breath. Even if his anxiety had predicted this just moments before, he was getting really freaked out now. It's never the same at all, imagining worst case scenarios and actually living them. The initial shock of this whole situation was wearing off, giving way to panic.

"At this time, in return all I can offer you is this. You are aware of the second man in your presence, I'm sure. For now you will know him as J, as you clearly caught on to rather quickly."

"He loves the witty ones," J's voice came this time directly from Virgil's left, and much closer than before. It took all of Virgil's self control not to flinch away. "So you'll entertain him well. He's L, by the way."

L cleared his throat. "Yes, thank you J. I shall be addressed as L. You will likely only see both of us at once. Perhaps on rare occasions we will each come in alone, but J and I are partnered, so that would likely do little more than impair our... performance."

"Partnered? Performance? What am I, a high school science project?" Virgil snickered bitterly. "My wrists are starting to hurt pretty fucking bad. This is pretty sketchy, L. I didn't fucking do anything wrong. Why am I here?" Virgil tried not to let the shrill breathiness overtake his voice too much, but the anxiety rising in his chest was far from merciful. He tried to calm himself internally, but that wasn't exactly working out.

"I can understand your frustrations," L replied, and the glint of his glasses shifted, the small plastic clacking sound coming again with it. Virgil realized it was just L adjusting his glasses, likely out of habit. "But, for your safety, I cannot give you a direct answer to any of those questions yet. Ah, except; no, you are not a high school science project." Virgil could practically taste the smirk on L's face. He wanted to spit at him. He wanted to tear himself out of the fucking zip ties and duct tape. He felt his heart pounding in his chest.

"Listen, I get that you two are having a jolly good time fucking me up, but I'm," Virgil struggled, each word becoming harder to force out of his trembling mouth, "I'm kinda freaking out here." He hated the way his voice cracked then.

Virgil could see the glint of L's glasses shifting again, the tall man turning to look at his sarcastic counterpart. A short nod, and with a small clicking sound, the light was shut off.

Somehow, the room seemed darker than it had before. The change was so disorienting that Virgil couldn't pinpoint just where the sounds of shuffling of feet around him were coming from or going. No screeching metal door sounds came though, so he knew J and L had to be in the room with him still. His breathing was becoming very labored, and it overwhelmed him as the only sound he could hear. God, how he hated anxiety attacks.

"Virgil." J's voice came from directly in front of him - J was likely crouched to be on Virgil's level - and it was uncharacteristically silky smooth. He flinched that time, but was able to keep himself from hissing. He was only sure it was J's because of its specific inflections; there was no way this could be L, and there was certainly no fourth person in the room (he hoped). "I understand you are very disoriented right now, but the last thing we want to do is cause you an anxiety attack. My sincerest apologies for triggering the beginning of one. That aside, I need you to focus on your breathing. Nothing but your breaths and the sound of my voice."

His voice felt like butter melting, gliding across a hot pan and leaving a silky trail. Or maybe like warm honey running down flushed skin. Virgil was captivated, and thank fuck, because if it weren't for Fuck Face #2 over here, he doubted he would have been able to get out of this one so easily. So he focused, focused hard on the labored breaths he was huffing.

"Now, I need you to try to slow down. Just a little bit. Slow down for me. Feel the air filling and retreating in your lungs. Let it stay a little longer. Then, let it leave in a gentle skip instead of a frantic sprint." God, if Virgil wasn't Fucking Freaking Out right now, he'd probably be trying to flirt with Mr. Butter-tongue, considering the shivers going up his spine weren't only thanks to his panic disorder.

Gradually, he managed to slow down. It wasn't a straight path, but eventually he got there. J continued cooing sweet nothings to him as he came down before any sort of climax. He thanked the darkness for hiding his horridly hot face from his captors. He heard a slight creasing of fabric.

"All better?" J's smile was practically visible with the way he almost sweetly sneered those words. His voice came from higher up, so Virgil knew he must've stood once again. He just scoffed in a half-assed cover up.

"Sure, Fuck Face Number two." He tried rocking himself side to side in his chair, but it seemed to be attached to the floor. He groaned.

J tsked a few times. "Is that any way to talk to someone who just kept you from what would surely have been a horridly exhausting anxiety attack? Honestly. You ought to be more grateful, Virgil." Virgil was beginning to passionately hate the way J talked; so sassy and drawly, as if he thought he was some serious hot stuff. Virgil wanted to smack him something awful.

He heard soft receding footsteps, feeling J's presence recoil.

"So how does this work? Is someone gonna have to whip out my dick for me when I have to pee?" Virgil prodded at the void around him.

"Very funny, Virgil. No, you will soon be... enlightened, regarding your temporary living situation, so to speak." L's voice came again, finally, from slightly to the right. It was a lot less variant in tone than J's, and Virgil greatly appreciated the constancy.

He couldn't respond soon enough; he felt something pierce his skin on his left outer thigh. Warm breath teasing at skin behind his left ear was the last thing he remembered. "Go to sleep, V. We'll see you again very soon."

"Night night, J," He whispered, before the lights really went out.

...

Logan sighed, shrugging off his navy pinstriped suit jacket as he shut the door behind him. He held it by the collar in one hand, turning to survey the disheveled mess that the observation room had become over such a short period of time.

Piles and piles of paper were stacked high on the wall-to-wall desk, and stacked higher on the floor. The interrogation light - just an industrial Flashlight with a cone of metal wrapped around it's end to amplify it - had been discarded lazily in one corner. Janus was seated at said desk, slouched over himself on a fold-out metal chair, resting his chin on his palm as he looked out through the false mirror at a peacefully sleeping Virgil.

His hat was resting on a corner of the back of his chair, along with his gold-encrusted swallowtail coat. He looked a bit of a mess. His hair was fraying and splaying everywhere. His eyes looked tired, even if Logan could only see his one blind eye from this angle. The jagged scars that crept up his neck and covered the side of his face seemed paler than usual.

"Are you okay, Janus?" Logan inquired as neutrally as he could manage, sitting beside his friend.

Janus merely side-eyed Logan, in his all-knowing way. "I think you and I both know the answer to that question."

"Look, I know this method is-- well, disconcerting," Logan's words rushed out of his mouth as if they were being chased, "but we do not have another choice right now. We will get this over with soon... we will find a way to get through this." Logan cleared his throat and fidgeted with his tie. Janus considered rolling his eyes and responding snidely, but he knew Logan wasn't taking kindly to these new... circumstances either.

"We will." He settled on an attempt to be reassuring. Janus had always been good at that, or at least he'd been told so. He only wished it worked on himself too, especially now. Logan offered a small smile.

A long silence overtook them. They both simply sat side by side and observed their unconscious hostage. He was sprawled rather inelegantly across a deep grey satin bed, one arm wrapped in a death grip around a plush pillow. His leg stuck out haphazardly over the edge of the bed, and his hair was in worse shape than Janus' - which was saying something, since Janus' hair was notoriously wavy and curly and constantly out of sorts, while Virgil's was just straight. His mouth was slacked open, but he didn't snore. His eyebags were somehow visible under his black eyeshadow.

Logan broke the silence first. This normally would have dismayed Janus, but again, these were... unusual circumstances. "Well, he seems figuratively out cold for the time being. Shall we seek out some sustenance?" Logan shrugged his suit jacket back on. Janus didn't move a muscle.

"I'm not hungry right now. You go ahead, I'll make sure he doesn't wake up and start tearing out his hair or something." Janus' somber tone stole his voice's usual sarcasm. Logan rested a hand on his shoulder with a great softness.

"I'll grab you a little something. Try not to stress yourself out too much." With that, Logan set a water bottle on the desk beside Janus' elbow and left in near silence.

Janus heard a faint receding clicking as Logan walked away down the hall.

[hear-me-growl]

Ambrosia | Ksj | Chapter VI (final)

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ Aᴏ3 || Dɪᴏɴʏsᴜs ·ᴘᴜʙ· ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀᴘᴏsᴛ || ↻ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

> ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut, humor, fluff, angst | s2l > ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: millionaire!Seokjin x bartender!, nyotaimori model!Reader > ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: mature [+18]; strong language and explicit sex > ᴡᴏʀᴅᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.9k

sᴇʀɪᴇs ɪɴᴅᴇx ||  ⟵ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴠ

💙 ᴀ/ɴ: can’t believe this beast is finally done (though I might post a bonus epilogue, we’ll see 😉). Thank you so, so much for reading and leaving likes. Not gonna lie, it’s been a hard one to write, but also extremely fun. As my first story in English (and also my first BTS fic), it holds a special place in my heart. Also I may or may not be a sucker for this Jin. Now that it’s over, don’t be shy to let me know your thoughts. It’s important for creators that you give feedback, even if just a few words or a keyboard smash. You can make someone (not only me) very happy.

Ambrosia brought a lot of people to my blog and I’m super thankful for you all and very excited to write many more stories you’ll enjoy too. Once again, thank you for all the love and support. 

Psst! Keep an eye out for the next update on the Dionysus ·pub· series. Did someone say Hobi?

“Thanks, you fuckers! We love you!”

The growl in the frontman’s voice raised screams and whistles that rumbled through Dionysus. Sweaty, ethereal and devilishly handsome, Taehyung bowed for the crowd chanting his band’s name. Everytime their signature purple bunny posters covered the beaten bricks of the pub, a mass of people flooded the establishment. V’s Moon Rabbits caused a frenzy wherever they played, waking the masses with their sound like a rockslide. The rock, jazzy melodies paired with the singer’s looks skyrocketed their popularity in underground Seoul.

However, no matter how many concerts and jam sessions were scheduled, they always came back to Dionysus —the pub that gave them a chance when nobody did.

After the performance, they usually hung out at the bar until they found a fan desperate for a chance to share the night with their idols. Doe eyes and sultry smiles in every corner, the boys never went home alone.

Tonight you didn’t work behind the bar, though. You just sat on a barstool, keeping your best friend entertained on her shift, ready to jump to her rescue if she felt overwhelmed. Not that she needed it, she handled the crowd with a big smile on her face. Beer in hand, you chatted animatedly with the blonde singer and Namjoon, the drummer, since the others had already found someone to drag to the bathrooms for an intimate rendezvous.

“You broke your drumstick. Again. You owe me 30.000.”

“I distinctly remember you mentioning both of them, so I’m not paying a single won.”

“C’mon, man. Don’t be a pussy,” Taehyung nudged his bandmate’s side as he took a sip of his beer. “Next time don’t make it so easy for her to win.”

“Yeah, pay up, Joon,” you chimed, a taunting tone lingering on your lips.

“Sorry, love. The rules were clear.” 

The tall man leaned back on the bar and gave his signature jaw-dropping smile, flanked by two cute dimples. Who would’ve thought underneath all that there was the lady-killer of the century? You bent forward towards him, sniffing before wrinkling your nose.

“Does it smell like chicken over here?”

A snort came from your other side, Taehyung trying to conceal his laughter and you snickered along. Namjoon’s tattooed hands ran over his chin as he watched the both of you in amusement too before speaking.

“Tell you what it doesn’t smell like: money in your pocket. Now, if you excuse me,” he said, eyes fixed on a juicy target. His self-satisfied smirk turned sultry as his gaze darkened, “there’s a pretty doll over there not sucking my cock and I’d like to change that.”  

In a flash, the drummer finished the rest of his drink, attention solely on the woman at the other side of the bar. Still perched on the counter, he looked at you with a raised brow. “Unless you want to join her?”

“Go get your dick wet already,” you nudged with a groan, fully aware that he wasn’t entirely joking.

Like a panther, he stalked towards his newfound prey, mixing with the crowd. Taehyung and you chatted for a little while. He differed from his charismatic persona on stage. V’s goal was to attract people with mysterious looks and alluring smiles, but Taehyung was much more reserved, rude even, except around his close ones. At some point, you noticed the cute girl behind him. You recognised her immediately and smiled warmly, inviting her to talk to the singer.

“Hi, Tae,” she greeted quietly.

Hearing his name, he turned around to face his number one fan. Her face brightened up with the attention.

“Hey, baby girl. Just arrived?”

“Err— yeah, I’m sorry I missed the show.”

“You’ve been to all of them for the past two years, I think you can skip one, ” he sneered. After that an awkward silence settled between the two. When he started to turn back to you, ending the conversation, she was quick to keep his attention.

“Do you… umm… wanna dance with me?”

“Not now, I’m talking.”

“Oh, of course! I’m sorry I interrupted,” she apologized, looking at you with doe eyes.

“No worries, sweetie,” you intervened as you shot a murderous glare to the man, the second-hand embarrassment urging you to help the poor girl out. “Stay and chat with us. What do you drink?”

Her eyes jumped from you to Taehyung nervously, a flash of pain through them when he lazily checked his phone, clearly indiferent. She swallowed a sigh, shrinking in defeat.

“Thanks for the offer, but I think I’m going to… my friend should be here somewhere,” she grimaced at her own excuse, but bit her lips and cocked her head before speaking again. “See you later, Tae?”

“I don’t know my plans yet, baby girl.”

“Right,” she whispered, looking at his side like he’d shot just her. After a beat, she cleared her throat, eyes on the floor. “Bye, then.”

She walked away, hand on her face to hide from the overflowing crowd and ponytail shaking. The singer took a sip from his beer, still on the phone. He didn’t even bother to look her in the eye to reject her.

“One: that was actually painful to experience, and two: you are a major asshole. That poor girl follows you like a puppy with heart eyes and you know it. Do you have to be so rude?”

“Hey, she knows what she’s getting into,” he answered with a shrug.

That naive fool. What a terrible mistake she made falling for Taehyung. To him there was no point in lying, so he proudly waved the “I’ll never be your boyfriend ” flag before anything happened and then jumped to the next roll in the hay without sparing a glance. Never settling, never making false promises. He was upfront about his intentions, so it never bothered you before, despite how tactless he was. Tonight, however, you felt pity at the heartbroken look in her eyes. Love brought more pain than happiness, she’d learn sooner or later.

Suddenly, something bumped into the barstool and you stumbled forward. Taehyung catched you before you could hit your head on the counter. With a snarl on display, you turned and yelled at the culprit, who zigzagged towards the exit, probably to smoke or take a piss. You scoffed. He probably didn’t even hear you, given his unsteady walk. Just as the door opened, a tall, neatly dressed figure entered the bar, stepping aside just in time to dodge the tripping drunk. 

It took a second for you to register the tingle travelling across your skin like wildfire brought by the newcomer. You had felt it before, that twisted warm fuzzy feeling, a disease that spread and ruined people. All too familiar and foreign at the same time, like rewatching an old movie with new eyes. 

‘You felt something that night and you feel it still’. 

The words echoed in your memory, taking you a couple of weeks back. That night after the event was your last conversation with him and you thought you’d finally rid yourself of unnecessary trouble. Quite the opposite. You found yourself craving for something, no matter how much instant ramen you ate or how long you stayed at work to keep yourself busy. His silence was directly proportional to your uneasiness, but you refused to connect the dots.

Until tonight.

Faster than light, your head snapped back at the singer to avoid being seen. Reason overlapped panic as you assessed the damage. That mind-reading snake was right, you felt something beyond physical for him. At least now, fully aware of the issue, you could fix it. Keeping a cool head, you devised a plan of action. It was imperative to eliminate those thoughts before they infected your brain any further, to show both him and yourself that your interest was merely a passing malaise, like a cold or an indigestion. You just needed to find the right medicine for it.

“You okay there? You look like you either had an epiphany or smoked the worst weed in Seoul.”

Taehyung’s voice was low in your ear and you realised the lack of distance between the two. Feeling him chuckle, you looked up at him. You’d forgotten he was even there, hands still low on your waist. In a feeble attempt to regain some control over yourself, you grabbed the shirt over his taut stomach and swallowed hard. Half-lidded, he tongued the corner of his mouth revealing a smug smile. No wonder people lost their shit about him. He looked bewitching and fun, but most importantly, uncomplicated. The perfect remedy for your stupid, stupid heart.

“Kiss me,” you blurted, eyes locked on the mark at the edge of his lower lip.

“What?”

A quick glance back at the door and you frowned before closing the distance to press your mouth roughly on his. For a second, he seemed confused, but then responded eagerly to the kiss. When you pulled back, panting and determined, he tongued the corner of his mouth in amusement.

“Not complaining, but where did all that ‘I don’t make out with my buddies’ philosophy go?”

“As far as buddies go, you’re the shittiest one I have. Not much of a loss there,” you joked, shifting your weight impatiently. Now of all times, Tae had to grow friendship ethics. Although you should’ve praised his character development, right now was a rather inconvenient moment to be a gentleman. What you needed was a distraction in the form of an unapologetic fuckboy. Fast.

Luck on your side, Taehyung just grinned cheekily, happy to indulge your sudden neediness, and tipped his head towards the crowd. He let you guide him through Dionysus, to a dark spot where you’d fuse with the stench of sweat and bad ideas.

“Gimme a minute, ok? Don’t move!” Shortie greeted with a warm smile, waving above intoxicated laughs and the strings of an old song’s bass. 

Seokjin nodded and leaned on the counter, avoiding the alcohol spilt all over it. Dionysus was especially crowded that night, which only made scanning the multitude in hopes to find you harder. 

After your last conversation, he gave you some space, a chance to miss him. On paper, it was a good strategy. What he didn’t expect was his plan backfiring. After a couple of weeks of self-restraint, his will power ran out. He missed you. Instead of working on his next project as he should’ve, his car brought him across Seoul to you —his personal bittersweet pill. He couldn't help but smile, even when the air reeked of sweat and the sticky floor threatened to peel off the red of his soles. What wouldn’t one of those sensationalists that defamed him give to publicly gut him for his new-found addiction. Those ever-changing eyes that begged him to keep trying despite your constant rejection made quitting you impossible. Only if you would see it too.

“Now, I’m all yours. Sorry to make you wait,” said the petite bartender, already pouring his usual drink. “I’m happy to see you, it’s been a while.”

“Work has been busy lately. No help tonight?”

 “If you mean it in a ‘ is my hot-ass crush here? ’ kind of way, she is,” your friend said, catching his intentions easily. Not that he put any effort in masking them, constantly looking around the place for you. “I don’t know where she went, though. She was sitting over there just a moment a— what the...?”

Seokjin followed her gaze, fixed intently somewhere behind him. Your body pressed against someone’s, fingers buried in blonde hair. Unable to look away, he watched a mouth clash against yours before traveling down your neck.

“Oh, Jin, I’m sorry. This dumbhead, I don’t know what’s gotten into her. Taehyung? Really? He’s like her little brother.”

I’m pretty sure “little brothers” don’t stick their tongues down your throat . Shortie kept talking in the background, probably making excuses for you. To his surprise, the first thing he felt wasn’t anger or jealousy, but something close to satisfaction. An odd sense of pride filled his chest every time the blonde touched you where he had before, when he kissed over the skin he had marked as his already. 

The man turned the two of you around, giving Seokjin a perfect view of your backside. Long fingers travelled down your spine, cupping your delicious ass with a rough squeeze. The same ass he remembered perking back for more despite the leftover sting his palm left behind. He couldn’t shake the vibrant shade of red he created that night, nor the soft whines you sang for him. Pretty eyes clouded with lust as you came on top of him, now etched in his memory forever —along with the iciness you left behind on his sheets the morning after.

With a fist full of his leather jacket, you laughed. Seokjin could tell it didn’t quite reach your eyes. In fact, it seemed like the attention on the man in front of you was only half-hearted. 

Yes, he noticed the pink tint on your cheeks, the hips grinding on a thigh clad in ripped jeans and shortened breaths. But he was also aware of your eyes bouncing around the pub distractedly as your companion nipped your jaw. A smirk tugged on Seokjin’s lips. He’d seen withdrawal before, when his mother quit smoking. Gum could not replace a cigarette and a toyboy could not replace him.

Meanwhile, you kept trying to redirect your wandering thoughts to Taehyung, who locked lips once again, sucking on your lower one. Closing your eyes, you attempted to concentrate solely on his tongue on your mouth. The air was humid, too many bodies in one room. It stuck to your skin the same way it did at the club with Seokjin, but somehow thicker. Tae smelled rich and exotic, nothing like the subtle sweetness of his surely expensive cologne. You remember because it lingered on your skin the morning after, along with the marks he imprinted all over your body. You weren’t as excited for Taehyung to leave his.

Catching your train of thought, you emptied your mind and only allowed pleasure to invade it. You left out a sigh at the hot pressure running through your veins as his thigh flexed against your core just right. It was all you needed at that moment, a nice body against yours to fight the infection of Kim Seokjin. Large hands roamed your body, brushing your breasts on their way up to your hair and tangled there to deepen the kiss. Just when you had achieved the perfect balance between numbing everything around you and enjoying the feeling, the blonde whispered hotly in your ear. His low grumble shook you out of your blissed state, crumbling any prospect of eluding reality.

All of the sudden you found the spicy kisses bland. A light frown etched between your eyebrows when you studied his profile. It dawned on you that it was Taehyung who just told you to come all over his jeans. Taehyung. The same guy who sent you stupid memes while taking a shit because “he was bored”. Fuck, you even came close to orgasming in front of him. Because of him. You winced at the thought. What a genius idea, 15-minutes-ago you. Way to go.

About to detangle from his hold to apologise for the impromptu makeout session —a damn good one, true, but probably scarring for life— he beat you to it. Hands still around you, he arched an eyebrow over your shoulder. 

“Hey, man. Want something?” he rasped out.

“The lady and I need to talk.”

Great . Just fucking peachy. You took a steady breath before turning around, putting a bit of space between you and your friend. The first thing you noticed was Seokjin’s piercing gaze, squinting slightly from how intently he looked at you. 

“Do we now?” you questioned acidly, wearing your best unfazed visage.

Seokjin looked damn fine tonight. Hands casually in his pockets and the gleam of his silver watch just showing. In that position his shoulders squared further. The urge to bite along the curves leading up to his neck rose out of nowhere. You really needed a cold shower.

He smirked at your response, as if he knew your deepest, dirtiest secrets.

“Yes, we do,” a command more than anything else. Still, you recognised the glint of playfulness in the black coffee of his eyes. The one you foolishly claimed for yourself, even though he probably used it on other girls. “Leave the puppy behind and let’s go outside. It’s too loud in here.”

“Who the hell is this jerk again?” Tae enquired dryly, offended by the nickname. He placed a hand on your hip, squeezing slightly to regain your attention.

You jumped slightly at the contact. Seokjin’s eyes snapped up, acknowledging his presence behind you, still too close. The sharp edge of his jaw rolled in annoyance, almost imperceptibly, but he was quick to smooth it with light-hearted indifference.

“The only reason she’s making out with you, kid.”

Amidst the deafening ambiance, you heard a pin drop. There was a beat of silence, tension so high it took you both a moment to register. Then, Taehyung stepped forward, moving you aside. He was not a fighter, despite what one may think with that foul mouth and attitude of his, but he had no problem in punching a douchebag.

“The fuck did you say?”

“Tae,” you stopped, catching his arm. Seokjin remained unaffected, holding the younger’s glare with neutral expression. “Please, don’t. Just go, I’ll deal with the asshole.”

Brows still furrowed, he studied you for a moment with scepticism. “You sure?” 

“Yeah, look I—” You pulled him closer, so you could talk to him more privately. No need for Seokjin to hear anything that could be used against you later. “I’m sorry. About all of this, I mean. I shouldn’t have kissed you tonight when there’s other, um, stuff on my mind. I needed something to help me unwind and you were here so... ”

“Five more minutes and you might’ve ‘unwound’ all the way.”

Your face burned immediately, aware of his lingering taste and the stickiness between your thighs. Pure joy bloomed on his lips at your reaction.

“Back to the whole friend thing?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, “but you owe me a beer for the semi.” 

With that, he nodded at Seokjin in some sort of solemn bro code and the older reciprocated. Men’s short grudge-holding span was always fascinating to witness. He waved both of you goodbye, as if the awkward situation had never happened. Trust Taehyung not to really give a fuck. He was the best at it.

You eyed Seokjin up and down and snaked through the crowd towards the back exit without a word. He followed closely the trail you opened, people too distracted to care if their drinks spilled when you shoulder them. Not sure if you felt angry, relieved, mortified, confused,  scared shitless or all of the above, you avoided looking back to check if Seokjin was still there. How did a fun night out with your friends end up like this? You were at home and ready to order a nutritionist’s worst nightmare. You coming to Dio, right? The boys perform tonight. Pretty pleeeease?���� That cursed text was to blame. Whoever invented best friends should be sued.

The difference in temperature made you shiver when you stepped out of the pub. A single bulb illuminated the alley, rain puddles and broken glass reflecting its dim light. The night was calm. Not a single siren wailed, like they usually did. Only the constant boom of the bass drum could be heard now, noise muffled underwater, as the door closed behind Seokjin. Your own pulse followed the rhythm, feeling the vibrations deep in your chest.

“Why are you here?” you finally asked. “Just to ruin my night or did you make a sport of being a jerk?”

“Doing you a favour. It didn’t look like you were having a good time,” he answered, amused. You could almost see the ‘I know when you are’ itching to follow. 

“That’s not for you to decide. Go home.”

“Not without you.”

His wolfish smirk stretched as he threw a wink. A bit late to try to lift the mood, in your opinion. He seemed to forget that the world didn’t revolve around his stupid, handsome face. It happened at the nyotaimori event, and it happened tonight. Even if you would’ve ended up alone anyway, he had no right to come all the way to Dionysus to mess with your head and ruin your plans —said plans being to drink the embarrassment of almost fucking Taehyung away. Still, he shouldn’t have interfered. You shouldn’t have tried to relax your emotional cramp with Tae either, but it was his mistakes you wanted to focus on, not yours.

“I missed that frown of yours, sushi girl.”

Unaware that you’d been scowling, your arms crossed in self-defense.

“Listen, you can’t just barge in on my life every time you’re bored,” you chided. “Get a hobby, plant a tree or whatever. Didn’t you like fishing? Go do that. Just don’t bother me.”

His features softened slightly. “You remember.”

How could you forget the half an hour rant at the burger joint? Truth be told, you did disconnect half-way, but you recall his somewhat boyish excitement as he gave you a whole monograph on baits. Also the fish puns, those you recall with painful accuracy.

“Just because you are full of yourself enough to have your ears clogged doesn't mean that mine are.”

He shook his head and laughed at your comment. When he stood in front of you to brush a stray strand out of your face, you froze for a second. The tenderness of the gesture was suffocating, his gaze on yours too. No matter how hard you tried to keep distance, Seokjin always found a way to close it. You wanted to run.

His eyes fell on your lips for a moment, intense and wanting. Suddenly that sliver of fondness evaporated from them as something else caught his attention. A hand slid down to your neck and his thumb wiped there repeatedly as if he wanted to clean the spot. Once again, his jaw tensed and his stare grew jet black. Swallowing hard, you felt your cheeks reddening both at his touch and the admonishing tut he gave. He was glaring at what you assumed was a hickey left there by Taehyung. Irrefutable proof of your useless attempt to escape the itch that was Seokjin. Because he was exactly that —a maddening, unreachable itch that one cannot assuage. 

“Don’t you think it’s cruel to toy with that Kurt Cobain wannabe?” The tone remained teasing, but his hard, steel stare gave away his mood. He’d never felt jealousy before, and it tasted dry and sour. “He might get the idea that you’re interested.”

You held his gaze, puffing with cockiness to disguise any sign of guilt. “I wouldn’t worry about him, he gets what casual means. Ask him for pointers on that.”

“You think I don’t?” he chuckled airly, brow raising. “I’ve had plenty of that, believe me. But this? Us ? Nothing casual about it, sweet cheeks. I told you already: I like you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Perfect teeth on display, he smiled at you. Selfish bastard, airing those words so carelessly. He gave the impression of a teacher explaining the slowest student how to do simple math, not a man admitting his feelings. Yet, the confession sounded brutally sweet in the quiet back alley. Perhaps the beer still buzzing was to blame or the opiate smell of his cologne coating your senses, but you wondered if it would be that bad to believe him. Then reality poured on you like tar. Even if he did feel like he said, it wasn’t worth the risk. He’d grow tired eventually and leave, like everyone else. He’d ask why couldn’t you be sweet and shy like his exes. He’d tell you that he would never introduce someone like you to his parents. He’d text saying that he would come home late after work, night after night. He’d call you a slut because ‘don’t lie to me, I saw you flirting’ with someone’s panties in his back pocket still. Every time you were naive enough to catch feelings, you’d paid for your stupidity tenfold and ended up hurt and broken. You wouldn’t go through it all again.

“There’s no us ,” you reminded both him and you.

“We should change that, then,” he offered with a shrug. “I want us.”

The fucker knew how to play the strings of your heart, a master puppeteer with the cruelest intentions. Every word was a shiver of excitement that pooled in your uneasy stomach. It felt a lot like love and it was terrifying. Love always faded into ugly crying, ice-cream and vodka. Cornered against your own crumbling walls, you transformed your mixed feelings into bitterness.

“I don’t know what kind of spoiled-prince fantasy you live in, but in the real world people don’t always get what they want. Shocking, I know. Get a whisky to swallow that crazy fact and leave me alone.”

You shoved him away and walked back towards the door, desperate for Seokjin-less air. The pressure in your lungs was suffocating. 

“Don’t run away, let’s talk about this.”

“There’s nothing left to say, rich boy. I told you I don’t play couples anymore.” Seokjin snorted, surely about to make a quick retort, but you cut him. “Find someone else for your little rom-com attempt. Now, if you’ll excuse me I’m going back in to find a man who can fuck me and not catch feelings after the first kiss like a Disney princess.”

“I’m not sure if your goal is to hurt me or make me lose interest, sweet cheeks, but it’s not working,” he stated, low grit in his tone. “Push me away all you want, I’m not letting my perfect woman slip through my fingers. Not when I know you feel the same way I do.”

You should’ve left and forgotten about him, but you took the bait.

“Oh, please, enlighten me. How’s that exactly?”

“Restless. Every fucking second of the day. Wondering if I’d laugh at the joke I just told or if I’d enjoy the new restaurant you’re at. Tired and grumpy, because you want me lying next to you so bad that you can’t sleep at night. Frustrated, because the moment we kissed, I ruined everyone else for you.”

You snorted, amused both at the accuracy of his words and how much they irritated you. Hopefully he’d assume you were mocking him. It had to be some sort of superpower, there was no other way he could read you so effortlessly. With every layer of sarcasm he peeled you felt more naked, more vulnerable to his sharp sweet nothings. Falling for him felt inevitable and you were afraid of crash-landing.

“Maybe you didn’t see me making out with a guy literally 5 minutes ago.”

“Oh, I did, sweet cheeks,” he said slowly, taking a step towards you. His lips curled upwards and you swallowed hard at the sight. He was hypnotic, expensive clothes fitting like a second skin. What an awful moment for your legs to become butter. “I saw his sloppy tongue on your mouth and you not smiling at him like you do with me. I saw how you kissed him just to take me out of your head.”

Your retreat ended quickly when your back bumped into the door you had been so determined to walk through. Emergency exit now blocked, the only strategy left was to hold your ground. And you would’ve, but the beating of your heart drowned any coherent thought. He stopped when the tips of his shoes kissed yours. Lifting your chin up, you tried to swallow the sand in your throat to no avail. Seokjin propped his hands on each side of your head, the slow tempo of his movements almost theatrical. Spikes of anticipation raised all over your skin. As he caged you, his eyes leveled with yours. You saw a glimmer of triumph in them, lips stretched in a self-satisfied grin. Maybe you could bite it off, kiss him hard enough to erase it.

“Careful, your ego is showing.” 

“Your bluff too,” he countered.

The poorly lit alley stayed silent for hours in the little bubble your words created. Stray raindrops that slid from the rooftops hit the ground uncomfortably loud. Perhaps it was just your percepcion. Seokjin held your glare with blazing determination. It was useless, you couldn’t convince him to leave. Around him you felt made out of glass, he saw through every lie and every rejection. You were love-sick and you both knew. There was no miracle remedy, no snake oil to cure this heart infection —it spread too deep already. The further away you tried to stay out of love, the deeper you got in it. The poetic irony might just as well slap an ‘I was here’ sticker on your forehead. 

With a heavy sigh you accepted defeat. 

“What do you want from me, Jin?”

Your whisper came out as a plea. Arms went limp on your sides, exhausted. ‘ Please, be gentle ,’ you wanted to say. Even if the words never came out, Seokjin understood. Your features stiffened as you braced yourself for the blow, ready to take the hit. You looked too fragile, too beaten. He hated it. Seokjin felt the need to hold you and make all the promises he intended to keep. He’d be there to lull you to sleep if you cried, to share your smiles, to lift you when you fell, to say ‘sorry’ every time he’d fuck up and ‘it’s ok’ when you did. A four-letter word burned his throat like alcohol, but he wouldn’t voice it —he didn’t want to scare you away.

“Right now? I want to kiss you. I want to take you home and take my time eating you out to get whatever doubt you might have about me, about us, out of your system. I want to make you come while you scream my name and forget that stupid idiot and any other idiot before him. I want to fuck you slow to make you understand how much you want me and then hard to show you how much I need you.” He inched even closer, trapping your eyes with his so you could read his heart in them. “I want to find you beside me in the morning and make a routine out of it. I want you to laugh at my naked butt in an apron while I make breakfast and fuck you again and again in the kitchen until you to beg me to never let go.” 

He paused, lifting a hand to cup your cheek. His eyes fleeted down as his lips ghosted yours, tickling the skin with his breath, and then back up for his next words. 

“I want everything with you.”

You were desperate to close the distance in a kiss, drown in his words. Techno beat pounded in your chest so loud that you thought something might explode. Everything . You wanted that too.

“Jin, I…” as you talked, your lips graced his. He looked at you intently, pupils completely blown and a choked gasp escaped him at the brief contact. The hand on your face tensed, showing you his neediness. It only spurred yours. “I’ve tried this before and it never turns out well.” 

“Not with me, sweet cheeks.” 

“I’m scared. What if—?” 

“Don’t be,” he cut with a smile and a wink. “You’re stuck with me. I promise.”

Tired of fighting a lost battle, you gave in. Your body moved on its own and you closed the barely-existing space between you, sealing your mouth and his with a kiss. There was urgency in his response, as his tongue immediately asked for permission. He kissed you with a starved need that you were quickly to match. His kisses were ardent, numbing you from anything outside Seokjin. Every doubt and heartbreak died where he started. Eager to taste you, he bit your lips until they puffed. Although neither of you couldn’t get enough of it, there was something gentle in your passion. His arms encased you and brought you close enough to fuse with him. Muscle memory laced your fingers to his dark hair, disheveling its perfect shape into whatever you wanted, and your hips grounded his. You molded together in a frenzy of desire. It was satisfying to see every limb and kiss back in place, exactly where they were meant to be. Like one of those compilation videos, it was addicting. The only thing missing was his bare skin on yours to make the moment perfect.

As you got lost in him, his words filled your head, triggering a moan that Seokjin drank with devotion. Perhaps it was foolish, but you let yourself believe him. No flowers, no romantic music in the background, just sincerity in his eyes as he said them. He didn’t paint a movie-like romance where every day would be perfect. He didn’t swear a life of never-ending happiness or vowed to never hurt you. No, he made one promise: that he’d be there. The effortless conviction in that one promise told you that he’d stay and try, that he’d fight for you. He was stubborn and persistent enough for you to trust him. Besides, he always kept his promises before. 

Now that you allowed what you felt for him to flow freely, you couldn’t cointan it. He flipped your world upside down. You wanted to tell him what an irritating, fun, conceited, irresistible prick he was, that sometimes you would choke him and others you would kiss him until your lips drew blood, that with him you felt the barest you’ve ever been, but also the safest. Words weren’t enough to express all that, so you kissed him fervently and urged him closer, your heartbeat reverberating in his chest, to show him instead. He grunted, immersed in you and those words you didn’t speak. No need for it, he heard them in the way you moaned and pressed against his hardened cock, seeking desperately some kind of friction. Your hands roamed his shoulders, crinkling the material of his shirt. He felt so yearned for that he forgot to breathe. When his lungs couldn’t take it anymore, Seokjin broke the kiss, missing it the moment cold air hit his wet lips. You whined at the loss, but allowed yourself a moment to recover. Panting heavily, you both stared at each other. At that moment, he looked perfect. Dishevelled and void of that cold mask he wore most of the time, it was the final shot you could take —you were recklessly and catastrophically in love, with no hope of recovery. All that fight you put up, just to lose anyway. What a poor soldier you’d make. With a breathy laugh you rested your forehead on his chin, which brought a bright smile. Still trying to get some air, he kissed your hairline tenderly as he brushed back flyaway strands. Your fingers mimicked the intimate gesture, drawing circles on the nape of his long neck.

“By the way, I don’t beg,” you quipped suddenly, lifting your head so he could see the arch on your brow and a half bitten smirk. The moment was getting too soppy already.

“You look like you enjoy new experiences.”

A wink and a kiss and then you were in his arms again, hidden in your newfound shelter as it started to drizzle in the back alley of Dionysus.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: @aretha170

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ, ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ © hear-me-growl, October 2020 

[max-is-tired]

bad things happen request: A1 + roceit? -ren

Remember me (for centuries)

Pairing: the AU is queerplatonic Roceit and romantic Analogicality, but the ships are not very prominent in this installment

Characters: Roman Sanders, Janus Sanders, Remus Sanders, Patton Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Logan Sanders

Words: 3.835

Warnings: superhero AU, implied morally grey Janus, Remus and Roman, superpowers, swearing, a muzzle is used, fighting, there’s a character (OC) that has very black and white views and definitely goes too far because of it, if I need to add anything else please tell me

Notes: guess who’s back babey!!!!! After two months of writer block, I’ve managed to churn out this little monster in less than 3 days and I’m honestly lowkey real proud of it sjkcndjkscn it’s inspired by this idea I had the other day and after I remembered this specific prompt I just went full feral writer mode. I even have a few ideas for a sequel, so there’s that I guess!!

First fic for the @badthingshappenbingo!! The red squares are prompts that have already been requested, feel free to send more in though!! I don’t know how long it’ll take me to get to them but hopefully you won’t have to wait too long. Hope you guys like the fic!!!

Commission me!!  Buy me a coffee!! Join my Discord server!!  AO3!!

Once upon a time, there was a King.

He was as regal as he was mysterious, powers so strong he might as well have been able to make literal mountains kneel before him. Everyone knew of him, from the filthiest criminal to the richest man. He saw everything, heard everything, nothing and no one could escape his power. He was the judge and the executioner, protected the city in the way he saw most fit with the Puppeteer and the Duke standing at his sides.

The government called him dangerous. The people secretly called him a hero.

Once upon a time, there was a King. Until one day, he was no more -exactly how Roman had wanted it to be.

+++

Parting ways with Janus and Remus hadn't been easy. They'd been at his side since the very beginning, from the first appearance of his power to his decision to do whatever it took to protect those who couldn't.

"I'm always down to fight the government," Janus had said with a smirk, easily slipping into his Puppeteer alter ego as Remus simply swung his morning star around with a feral grin.

In the end, though, the King had had to go, and even then those two had supported his decision. What Roman had done to deserve his brother and his partner, he still had to understand. And besides, it wasn't as if he had had to cut them out of his life or anything! They still hung out lots during the day, either at the twin's apartment or at Janus' penthouse (being the only heir to a very rich family could have its perks, he supposed).

But at the end of the day, when the sun left the sky and the cover of the night fell over the city, it was the Puppeteer and the Duke who patrolled along the dirty rooftops, taking on those crimes Lady Justice seemed to overlook -Roman was nothing but a college student now and could only watch from afar, some part of him stubbornly longing for days that had since come to an end.

Or at least, that had been the plan. Then, well, Patton had happened.

They had met during a Psychology class they were both taking -for Patton, it was for his major, while Roman was just there for the credit. They had hit it off almost immediately, the both of them bonding over the pain that were morning classes and bemoaning how much money they were probably going to spend at the local coffee shop in order to survive the semester.

As much as he prided himself of being way smarter than people gave him credit for, Roman couldn't say he had figured his classmate's secret identity out immediately. It had taken him a few weeks and even then, he had needed Janus' help for his brain to click the dots into place.

Well, actually, it had been thanks to the recordings of one of the Puppeteer and the Duke's patrol sessions, during which the two had managed to stumble upon the new ragtag trio of superheroes, Storm, Heart and Logic, taking care of a small robbery downtown.

Janus and Roman had been analyzing the video, with Remus unhelpfully chucking pieces of popcorn at the back of their heads, when video-Heart had thrown his head back and laughed, grinning from ear to ear as Logic seemed to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration.

Roman had frozen, the laugh ringing clear as day in his head as the last piece of a puzzle he hadn't known had been there slid into place -he knew that laugh, heard it every Tuesday and Friday morning before class as he sipped at his coffee and watched Patton try to fit as many puns as he could into a single sentence.

Patton was Heart. His friend was a superhero. Well, shit.

So yeah, Roman had figured it out and immediately started panicking about the newfound information. Janus and Remus, of course, had found the entire thing hilarious, teasing him about having somehow managed to stumble upon and befriend a superhero without even knowing it.

In the end, though, what exactly could he do? Roman was only a college student, and it wasn't like Patton was doing this alone -he had Storm and Logic by his side, keeping him safe and watching his back. His friend would be fine.

Then, of course, in came Virgil and Logan, the infamous roommates Patton had wanted to introduce him to since day one. In less than an hour, Roman had managed to help Pat gently bully Virgil out of his binder for the night and start a debate with Logan about the scientific accuracy of Elsa's powers and just how theoretically powerful she could have become based on the abilities she had showed in the movies.

(Olaf's existence had sparked a whole other tangent about conscience and the existence of souls on a metaphysical level, but Roman was not going to think about it lest he ended up having another existential crisis).

The real plot twist had happened much later into the night, when Roman had woken up to frantic whispering and soft rustling coming from somewhere to his right. Still keeping his eyes shut, he'd managed to catch the words "robbery" and "be careful" before hearing one of the windows gently slide shut.

Making sure to not alert anyone about his eavesdropping, Roman had waited until all he could hear was steady, even breathing before quietly sitting up, eyes shining gold into the darkness for a second before spotting Logan and Patton's figures on the ground -as for Virgil, he seemed to be nowhere to be found, the apartment being completely silent beside the two sleeping soundly beside him.

Roman had a suspicion. A very nagging suspicion in the back of his mind that was probably going to bother him until he got to the bottom of his. So, in the morning, he'd said goodbye to his new friends and headed to Janus' place, pondering over alternative explanations on the way over. Not that it would have been of any use since Janus did confirm that a robbery had taken place the night before, and that it had been halted by no other than Storm himself.

So. Virgil was Storm. Which, by taking the most logical leap, meant Logan was no other than Logic. Cool cool cool. No doubt no doubt no doubt.

… There was no way Roman could sit back and watch, was it?

And so, Prince stepped into the light, flames dancing on his fingertips and on the blade of his katana -a gift from Janus, who had reacted to Roman's sheepish smile with an eyebrow raise- and a bright red sash crossing his chest.

Logan and the others had been rather welcoming to the new superhero amongst their group, if not a little skeptical about his motives -Roman could not quite tell them he was doing all of this to give them an additional layer of protection, since he knew from experience just how dangerous the superhero gig could be. They thought all he wanted was to protect the innocents like a knight in shining armor, and he just never bothered to correct them. It wasn't like that was a lie, anyway so he didn't really feel guilty about it.

… Okay, maybe he felt a little guilty about keeping his former identity a secret. So what? It wasn't like he could go to his new friends and say "Hey, remember that one dude that scared the shit out of everyone? Yeah, that was me, fun times am I right??". And besides, it wasn't like King was going to do a comeback anytime soon, if ever. Right?

Wrong. So very, very wrong.

+++

It had started as a normal night-time patrol around the outskirts of the city. Roman had been joking around with Virgil, jumping easily from rooftop to rooftop as they exchanged dry remarks and teasing nicknames with Logan and Patton watching on in amusement.

Then, suddenly, an explosion.

They'd all frozen, exchanging quick glances as a cloud of smoke started to rise into the distance. Without a word, the four had bolted, the easy atmosphere that had surrounded them up until that moment gone in an instant as they prepared themselves to deal with whatever was expecting them.

They reached the plaza in a few minutes, immediately setting out to assess the damage. Strangely enough, there didn't seem to be much out of order -there were no civilians around, the few that had been around at that time of the night having been probably startled away by the explosion -which had probably gone off at the center of the square, judging by the debris and fairly-sized hole. Though the cause of it didn't seem to be anywhere to be found.

At least, until an amused chuckle resounded from behind the four.

They turned around, ready for a fight, only to be met with a grinning Nautilus.

"Oh, how nice of you guys to drop in!" the hero chirped, his grin only widening even more -Roman did not like the crazy glint in the other's eyes, his hand moving to hover a little closer to the hilt of his sword as a bad feeling started to pool in the pit of his stomach.

"Hello, Nautilus!" Patton greeted, his smile now a little tense around the edges -Roman couldn't help but feel glad he wasn't alone in his distrust, not missing the way Logan and Virgil also seemed to be a little more on guard.

It wasn't like Nautilus was a villain or anything, at least not for the public opinion. He meant well, Roman knew that, but the way he viewed the world -black and white, good vs evil with no space for anything else in-between those extremes- was something Roman just couldn't trust, knowing all too well how such a way of thinking could very easily skew someone's morals way too close to ruthlessness and self-justified cruelty.

So yeah, Nautilus might have been a hero, but Roman wouldn't trust him with the life of the most innocent of kittens.

"Nautilus, do you know the cause of that explosion?" Logan spoke up, his expression unreadable.

"Oh, that was me, nothing to worry your pretty brain about my dear Logic," Nautilus responded, waving the concern away with way too much nonchalance for Roman's liking. "I was just taking care of some little pests, nothing to worry about."

"By making the fucking square blow up?" Virgil asked, scoffing.

The other simply shrugged, once again dismissing the remark. "Sometimes you gotta do some harsh things to get rid of a problem, don't you agree?"

Oh, Roman did not like that smile one bit.

"What do you mean?" he asked, forcing himself to keep his voice neutral as his grip on his sword tightened.

Still smiling, Nautilus snapped his fingers, a water tendril appearing from behind him. And in its grasp, a familiar figure uselessly struggled for freedom, brown eyes glaring daggers at the hero's back. Faintly, Roman could easily picture the snarl currently adorning the Puppeteer's lips.

Lips he could not see, because Janus' mouth was currently being covered by a muzzle.

"Pretty cool right?" Nautilus grinned, stepping onto another tendril to let himself be carried at Janus' level. "A friend of mine made it, perfect to stop our local charmer from using his nifty powers."

Ignoring the way the other heroes were staring at him in various stages of horror, he grabbed Janus' chin, tugging his face forward until they were barely inches apart.

"Not so cocky without that silver tongue of yours, uh?" he purred, before pushing him back. "It's high time you face the consequences of your evil doings, you slimy snake."

But the Puppeteer's eyes were no longer glaring at Nautilus. No, they were trained on Roman's form, on his clenched fists and the way his eyes kept flashing a familiar golden color.

"Well, look who's gone and fucked up!" a voice chirped from above, attracting everyone's attention to the top of one of the surrounding buildings. The Duke gave the heroes a toothy grin and waved, legs swinging into the air with his signature morning star resting idly on his shoulder.

"Ah, the Duke," Nautilus hummed, crossing his arms with a cocky smirk, "I was wondering when you'd show up. Are you here to rescue your dear teammate? Please, do try, I'd love to bring down two villains in one day."

For the surprise of almost the entire square, the Duke let out a hearty laugh, throwing his head back as his whole body shook with the force of his cackles.

"Oh, please! As if I'll need to do literally anything," he said, amusement lacing every word. "This is your funeral, dude. You really angered the wrong royal."

Nautilus frowned, opening his mouth to reply -probably to ask what in the world the other was talking about- but all that left his lips was a startled yelp, fighting to keep himself steady as the earth started to rumble and shake beneath his feet. Because of the sudden distraction, all the tendrils of water broke off, included the one holding the Puppeteer. Without missing a beat, Remus jumped down and grabbed Janus before he could pummel the ground, holding him bridal style while sporting his best shit-eating grin.

"Told ya!" he sing-sang, sending Nautilus a mocking glare. Not that the hero was looking at him, mind you. He was more focused on his fellow "hero" standing just a few feet to the center of the square, his eyes blazing golden.

"Duke," called Roman, his voice clear and authoritative as it carried all around the plaza, "get him out of that damned muzzle, would you?"

"Aye aye sir!!" Remus chirped, easily ripping the piece of metal away. "Do you think you could leave a few bones intact for me to break? I wanna have some fun too!"

"Sorry, Duke-" the other chuckled, the sound sounding almost haunting to everyone else's ears- "but I don't know if I’ll have enough self-control left to do that."

A circle of golden light appeared at Roman's feet, rising up in the air and enveloping his body as it went. And then it was gone as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving behind a vision no one had ever thought they'd see again.

Bright, golden eyes. Hair as dark as the night. The uniform of a royal, a burgundy sash crossing his chest from shoulder to hip. In his hand, a familiar sword glinted under the artificial light of the street lamps, the hilt the same golden as its owner's irises.

The Prince was gone, lost in a circle of golden light. And at his place stood a very angry-looking King.

"That- that can't be!" Nautilus exclaimed, taking a step back. "You're gone, you can't be here!"

"Can't I?" The King -Roman, the King was Roman- asked, cocking his head to the side. "Who are you to tell me where I can and cannot be, Nautilus?"

"I'm a hero!!" the other snapped, his words laced with the desperation of a man who is standing face to face with his impending doom. "I'm a hero, you rotten king, and I after tonight I will be remembered as the one who wiped you and your villainous reign out of this city!"

Roman hummed, looking absolutely unimpressed as he calmly inspected his sword.

"You call yourself the hero… and yet, you are the one using downright torture-like methods to try and squash down those who don't fit your narrow view of good. All the Duke and I did was rescue our companion form your grasp. So tell me, Nautilus -are you really sure I'm the one you should call "villain" here?"

The hero growled at those words, eyes flashing in barely contained rage as tendrils after tendrils of water rose up behind him. "By the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging for forgiveness at my feet."

"Oh honey," the King drawled, lips stretching into a feral grin, "at the end of this, I won't be the one begging for their life."

And off they went, crashing into each other in a whirlwind of water and metal.

Taken as they were with each other, the two supers barely spared a glance to the huddle of five people looking on from the side of the square.

"What the fuck." Storm whispered, staring shell-shocked at the scene in front of him. "What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck-"

"I know, right?" the Duke exclaimed, completely ignoring the hero's obvious growing panic.

"Duke, play nice," the Puppeteer drawled, with the heat of someone who had had to deal with the other's antics for way too long to really care anymore.

"Storm, please take some deep breaths for me," Logic said, stepping into Virgil's line of sight. "Do you remember your breathing techniques, yes?"

Storm nodded, visibly trying to get his breathing under control to do just that. Heart, obviously worried, moved to sit beside him, resting one hand on his shoulder to tap a regular rhythm there.

Virgil looked up at him with a small, grateful smile, raising his own hand to cover Patton's before closing his eyes to focus on his breathing.

Once it was clear Storm's panic wasn't going to advance any further and risk affecting his powers, Janus let his eyes wander towards Logic's standing figure, the hero's gaze fixed on the ongoing fight.

"You don't seem too fazed with the revelation," the Puppeteer pointed out, arching an eyebrow. "I mean, it's not every day you find out your teammate is actually the very ex-vigilante that used to terrorize the city."

"If I remember correctly, the people targeted by the King's actions were almost all corrupt politicians and crooked cops," Logic pointed out, turning his head to look at the vigilante. "And besides, I already had my suspicions."

Janus couldn't help but let out an amused chuckle. "What was it that tipped you off?"

"Honestly, I started growing suspicious during the Prince's first day on the field," the hero shrugged, pushing his holographic glasses up his nose. "He looked way too familiar with fights involving supers to be a newbie. Add in the pseudo he chose, plus the somewhat similar outfit… once the doubts started creeping in, it was relatively easy to connect the dots."

"Roman," the Puppeteer piped up, "I know you guys know him outside of the mask, so we can use his name -all the royal pseudonyms can get real old real fast."

Logic gave the vigilante a long look before nodding, letting out a soft sigh. "I suppose that makes sense, since you all were allies prior to the King's disappearance. I suppose you won't be sharing the reason of that, by the way?"

Janus shook his head. "It isn't my story to tell -I'm a keeper of many secrets, Logic, and I'm not about to go divulge them without a valid reason to. If he wants to tell you, he will. In his own time."

"Normally, I would point out that we cannot be sure that Roman will even be able to tell us, since he's currently going against one of the heroes with most raw power," Logan pointed out, "but I have heard enough stories about the King's power to be fairly optimist about his odds in this fight."

Janus chuckled, nodding in agreement.

"Case in point-" he said, gesturing back towards the square- "it looks like the winner has just become clear."

Just as he finished speaking, Nautilus came skidding on the pavement towards them, bruises and cuts covering his whole body as he struggled to get up again.

"Told you I wouldn't be the one praying for mercy on my knees, hero," the King drawled, his uniform looking barely crumpled by the fight.

"I will never bow to you, villain," Nautilus growled, fighting to keep himself upright.

Roman arched an eyebrow, an infuriatingly amused smirk tugging at his lips. "Are you sure about that? because you look just about to fall over."

"You may have defeated me, but soon the entire world will know the truth!" the hero shot back. "Their beloved Prince, hiding such a rotten secret… how do you think they will react? Every hero will not rest until you and your companions are locked shut behind bars. Your time is coming to an end, King, and I'll make sure to save myself a front-row seat for the day you'll finally be kicked down from your throne of evil."

"A very poetic imagery, I'm sure," the Puppeteer drawled from behind them, gathering everyone's attention on himself, "though I'm afraid you won't be able to reveal jack shit, you pompous asshole."

Nautilus frowned in confusion until he felt a slight tugging at his hand. Eyes widening, he snapped his head down, eyes zeroing on the yellow string wrapped loosely around his wrist.

"Sleep now, and forget," Janus ordered, eyes flashing bright yellow, and down Nautilus went, knocked out cold.

Silence fell, only interrupted by the faint sounds of sirens approaching from afar. After a few seconds, Heart went to open his mouth, hand outstretched towards the King's back, only for the vigilante to suddenly bolt without a single word and disappear into the night.

Janus and Remus exchanged a look, obviously debating something between themselves without using any words.

"Go," Logic called, catching their attention. "We won't tell, we promise."

The two vigilantes looked at the trio, watching as both Storm and Heart nodded in agreement. Then they smiled, saluted, and took off.

"Do you think Ro will come back?" Heart asked worriedly, eyes traveling from the direction the three had taken to the quickly-approaching blue and red lights in the distance.

"He better, or I'll go and find him myself," Storm muttered darkly, biting at his thumb.

"Only time will tell, there is no use in worrying about that now," Logic sighed, just as the first police car drove into the square. "For now, we better come up with a believable story. They'll want to know what exactly caused the square to blow up in the first place."

"Why lie?" Heart asked, giving his friend a small smile, "after all, Nautilus was the one who did it, wasn't he?"

Logic smirked lightly, nodding. " I suppose that is true."

"You know, sometimes I forget just how much of a little shit you can be," Storm commented, tone laced with amusement. "Then you go and pull things like this, and I get reminded all over again."

"Kiddo, language!" Heart gave an exaggerated gasped, eyes twinkling in mischief. "I just don't like lying, you know that."

Logic watched as the two snickering heroes approached the police, shaking his head with a small smile. Tonight might have raised quite a few questions, but he had no doubt the answers would come, eventually.

All in due time, he supposed.

+

(ask to be added to the taglist!)

@virgilmydarkstrangeson @sidesroleplayblog @im-patton @creativity-killed-thekitten @mijako98 @romansleftshoulderpad @really-sleep-deprived-nerd @unlikelynightmareconnoisseur @tigertigertigger @suspicious-sweaters @unring-this-bell @heck-im-lost @m-kai-png @ihateitwhenyourejustvague @logicallycrofters @keithkhoegane @analogical-mess @agatheringofbees @darknightvirgil @minninugget @mydicegotcursed @gattonero17 @demigodbookdragon @itgetzweird08 @melodiread

(asked to be tagged)

@ratherstarryeyed @gr3ml1n-loser @purp-man @meowthefluffy @knightinsoftpastels @sleepy-sphinx

[capnjay21]

The Wind Blows White 2/6

It’s been two years since Killian Jones and Emma Swan managed to escape the clutches of Brooke House, two years of waiting for it all to catch up to them and two years of pretending the cracks in their happy ending don’t show. But when the vision appears to Killian of a young boy unearthing the dagger and the darkness they had long since buried, it’s a race against time to try and stop another innocent from befalling the same fate. If they have the strength to face it.

Sequel to ‘A House is Never Still’.

A/N: Aaaand here is chapter two! Firstly I'd like to give MASSIVE thanks to @hollyethecurious who has been kind enough to make the lovely art for this fic <3 I'm so pleased with it! For those who don’t know, Hollye designed the art that inspired the original fic so that makes this EXTRA cool. 

And secondly I'd like to say thanks so so much to everybody who picked up the first chapter, I'm so thrilled you're ready to hop back on board the spooky train with me. I hope you like this!

AO3 | chapter one

Rating: T Warnings: Mentions of canonical character death and some certified Spooky Business™.

Taglist: @carpedzem​ @optomisticgirl @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @phiralovesloki @hollyethecurious​ @stahlop @peglegsjones @mariakov81 @seasailia @courtorderedcake @jonesfandomfanatic @wyntereyez @marrtinski @thisonesatellite @klynn-stormz @teamhook @lfh1226-linda

If anyone would like on, or off, the taglist, just let me know!

-/-

2. that featureless space

-/-

The ground beneath him was moving. No, it was growling. Rumbling for more, then receding, hurtling forward and then retreating, leaving him a helpless passenger. It was a car. The old Mustang, in fact, he recognised the flowery smell of the vinyl seats that Liam had never been able to scrub out. The car window was a little too high for him to see properly out of, it was just a blur of colour whizzing by, and his hands had been folded neatly in his lap. His legs were small, just barely long enough to touch the bottom of the car, the jagged metal that grumbled underneath him.

This was the car that Liam had died in.

Killian wiped his eyes, groggy. He couldn’t remember getting in this car.

“Where are we going?” he asked the driver. His voice sounded high, and squeaky. And young.

The driver was Liam.

“Nowhere,” Liam said, then changed his mind. “Somewhere. Somewhere better.”

With great effort, Killian turned his neck to see if anyone was in the backseat. They were alone, but a large suitcase sat where a person should be.

“Where’s Dad?” he asked.

Liam kept his eyes on the road. Killian only noticed now because it seemed more deliberate than before.

“Dad isn’t coming.”

For some reason, this was surprising. Killian wanted to ask why, but Liam was shaking his head firmly.

“Go back to sleep, Killian.”

To his amazement, he did.

This time when he woke, he was outside. He knew this because he could feel the soft warmth of the sun on his skin, and nearby the sound of water rushing by drowned out the buzz of insects around him. It was bright, he had to shield his eyes and keep them narrowed until they adjusted, and he could finally take in his surroundings. He was sat on dry rock, a few metres away from the edge of a rushing stream, an everchanging palette of vivid sapphire and frothy pearl, and on the opposite bank a sparse array of thick trees stood swaying gently in the breeze.

On either side of the wide, open current, walls of rock rose up for hundreds of metres, and Killian realised he had been here before.

It was the memory of a memory, perhaps a recollection of something he had been told rather than something he had lived, but everything about this place was familiar, and bright, and achingly, desperately sad.

This was the creek that Liam had died in.

Then he saw the boy.

The boy was crouched down so near to the surface of the water that his gaze had easily skimmed over him the first time, huddled tightly on a rock near the centre of the current with his arm thrust into the water.

“No,” Killian said, before he even realised what was happening.

He stood. At his feet was a hastily rolled up jacket, which must belong to the boy.

The boy who was reaching for the dagger.

“Wait,” he called, desperately.

The boy ignored him, or he did not hear.

“Stop!”

Triumphantly, the boy pulled back with his prize.

In the sparkling sunlight, its shiny edge was unmistakable.

There was the dagger.

Come.

“Put it back,” Killian hollered, his chest hurting from the force of his yell. “Listen to me!”

The boy looked up. Stared him straight in the eye.

“I am,” he said, “I’m listening.”

-/-

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

Killian was sat with his legs folded underneath him on the floor of Elsa’s bedroom, warmly lit by an array of candles across every surface. Dim light streamed in through an open window, casting orange splotches onto the immaculate powder blue carpet. After their discussion with Tink, she had invited him back the following day for a private session with them both, an attempt at a more guided scry, and Killian had jumped at the invitation. Anything that might provide him with more concrete answers.

Emma had gone again to the office of the skip they were after; apparently his credit card had been used in a convenience store near to it the day before. Killian had wanted to go with her, but the lingering invitation from Elsa and Tink, combined with Emma’s emphatic insistence that she wouldn’t need help had left him at something of a loss.

Although he was sure her determination came from the same place that insisted his coming home and finding their kitchen flooded was nothing to be concerned about. She claimed she had just left the tap on, and had been meaning to clean it up before he got home but had fallen asleep before she had the chance.

She was awake when he got home, though. And when he’d called her earlier it had rung through to voicemail. He was concerned – that was easy enough to admit.

By the third time he had probed her about it, she had declared that she’d really prefer it if he didn’t come with her to the office the following day, and had shut down that line of questioning with perhaps more vigour than it required. Killian didn’t know what else to do.

They were supposed to be a team. If she was having trouble, she was supposed to tell him so they could solve it together. He knew she was holding something back, but if she refused to confide in him then he couldn’t exactly pull or pester the truth out of her, and he wouldn’t want to, anyway. Perhaps she was frustrated that she was still having setbacks like these; after her rescue from Brooke House they had been frequent, the nightmares near constant, and her sense of drifting from moment to moment was something they had discussed at great length together, developing coping mechanisms and strategies to help her get past it.

They had been a team. More than anything, Killian just wanted her to be alright. He had just hoped his days of needing to scale Emma’s walls had ended the day she told him she loved him.

Unless she didn’t. Love him anymore, that is.

Something squeezed tightly in his chest.

“At this point,” he cleared his throat, forcing his focus back to the other occupants of Elsa’s bedroom, “I’m ready to try anything.”

Tink was sat perched on the bed in her bare feet, her blonde hair tied up into a haphazard bun as she carefully emptied a large glass jar of water into a white ceramic bowl. The bowl, Killian presumed, he would be scrying out of. Elsa was stood preparing something at her desk on the other side of the room, and Killian could hear the sound of something bubbling. It reminded him distinctly of the living room back in Regina’s house, with the large desks and varied array of vials and candles resembling an incredibly ancient chemistry set, or a set perfect for the potions and brews she liked to assemble.

It had been a while since he’d spoken to Regina; he should make an effort to give her a call. It wasn’t as if she was likely to do the reverse.

Tink eyed him over her task as he fidgeted on the floor. “It would really help if you told us what this dream was about.”

I am. I’m listening.

“It’s – it’s really better if I don’t.” The less they knew about the dagger, the better. He didn’t want anyone else exposed to its evil.

“Ooh, mysterious. Are you predicting a murder? Was some poor, desperate soul murdered before your very eyes?” she grinned. “Was it me?”

“Tink,” Elsa admonished from across the room, “please.”

Tink let out an exaggerated sigh, and sealed the glass bottle once the bowl was full. Carefully, so as not to spill any, she stood and set the bowl down in front of him. The water was clear, and smelled fresh. He couldn’t imagine seeing anything in it other than his own reflection.

“You were right about rainwater being generally more effective,” Tink began, folding her legs as she sat across from him. “Really, anything from nature is supposed to make scrying a little clearer. You’re lucky Elsa was happy to donate this to the cause.” She gestured to the bowl. “It’s water from a natural spring.”

“I collected it a few years ago in Oregon.”

Killian eyed the bowl warily. “Alright. Do I – just –?”

It felt bizarre to try and do with two people watching, in the middle of the afternoon. As if by casting light on the process it somehow took something out of it; getting his mind to that place where he really believed this would work would be a little more difficult, and in his experience, perception was reality when it came to flirting with the otherworldly. Not to mention his brushes with real magic had only ever occurred in the dead of night, in the middle of fall, and Elsa’s bedroom felt too neat, too warm, to be somewhere something close to miraculous could happen.

“Not without this,” Elsa informed him, finally revealing what she had been working on. In her hand she held a steaming mug of – well, he wasn’t exactly sure what, but its scent was distinctly herbal and earthy. Killian had a sneaking suspicion he was going to be made to drink it. “I’ll warn you, this isn’t going to taste good.”

Killian winced. “What’s in it?”

“Bitter grass.”

“It makes dreaming more vivid, or last longer,” Tink added. “I’ve never tried it myself, but apparently it can make scrying… well, more.”

“‘More’?” Killian carefully took the mug from Elsa, peering at it dubiously.

The hot liquid had settled on a murky acid colour and leaves were still floating aimlessly on its surface. It did not look in the least bit appetising.

Tink huffed, as if his attempt to quantify her deliberate vagueness offended her. “I don’t know, like you’re in the front seat rather than clinging to the rear bumper?”

Killian was beginning to question the wisdom in attempting something their so-called expert had purported never to have tried.

“Scrying is a mess,” she continued sharply. “I avoid it for this very reason. It’s like –” Tink hesitated, trying to find the right words. “It’s like walking into a CVS and trying to buy a hunk of plutonium. You’re sort of along the right lines, you’re in a store, and a store is where you buy things, but you’re so far out of your depth that all you can really do is cross your fingers and ask the universe, and hope someone answers back.”

Killian took a tentative sip of the tea, and immediately grimaced as the acrid mixture began to slip down his throat.

“You’re right, this is revolting.”

Elsa smiled sympathetically. “And it’s illegal in Louisiana, so that’s got to be a win for the rebellious teen in you, right?”

He forced himself to drink a little more. “I always preferred sneaking rum.” He paused, contemplating. “Any chance we could add rum to this?”

“Listen to me,” Tink snapped, and his gaze shot back to her. “Scrying is dangerous. You’re effectively setting your mind loose from your body. Do that for too long…”

If he wanted to go deeper, he had to let himself fall.

“And I’ll be stuck in CVS forever?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

Killian thought of the sparkling summer day, of the boy, of another innocent life the dagger wanted to claim. It had already taken Liam, and left its mark on Emma forever.

Consider this him jumping in with both feet.

Fall away.

He finished off the rest of his tea and returned the mug to Elsa.

“Are you sure you still want to do this?” she asked gently.

Killian nodded firmly, and pulled the bowl a little closer towards him.

Elsa laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t go too far. Let us help you back if you need it.”

He had no idea what that meant, but he thanked her all the same. They had already done so much for him.

Tink blew out the last few candles, the curl of smoke rising from them smelling faintly of rosemary; he had known an unlit candle’s purpose for years now in these sorts of rituals – to let energy out. It struck him only then that the very thing they were expecting to let out was him.

Killian turned his attention to the surface of the water, perfectly still in the bowl.

After he leaned closer, he could see the details of his face more clearly in his reflection. The dark lines under his eyes, the barely visible scar on his right cheek from when Regina had flung a pencil at him a little too hard in eighth grade. His eyes didn’t even look blue anymore, in his reflection they looked less somehow, washed, like a faded grey. As he stared, he became aware that something around him had changed – like a noise that had always existed in his periphery had suddenly dropped out, and now he wished he had been paying closer attention to discern what it was. The tea had settled warmly in his chest and he felt light, lighter than air, and tried to focus on that sensation.

Moments ago, he had felt that if he had reached out to either side of him, he would feel Elsa and Tink there. He was not sure he felt that way now.  

His right hand twitched.

It was a foreign, surprising sensation, like someone else had reached through his shoulder all the way to his fingertips and jerked it without his permission. It begged for his attention but he tried not to let his mind wander beyond its purpose, and forced himself to keep looking at the surface of the water.

Or what had once been the surface of the water.

Ripples scattered across its edges, as if a sharp wind were blowing until it folded over itself, oozing, and his chest wanted to fall forward, forward, to topple over until he collapsed and could feel the sharp sting of ice cold water filling up his lungs. His chest felt tight. Hard. Like he had to force every breath through a sheet of glass until it reached him. He thought about Elsa, what Elsa had promised, to help him back if he went too far and he reached for her –

His hand fell through empty air.

The ground beneath him was moving. Growling, rumbling, hurtling forward; was he back in the car? Liam’s Mustang, like he had dreamt last night? Even as he thought it the colours materialised, but the vinyl of the seat felt searing hot beneath him and the cream was so bright, he had to blink his eyes against it. He wanted to turn and look at the driver. He wanted to turn and look at Liam. He would give anything to turn his head and be able to look at Liam one more time and for it to be real.

“Go back to sleep, Killian.”

Show me the boy, he thought fiercely, the boy at the creek with the dagger.

His chest tugged him toward the door of the car as he fumbled with his seatbelt, falling against it as the car started to speed up. With effort, he pulled the handle open and the door swung away from him, his grabbing onto the roof of the car the only thing that stopped him hurtling out of it and into the black.

If he wanted to go deeper, he had to let himself fall.

So, the outside beckoned, fall.

Killian let go.

-/-

“Thank you,” Emma said, her cheeks flushed with glorious delight, “for always knowing exactly what I want before I do.”

Killian blinked. Granny’s Diner smelt like burnt cheese and vanilla cake and Emma’s arms were around his neck. The bus ticket sat on the table beside them.

“I know this part,” he said, feeling dazed. “This is the part where I kiss you.”

The corner of Emma’s lip curled unpleasantly.

“You had to go and ruin it, didn’t you?”

-/-

“I think you should do it.”

“Do what?”

Come back, he breathed.

“Go and live with the Nolan’s.”

“Killian, come on.”

Haunt me.

“I’ll be out after high school. What’s the point?”

Just as he reached for her, Emma dived into the ocean.

Killian – Killian, don’t –!

I love you, he shouted. She didn’t reply.

He jumped in after her.

-/-

“Go back to sleep, Killian.”

Show me the boy.

-/-

Killian gasped as he broke free from the surface of the water, gulping in oxygen like a man starved. His limbs felt numb, only sluggishly responding to his demands as he struggled to stay afloat. His chest was tight, freezing, and as he spluttered he could feel fresh water pushing its way out from his throat. Was he drowning? This felt like what drowning should feel. like Water was everywhere; his nose, his eyes, and though he tried to wipe it away so he could see, he was doing so with a hand that was also soaked and made little difference against his blurring vision.

He had to get out. He had to find shore. Killian kicked his legs into action, pumping them through the black to try and propel him forward, push him toward something; everything around him felt so permeable, so susceptible to the slightest change in thought, and he tried to focus on the feel of the water around him. Water could be good. Water could take him to the creek.

The creek, he insisted, bringing his arms in to give his strokes more momentum, the dagger.

His feet brushed what felt like the murky bottom of the pool, slick with seaweed and soft, and his toes scrabbled for purchase while his arms tried to aid in treading water – and that was when he saw him. A few metres in front, the boy fumbling for the dagger.

“Hey!” he hollered, but the noise was drowned out by the current flooding around him. Water flooded into his open mouth and he choked. “H—hold on!”

The boy was already scampering away, hopping from rock to rock with his prize hidden underneath his shirt. He was calling to someone Killian could not see on the opposite bank.

“Just a minute, Dad!”

Two firm hands reached underneath Killian’s arms and hauled him out of the water. He flopped down onto the bank, coughing and spluttering.

Gasping, shivering, he tried to focus on his would-be saviour.

It was his father.

It was impossible for Brennan Jones to be that tall, not while Killian was a man grown, but that was how he remembered him – broad shoulders, lined features, and an easy sort of smile when he wanted it.

He wasn’t smiling now.

“What have I said about staying in bed?”

Killian’s heart was galloping against his ribcage; he had done something he knew he could not take back, the oil had spilled and poison was beginning to blacken the depths of the ocean. Something white hot and fearful had ignited in his chest, Liam would know what to do, Liam would – Liam would –

“Why can’t you just do as you’re told?”

His father’s arms thrust out in front of him – and although Killian hadn’t been touched, he felt himself flung backwards through the air.

Why can’t you just do as you’re told?

There was nothing but empty space behind him.

He was falling, he was falling, he was falling.

His watch beeped: 2:17am. Right on time.

There was a searing pain in his right hand, but his scream was swallowed by the dark.

-/-

Go back to sleep, Killian.

“Killian!”

He was lying on his back, staring at the intricate pattern of Elsa’s ceiling, and his right hand hurt like a bitch.

“Ah,” he hissed, wincing, instinctively lifting it to try and identify the cause. It was covered with blood. “Ah – the – fuck.”

“Sorry, sorry!” Someone was yelping in response, then something cold and wet was pressed against his hand as he tried to sit up.  “We didn’t know what else to do!”

He felt dizzy. The sight of blood didn’t help, and a wave of nausea surged within him.

“Oh god, he’s gonna – Elsa get the –”

Something plastic and cylindrical was thrust underneath his chin and he promptly vomited into it.

The whole room was spinning. He tried shutting his eyes but it only made it worse, the horizontal slamming into vertical behind his eyelids. Someone was attempting to rub soothing circles on his back and he tried to focus on that, while someone else kept a cold cloth pressed against his bleeding hand. Elsa and Tink. Right. Elsa and Tink. Slowly, so he didn’t aggravate his already deeply upset stomach, he tried to glance at the space around them.

The ceramic bowl of water had been overturned, and a visible wet patch surrounded it. Beside it, a large kitchen knife had been discarded, its sharp edge scarlet with blood that was now dribbling onto the otherwise pristine light blue carpet. His blood, he realised, dazedly drawing the connection between the knife and his bleeding hand.

“Did you – to me –?” he mumbled, wiping his sweaty forehead with his free hand.

“You gave us quite a fright,” Elsa replied. “Nothing we did could bring you out of it and you looked – well. Distressed.” Gingerly, she took the bin away from him and left the room to dispose of it.

“The worst,” he began, then coughed, “worst cup of tea ever.”

“I underestimated you,” Tink growled, as she tied the wet cloths ends around Killian’s palm with a show of force. “You really just jumped right in, huh? This is why I steer clear of this crap. It’s a fucking shitshow. You could have died and then, what, I’m explaining you wanted to stare at visions in a fruit bowl to your pretty girlfriend? No way. No fucking way.”

“Sorry,” he said, because he wasn’t sure what else he could say.

“Don’t be sorry, be smart.”

“Here. Water,” Elsa returned with a glass, and Killian reached for it eagerly. His throat felt like something had crawled in there and died. “Feel any better?”

Killian nodded, and he meant it. He had never been so aware of his own limbs before, of the heaviness of his own arms and legs. It was like he’d been living without gravity and these were his first few moments back on Earth and feeling the weight of his cumbersome form.

Was this how Emma felt, he wondered, when she lingered in that featureless space between?

“So? What did you see?”

Why can’t you just do as you’re told?

Killian tried to clear his throat, but something stuck tightly in it.

In a sea of opalescent and obscure images, that had felt very clear. It didn’t marry up to his memory in the same way the others did; he was certain he did not have any memories of Brennan Jones associated with such a moment, but it was just – it was so vivid.

“I don’t, uh,” he rubbed his right eye tiredly. “I don’t know.”

-/-

In their line of work, there was nothing that irritated Emma more than wasted time. Wasted time meant loss of income, and the unreasonably elusive skip August W. Booth was getting on her last nerve. She had gone to his old office the day before, armed with the information regarding the credit card purchase, only to be turned away at the front desk with the claim the entire company staff were away on a corporate retreat. Her instincts had wanted to call bullshit, but a cursory glance of a few of their social media pages confirmed it. It didn’t matter if she was ninety nine percent certain her bail jumper was hiding out inside the office, if the actual employees weren’t there then she couldn’t exactly magic a reason to be admitted out of thin air.

Annoyingly, it meant they had to put it off for another day. This damn bail jumper was one slippery fucker, and the more time Emma had to waste rounding him up, the more irritated she got. Their time was their own in this profession, which most of the time was an advantage, but every second spent on the same guy was a second she couldn’t spend securing their next pay-check.

Killian had insisted on joining her this time, and she couldn’t think of any good reason for him not to. Her slip up with the tap in the kitchen had thankfully drifted into the near-past and there were no other demands on his time. Not to mention given how tricky this August W. Booth was proving to be, better they put their heads together and get it sorted out, pay-check cashed, as soon as possible.

Emma watched enviously as Killian slid the Chevelle smoothly into park at the side of the road – the old car was never that cooperative with her, spitting like a feral cat as she wrestled with the stick shift. The morning was dim and gloomy, the sky overhead a bruised and leaden grey slathering the streets with scattered showers at unpredictable intervals. Currently only one wiper was working, albeit lazily, succeeding in keeping only the driver’s side of the windshield clear while rain loped down in waves in front of Emma.

Through the passenger side door, she squinted out at the office block, the embossed directory helpfully just a few feet away from where they’d parked. Gepetto’s – 6th Floor.

“Alright,” Emma sighed, drumming her fingers on the passenger door. “The receptionist said by now they should all be back from their… I dunno, business boy-scouting, or whatever. You wait out here, I’ll go in and chat to the office manager, ask if she’s seen any funny business. Really hammer home the whole ‘he’s a criminal’ shtick. Throw out a few ‘harboring a fugitive is a prosecutable offence’, etcetera…” Emma turned to get Killian’s input, but he wasn’t looking at her. His hands were still resting on the bottom of the wheel, and he was staring out of the front windshield.

His eyes held the same vacant look she had been catching him with all morning, and every time she spotted it something inside her twisted unpleasantly. It felt like he went somewhere, and she wasn’t used to Killian checking out into places she couldn’t follow him.

“Hey.” She snapped her fingers next to his ear, startling him. “Paging Killian Jones.”

“What?” He straightened abruptly in his seat. “Oh. Yeah, I’ll QB from down here.” He made a show of peering past and her and toward the office block. It didn’t fool her. “See if he makes a run for it once his cage gets rattled.”

Emma watched him curiously, hoping for any sort of clue, but he didn’t meet her eye. He likely was trying to avoid what they both knew was her superpower, to spot a lie a thousand miles away; and immediately, unbidden, a wave of self-consciousness rose within her. He hadn’t really said anything about the flooding incident – but what if he wanted to? He’d been quiet since yesterday, so it wasn’t unreasonable to assume he had been mulling the whole situation over. It wasn’t paranoia when the logic was sound.

Maybe he was finally getting fed up of cleaning up after her messes.

With effort, she pushed the feeling down.

“You okay today?” Emma asked. “You’ve been spaced out all morning.”

Killian waved a hand, and smiled in a not-all-that-convincing manner. “I’m fine. Really.”

“No blood pacts with the Witches of West Bellevue on your mind?”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Killian replied drily, smiling despite himself as he unconsciously picked at the bandage with his opposite hand. “I wish you wouldn’t call them that.” She knew he was intending to sound reproachful, but there was no heat behind it.

“I wish they wouldn’t send you home bleeding,” she smirked. Killian had come back to their flat last night sporting a rather nasty gash on his right palm – he had insisted it was his own fault, some incident with a bread knife, but Emma had enjoyed teasing him to no end about blood sacrifices and voodoo rituals.

“That was my fault,” Killian said absently, clearly not registering her jest. “And it was an accident.”

Emma arched an eyebrow, wondering which it was: his fault, or an accident.

“Hey.” She laid a hand on his arm to get his full attention, and he finally looked her in the eye. She wasn’t particularly enthused about hashing out the events of the other night, but if there was something genuinely bothering him then she wanted to know about it. “Is there something on your mind?”

Killian’s lips parted, as if debating whether to speak. “It’s… nothing important.” He shrugged, offering her a smile. “Really. I’m just a little too in my own head.”

Emma was far from convinced. “Well, I’m here if you want to talk about anything.”

This time when Killian smiled, he tilted his head and his eyes softened, as if he were looking at her for the first time that day. Even after all the years they had known each other, there was a thrill in being seen so gently. He leaned forward and she met him halfway, their lips meeting in a slow kiss.

After they parted, he let out a contented sigh as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You’re my favourite, you know that, right?”

Emma grinned. “And I promise you’re a close second behind Regina.”

“Wow.”

Emma laughed as she shrugged on her coat. “Alright, time to nail this son of a bitch.” She dropped a final kiss on his cheek before reaching for the door handle. “See you in a bit.”

After stepping out into the downpour, she jogged as quickly as she could to the front door of the office block, lifting her jacket over her head for as much protection from the elements as she could manage, but wasn’t convinced it would do much to abate her looking either washed out or a little drowned by the time she spoke to somebody from Gepetto’s. The receptionist recognised her from the day prior, and after waving in greeting immediately phoned up to the sixth floor to see if anybody was available to speak to her.

There was a bit of negotiating, but before long the office manager for Gepetto’s had come down to meet her and was escorting her back up to the sixth floor. She didn’t want to launch into the reason for her being there before she’d had a chance to look around the office, so to avoid spooking her Emma offered up some general lines of enquiry about the office structure with information she had managed to glean from the company website. Almost flattered by her interest, the office manager was only too keen to rattle off her answers for the duration of the lift ride until the doors finally reopened.

It took only a few steps out of the lift lobby for Emma to stop dead in her tracks – because there, leaning against the desk at the entrance to the office, stood her mark.

Emma felt herself tense, instinctively readying herself to run, but she had to forcefully remind herself that August W. Booth had no reason to know who she was in the slightest, which would make everything a lot easier. He was here, that was what counted, and now she just had to figure out a way to get a pair of cuffs on him.

The office manager had been speaking, and Emma tried to tune back in and pick up where they left off, and as they reached the desk August looked up at the two of them.

And immediately straightened, his eyes widening the moment they landed on her.

Emma schooled her expression into one of nonchalance – but it made no difference. She could spot a skip about to hit the ground running a mile off, and she reached for her handcuffs as subtly as she could manage.

“Emma?” August gaped.

She was momentarily taken aback – what the –?

If possible, August looked more stunned than she felt. “How did you find me?”

His gaze dropped to her side and landed on the handcuffs.

He was moving before she even had a chance to process what was happening.

“Hey!” she barked, immediately sprinting after him. Somebody was yelling something from behind her, and the office around her became a blur of colour and noise as she shot through it, narrowing her focus on the man running in front of her.

She collided heavily with someone she couldn’t duck out of the way of, and had just enough time to distractedly mumble an apology before taking off again, and in a beat she realised where he was heading – the stairwell toward the fire exit. There wasn’t enough time to get out her phone and warn Killian, she just hoped he’d be ready in case she didn’t catch him before he got out of the building.

August wrenched open the door to the stairwell, pulling at a filing cabinet beside it until it crashed into the ground, sending a whoosh of papers and folders scattering out onto the floor. Beside it some office workers had gasped, and Emma yelled at them to jump out of the way as she approached, skipping past documents that might slip her up and leaping over the cabinet to the door.

Her skip was already a flight of stairs down and Emma wasted no time following him.

“Hang on a second!” she demanded, but there was no indication on whether he had heard her. “I just want to talk to you!”

And arrest you, and claim the reward, but why the fuck would you care?

She chased him all the way to the ground floor, where she heard him letting out a string of expletives against the sound of metal rattling in its frame – he was stranded at the exit, unable to get the door open and scrambling for any way out.

Emma slowed her pace as she descended the final flight, trying to get a good look at him – he looked exactly like the photos they had been provided with, except for the shadow of a few days without shaving scratched around his chin. His leather jacket was battered and his hair unkempt, and he was currently grunting with effort as he thrust his shoulder into the door in an attempt to get it open.

“Look, just give it a rest,” Emma growled, “you had to know this was coming. You missed a pretty important court date.”

August paused his efforts, turning to glance at her nervously. “You can’t arrest me.”

“Three counts of property damage, theft and disturbing the peace say otherwise. Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.”

“No, you can’t arrest me. It can’t be you.”

Emma was getting fed up with his bullshit. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

The look August was giving her was pained. “I’m so sorry.”

Then he slammed his fist through the glass protecting the fire alarm.

The stairwell exploded with sound.

Overhead the alarm bell rattled blisteringly loud, August was swearing profusely at his bloodied hand, and the magnetic lock on the door buzzed open. As the man stumbled out of it, the stairwell was flooded with light and the sound of rain rattling against the alleyway outside – but Emma didn’t notice any of that.

From the moment the alarm sounded, a searing pain had blasted through her temples and she cried out; something was rattling, cracking against the casing of her skull and she gasped her way through it, stumbling down onto the ground. She couldn’t see anything, her vision was blinded by spots of white, and it was all she could do to fight for some semblance of control over her motor functions. Everything hurt. Something was stealing the breath from her lungs, and although she knew it couldn’t be real, she felt her fingertips curling into damp soil underneath her.

I don’t know where I am.

Emma could feel hot tears rolling down her cheek as she tried to think of anything except how much her head was throbbing, the alarm blaring across her senses as if it had come from inside her. It was too much. It was all too much.

Killian?

I don’t know where I am.

I thought –

I thought I heard your voice.

It was the cold that she remembered most about Brooke House. That terrible, awful absence of warmth, that numbness, that sense that her limbs were not truly moving because she could no longer feel them. It was ice, it was loss, it was knowing the world she knew was gone forever even though just seconds earlier it had swirled in a storm of obsidian light, and Killian –

Killian had wanted to save her.

And she had told him not to.

Killian – Killian, don’t – !

The sky was full of birds.

Her parents left her on the side of the road on a crisp autumn morning, while the sky was alive with birdsong.

Emma –

There was too much sound, too much light; she couldn’t see. Something hurt. It was her. Around her the forest breathed slowly, in, and out, and the old wood of the house creaked unheard. It had nothing else to show her. She had read all the books. She had written on all the walls. She pleaded for the chance to walk amongst the wood, to feel the crunch of delicate, copper leaves underfoot and the patter of rain on her skin.

She waited for him to come home.

The sky was full of birds.

“Emma!”

I thought I heard your voice.

-/-

It was 2:17am.

Robert should have been home hours ago, and Belle couldn’t sleep for worry.

He had gone to that wretched house, she knew it. Nothing else had been able to impress upon his waking mind for weeks, he was consumed by whatever he had found in there and left Belle to mind their livelihood alone. Stood in the centre of the shop floor, the room lit in an orange glow drifting through the blinds in strips, it somehow felt worse than the odd looks the townsfolk had been giving her when they came in to sell their wares, or find something for someone else.

The pawnshop had always been Robert’s, not hers. It was his name on the door, Gold. It didn’t matter that she’d taken his name when they married – everyone in Storybrooke still thought of her as ‘that funny Belle French’. She had always been something of an outlier in the realm of small-town opinion; but then, that was something she and her husband had always shared.

Brooke House was something he had pointedly kept from her.

He refused to take her there. He refused to discuss his work there. Every day he departed with trinkets and materials and vials of vividly coloured liquids of which she hadn’t a clue of the contents. Something powerful had captured his attention so desperately within its walls, something that made him see right through her.

And tonight – tonight, he had practically prowled about the shop until he had finally departed out into the night.

You’ll see, he had told her. You’ll see.

Well, she was tired of waiting.

She wanted her husband back.

She stalked into the backroom to retrieve her coat and changed out of her heels and into something sturdier, boots more suited to clambering through woodland than minding the pawn shop.

It was just as she was shrugging on her coat that she heard the tinkling of the bell over the front door, and her heart leapt hopefully.

“I was just coming to –”

She cut herself off once she saw it was not her husband who had entered, and shielded her disappointment in an expression of reproach.

“It’s the middle of the night,” she pointed out sharply. “We’re closed.”

The intruder stood their ground.

“It won’t do any good,” they said, quietly. “Your husband isn’t coming back.”

Belle stopped dead in her tracks.

“But I think you already know that.”

-/-

It was a migraine.

Just a migraine.

All the symptoms were there; white spots, sensitivity to light and sound, nausea – a rapid onset migraine. Their skip had gotten away, and when Killian had come looking for her amongst all the chaos August left behind, he had found her slumped at the bottom of the fire escape and had immediately taken her home. As it always did, time produced the most rational of explanations, even if Emma still had no idea how August W Booth had known who she was. The most logical reason was that somehow he had gotten in touch with the agency, or knew someone who had been able to tell him the name of the bail bondsperson who had been assigned to his case.

She had spent the afternoon recovering back in their flat, the blinds drawn and the bedroom door closed while Killian worked silently in the sitting room on their next case, and by the evening she felt back to her old self again. It had still made it difficult to resist Killian sitting her down and pleading with her to come and see the Bellevue coven at the weekend, to meet the Elsa he had told her so much about; if for no other reason than the home remedies that members of that community swore by when it came to migraines or insomnia, frequent ailments that kept catching Emma off guard.

Emma had no interest in ingratiating herself with the Bellevue coven, no matter how often he spoke of its charming members or how much he felt it might help her to connect with others who might have experiences with the otherworldly comparable to their brush with Brooke House. She had made it clear from the start; she didn’t believe a single soul could speak to what she had been through, and she was not interested in finding out.

This will not define me, she had said, the day they had ridden themselves of the dagger for good.

She wanted to believe that. She wanted to look forward. Minor setbacks aside, she still didn’t feel sitting around with a group of born-again self-ascribed ‘witches’ talking about how grand and mysterious the universe was would do anything for her focusing on her real life. It was this life she wanted to contemplate, not the one before, or the hell that awaited them after.

Besides, she knew what hell was. Hell was nothing. Barren, a void the soul was left to wander within.

Still, she could sense how important it was to Killian that she make this effort, and after all the considerate care he had given her over the last week – the appeal, the flood, the rescue after her migraine – he deserved her giving it a shot. Apparently they were having some sort of midsummer celebration anyway, and the evening didn’t have to amount to anything more than a fancy garden party. Emma preferred the idea of facing this part of Killian’s life without having to commit to making it part of hers too.

There were still significant drawbacks, though.

“You didn’t tell me there was a dress code,” she grumbled.

After arriving, they had been directed to walk around the side of Elsa’s house through a pathway of tall, sweeping archways plaited with ivy and lavender, leaving the path with a distinctly herbal and earthy scent. It reminded her of Regina’s garden. The evening was balmy and gentle, the setting sun painting the sky in broad, orange strokes, and the mellow flutter of a flute or clarinet could be heard drifting from the clearing ahead of them. Emma could already taste woodsmoke in the back of her throat.

Killian had kept her hand folded tightly in his, as if he were afraid if he let go she would turn around and go home. She wasn’t sure how to reassure him, since she wasn’t entirely convinced she wouldn’t do it herself.

“There’s not a dress code,” Killian frowned. “At least not one they told me about.”

“You’re wearing it!” she pointed out accusatorily.

In keeping with the warmer temperature, Emma had opted for a simple pair of denim shorts and boots, with a dark green blouse she had thought would look suitably on theme for an event clearly thrilled about nature. Killian, on the other hand, looked far smarter in a crisp white shirt and a tan pair of chinos. White, she was now realising as they emerged into the main event, was clearly the theme.

A large bonfire had been stacked in the centre of the clearing and had been lit from the bottom, so currently the flame was only licking at the edges of the wood lying nearest its centre, but she could imagine as the night wore on it would grow significantly in size. There were around thirty, maybe forty guests scattered around, speaking jovially to one another, some lingering near a few fold-up tables laden with a wide array of food – that, at least, hadn’t been an exaggeration on Killian’s part. Just at a glance she could spot trays of roast beef, stuffed bell peppers, smoked salmon and an entire glass bowl filled with strawberries.

It was like walking into a garden of plenty, alive with wildflowers and the scent of freshly baked bread, while a small wind band played towards one edge of the clearing.

Most of the women were dressed in white or wearing light floral patterns, and every man she could see was sporting an identical white shirt to Killian’s. He fit right in – and to her chagrin she could now see how her attempt to slip into the background was now setting her apart.  

“It’s not a dress code,” Killian waved her off, “it’s nothing like that.”

Emma spread her free hand across the clearing in a pointed sweep.

Killian had the good grace to look a little sheepish. “Maybe it’s a little like that. But me – this – it’s a complete accident, I swear.”

He looked so eager to reassure her that she couldn’t help but laugh. There was something so light about his countenance tonight, something that buoyed her along without even trying – the entire drive there he had barely been able to contain whatever energy he had been carrying, drumming his fingers restlessly on the wheel of the Chevelle. She couldn’t tell if it was excitement about finally bringing her along to one of these things, or if he was just enthusiastic about getting out of the city, but either way she couldn’t really remember a time he had been this animated about an evening out. It was hard to find fault in that kind of simple delight. It made her feel like they were teenagers again.

“Fine, whatever,” she said, but she was grinning. “You promised me food.”

“Right, definitely,” he smiled back. “But for fear of appearing too obvious so soon after we’ve arrived, how about we start with a drink?”

“Sure.”

Her every assent seemed to have the instantaneous effect of brightening his mood even further. “Anna’s been going on about her punch for weeks – oh, Anna, I’ll make sure I introduce you –”

He tugged at their joined hands, but after a split-second Emma resisted.

“Why don’t you go and grab some for us and I’m just gonna… take it all in.” She looked around the garden. “Give me a sec to get my bearings.”

Killian didn’t question her, just squeezed her hand before letting go and promised to be back in a few moments.

She wasn’t sure what it was, but there was a lot of sensory information to process. Her life with Killian was so insular, they didn’t spend a lot of time at big events – they both preferred places they could blend into the background. Attending a gathering of this size was probably something she hadn’t done since the last time she was in Storybrooke – something in her gut twinged at the thought. David and Mary Margaret would have loved a celebration like this, something like the Miner’s Day celebration the town used to throw every November. Good food, warm feelings; it was everything she and Killian used to good-naturedly mock when they were teenagers.

Tonight, while her partner’s enthusiasm was sweet, it was still a little jarring; especially when she remembered exactly what this community was, and it wasn’t just small-town eccentricities.

This was a coven, she had to keep reminding herself. Practitioners. Like Regina.

At least they didn’t appear to be making any sacrifices on that bonfire.

“Hey, Killian!” Emma watched as a petite blonde woman called Killian over to the group she was standing with, and he pivoted in their direction on his way to the refreshment table. She was smirking, and her hair was piled up messily on the top of her head. “Help us out, we need a tie-break.”

Emma couldn’t hear what she said after that, but watched as one of the men clapped him on the back, another one shaking his hand enthusiastically. He never really mentioned having friends in the Bellevue coven, but she supposed he must do – he had been going every week for over two months. In the sea of white among the grass, he all but disappeared into the crowd.

Watching him speak to them, she realised it really did remind her of when they were teenagers. Specifically, of when she had been sitting on the floor of Brooke House, her knees curled up to her chest as he traced a pentagram into the floorboards in thick black marker. Behind them their friends had bickered over the spirit board, and as the cold settled in she had watched Killian gently reaching for something beyond all their understanding.

The woman said something quiet and Killian laughed, a hearty and warm sound, but the sick feeling in Emma’s stomach only deepened. He fit here. Somewhere he could keep reaching.

“You must be Emma.”

Emma turned, and saw she was being approached by a taller woman, her bright blonde hair tied into a plait which hung over her right shoulder. Like everyone else, she was dressed all in white, in a long, light gown that trailed down to her feet.

“Uh, yeah,” Emma replied; if Killian had told them she was coming, her vivid green blouse likely gave her away. “Hi.”

“I’m Elsa,” the woman said, holding out a dainty hand for her to shake. Her palm was smooth, her skin so light it was almost white.

“Right,” Emma said, understanding dawning. “So this is your place?” Elsa nodded. “Great to meet you. This all seems… it looks great.”

Elsa smiled demurely. “We’re just lucky the weather held.”

Given Seattle’s propensity for continually being soaking wet, Emma couldn’t help but agree. “Pretty much.”

Killian was still standing with the other group, and while Emma could see him attempting to pivot away from them, apparently whatever animated discussion they were having kept drawing him in.

“You know, Killian has told me a little about you.”

Her hackles immediately rose. “Oh yeah?”

“He thinks of you all the time,” she continued. “I can tell he looks for you in the work we do here.”

Without her really noticing, the flutes had drifted into a different song, something that floated drowsily across the still air. It felt like she should be relaxed, like every variable had been carefully constructed to draw out the hazy, heady sensation of early summer, but Emma just couldn’t feel herself falling into it like she should.

Still, she didn’t want to disturb the tranquil atmosphere by getting too defensive with someone Killian often spoke highly of.

Instead, the corner of her mouth tugged upwards. “And what work is that?”

To her credit, Elsa laughed. They both knew there was little point in being coy.

“I actually think you and I are a lot alike,” the other woman mused, a cheerful twinkle in her eye.

Alright, she’d bite. “How d’you figure?”

Elsa took a long, slow breath, averting her eyes to the rest of the gathering. A man and a woman standing near the fledgling bonfire had begun swaying to the music.

“Putting up walls, it works to keep the bad things out. And keeping everything contained inside, all those… messy, confusing instincts – that stops us from hurting others.”

Nobody can control this door except you, Emma.

“But it also closes us off to them completely.”

Emma felt herself beginning to bristle; she wasn’t sure she would appreciate a lecture about Killian Jones from somebody who had known him all of five minutes. Not to mention she was growing uneasy with the amount that Killian had perhaps chosen to confide in a complete stranger.

“What exactly has he been saying about me?”

“Almost nothing,” Elsa was quick to assure her, but it was the almost that stuck. “Which I think is quite telling in itself.”

Emma said nothing.

“Answer me this – why do you think Killian chooses to come here?”

She let out a huff of frustration. Where the hell was Killian with that drink?

“I don’t know, just gotta scratch that witchy itch?”

Elsa hummed indulgently, but she was undeterred by Emma’s attitude. “I’ve asked him myself, but I wasn’t convinced by his answer. I’m not sure he even knows.” After a beat, she clasped her hands in front of her. “But I think he comes to us because he can’t talk to you. And believe me, we’re a poor substitute.”

“He can talk to me,” Emma replied indignantly.

Elsa met her gaze, hard. “About everything?”

This will not define me.

They were supposed to be the same. Two complementary halves of the same brave, desperate fighter. Kids who had been lost together, who had been found, together. That was the promise they’d made before Brooke House, and the one they had fervently renewed in the wake of it.

There weren’t supposed to be things they could not talk about. Quiet, desperate things they could not say.

So good of you to finally come and see me.

She became distantly aware that she hadn’t said anything for a few prolonged seconds, and she turned away from the sharpness of Elsa’s gaze.

“I’m tired of letting the past control us.”

“The past is who we are,” Elsa said simply. “Don’t you think he deserves to find meaning in whatever he has experienced?”

Emma folded her arms. Meaning. Was that what he was supposed to find here?

“That’s easy,” she muttered. “There’s no meaning in any of it. The only thing I know for certain is that darkness doesn’t discriminate.”

It was born with you, it died with you, and sometimes, in the middle, it liked to remind you that it was there.

Elsa murmured her agreement. “It does not.”

“There we are!” Killian’s voice was loud and cheerful as he sprung up beside them, holding two glasses of a vivid pink liquid. “Sorry for the delay, Tink was just – well, she’s a royal pain in my arse, that’s all you need to know.”

He held out one of the glasses to her and Emma took it gingerly. It tasted like something citrusy. The sudden change in atmosphere left her feeling a little off-balance.

“I see you met Elsa – the place looks fantastic, by the way.”

Elsa bowed her head in pleasure.

“I’m glad you could make it. How’s your hand?”

“Oh,” Killian’s cheerful visage faded for just a moment as his gaze dropped to his bandaged palm, “it’s fine. Barely even feel it.”

Once again, Emma was struck by the idea that there was more to that story than he had told her.

“I better go do the rounds. But Emma – if you ever want to talk, I want you to know this is a safe space. For anyone.”

Something warm burned beneath her collar as she felt Killian turn his eyes on her. Elsa seemed to be expecting some kind of acknowledgement of her offer, so Emma cleared her throat.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Mercifully, after that Elsa left them.

“What was that about?” Killian asked curiously.

Emma took a large gulp of the punch. “I think she was trying to read my mind.”

Killian laughed.

“She doesn’t read minds.”

“Or cast a spell on me.”

“Don’t be daft,” he snorted, before slinging his free arm around her waist. “Did you want food?”

Emma sighed heavily. “Oh, God. Please.”

This was going to be awful.

-/-

This is what happened: it was not, in fact, awful.

It was this: the food was great, the company wasn’t bad, and Killian was alive with good humour and enthusiasm, carrying her nimbly from moment to moment.

It was this: finding herself in thoughtful conversations with other guests and forgetting momentarily that Killian was not even with her, on the occasions she found herself without him.

It was this: listening contentedly as Elsa caught the attention of the crowd, recounting fond memories of the solstice from her childhood in Denmark, and reciting the great tale of the battle between the Oak King of daylight and the Holly King of night. During Litha, on the day of the summer solstice, the Holly King would win, from then on claiming every day until Yule and making each darker than the last. It was a fanciful thing, but its whimsy somehow fit exactly right into the festivities of the Bellevue coven; and surprisingly, Emma did not mind.

It was this: the bonfire catching with a glorious roar, sparks shooting up into the midnight blue sky as the night grew darker, and allowing Killian to tug her into its glow and twirl her around to the lolling beat of the music.  

And it was this: allowing herself to forget, for a single second, that there was anything at all in the world to fear.

And then she saw the scaled man.

He was standing at the entrance to the garden, by the ivy archways, his entire figure shrouded in darkness. She couldn’t make out his features, but the nasty curve of his mouth and the basket of spun gold twine at his feet gave him away. Something in Emma’s chest lurched, she wanted to throw up. She reached for Killian but Killian was not at her side, Killian was talking to Elsa, and maybe it was that, or maybe it was the cold, hard longing that had settled in her chest ever since she had called David, or maybe it was the soft buzz of alcohol running through her, but she was caught by a wave of courage she had never before experienced.

The scaled man beckoned, and she followed with purpose.

He raised a hand toward her, she could feel the brittle and knurled edges of his fingernails against her cheek even twenty paces away, and she left the comfort of the fire behind her and began her walk into the black.

She would tell him. She would tell him no, he could not have her.

She wanted to be in the light.

And she would tell him so.

Except as she got closer, she realised it was not him at all, and she could not understand how she had ever thought it was. She balked, trudging through the blur of her recent memories, but no – when she had noticed him, when she had stood by the fire, it hadn’t been the scaled man at all, but a normal person. The state of it being him, and not being him existed simultaneously, and Emma shook her head to try and regain her focus.

Because the man standing at the edge of the garden was August W Booth.

“Did you see him?”

It took Emma a few moments to realise August was speaking to her.

Her lips parted. “Did I see… who?”

August let a breath of dubious laughter, shaking his head. “Yeah, okay.”

Emma was still struggling to marry up the two scenarios in her mind – she was at the Litha celebration with the coven from Bellevue, and August W Booth was standing in front of her.

“Look,” he continued, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I thought I’d come and find you before you had a chance to find me again. You’re very good at what you do, Emma.”

A thousand questions flashed across her mind, too quickly for her to count. What was he doing here? How did he find her? What did he want?

“How do you know my name?”

That one, though, had been weighing on her mind for longer. August hesitated, glancing furtively over his shoulder, then peering past Emma out toward the bonfire. Whatever he saw did not seem to appease him.

“Not here,” he said quietly. “Don’t you feel it?” Despite the warmth of the evening, Emma shivered.

“No,” she said, although she was certain she did.

“You can find me at this address,” August continued, pulling a business card from his pocket and holding it out to her. Without thinking, she took it. “And, yeah, you can come and arrest me if you like, but I think you know that if you do you won’t get what you want.”

Emma eyed him curiously. “And what’s that?”

The corner of August’s mouth curled upwards, and his dark eyes glittered in the distant firelight; the world had granted him a secret, and he was thrilled to be its keeper.

“The truth,” he said. “The truth we both know.”

He nodded behind her. When Emma turned, she could see Killian standing motionless by the fire, staring straight at them – he looked puzzled, as if he were trying to make out who she was talking to. She was certain that if he knew he would’ve already stormed over there.

“Bring your court jester, if you like,” August continued brightly, before brushing his eyes across the rest of the clearing. The dancing, the music, the fire. “If you can tear him away.”

Emma glanced over her shoulder again to look at Killian, but he wasn’t watching them anymore. He was staring into the centre of the flames with that same blank, vacant look she had seen for days.

When she turned back August had slipped away.

She stared at the business card in her hands.

The truth, he had said. Which truth was that?

The sky had turned black, and the breath of the wind through the trees was stirring something strong, but uneasy, inside of her; the air tingled with woodsmoke and possibility, and Emma was ready.

[flightfoot]

Let It Be Enough To Reach The Truth That Lies Ch.1

Thanks to my betas, @miabrown007, @khanofallorcs, and Marby!

AO3

-------

Well, so much for THAT test.

He’d found a Holder for the Ladybug Miraculous quickly. That girl from the bakery would do nicely.

The Black Cat was proving trickier.

Apparently, an old man on the ground, straining to reach his cane wasn’t even worth stopping for, much less helping. Granted, he didn’t see any kids around; it was just random adults. Which was weird since he was right outside Collège Françoise Dupont and he was pretty sure Bakery Girl was running here to her class.

Though, she seemed like she was late… maybe he should’ve waited until lunch period to try the test. Most of the students were probably inside by now.

With a sigh, he got up and trudged off. Hopefully whoever held the Butterfly Miraculous now would wait just a little longer before activating it.

He didn’t notice the small box he had left behind.

------

Adrien sighed as he sank into the car seat. 

Of course Nathalie and Gorilla caught him. His father probably hadn’t even noticed he was gone, but those two? They actually looked after him. They’d notice — especially Gorilla.

Though he had a feeling Gorilla hadn’t been the one to draw attention to him being gone. His job might be to protect Adrien, but well… even he seemed to realize that the lockdown his father had put him under wasn’t so much ‘protecting’ him as ‘stifling’ him.

At least, that was what he thought from Gorilla’s facial expression, body language, and him very conspicuously going to the bathroom for an extended period of time right about when Adrien would need to leave in order to run to school.

Unfortunately, Nathalie wasn’t so lenient.

He played around with the box he’d scooped up as he ran to school. He’d intended to bring it to the lost and found (assuming a student or faculty member lost it, judging by its location), but it looked like he wouldn’t get the chance.

Maybe she’d return it for him?

“Hey, Nathalie, I know you probably won’t let me head back there but… could you at least make sure this gets to the school? I think someone left it behind and I wouldn’t want them to not get it back because of me.”

She was silent for a minute. He didn’t even think she heard him at first.

Finally, she let out a deep breath and stuck her hand back. “Very well. Give it to me.”

She brought it up in front of her where she could see it. 

And choked and spluttered.

“This- how did you- where did you get this?!”

Adrien blinked, surprised. Why would just a small box — albeit a very ornate one — garner such a strong reaction? “I found it on the ground just outside the school.”

She turned halfway around in her seat, her face deadly serious. “Adrien. Do you remember anyone around? Anyone at all?”

“I- I mean, there were some random people, but I don’t-”

“Adrien. This is important. Think.” 

He closed his eyes, concentrating hard.

But-

“Sorry, Nathalie. I don’t remember. I wasn’t paying attention to that.”

She stared at him a moment, searching his face, then nodded. “Very well. They may have left already in any case.”

“They who?”

She ignored him.

“Nathalie? What’s up with that box?”

She pulled out her phone. “Mr. Agreste? I’ve got something you need to see.”

----

She refused to acknowledge him for the rest of the car ride.

He stopped trying after the third attempt. Clearly, he wasn’t going to make any headway like this.

It was like talking to his father; once he made a decision nothing Adrien said or did would sway him.

When they entered the house, Nathalie headed straight for his father’s study. He tried to tag along but-

“Adrien. I must speak to your father privately.”

He frowned. “Is this about the box?”

She just turned around, closing the door behind her.

With a sigh he walked to his room, depositing his school bag on the floor before making a flying leap onto his bed, burying his head in his pillow.

What was Nathalie hiding?

Why was that random box so important?

And why couldn’t he go to school?

He’d always had a very… constrained social circle, limited to Chloé, and occasionally Félix, whenever he happened to visit. It could get lonely sometimes and he really wanted to spend time with more kids his own age, but he’d at least always had them, plus his mother.

A deep ache filled his stomach. She’d only been gone a couple months, but it felt both like no time had passed at all, and like an eternity.

And when she passed away, so it seemed had his father.

He’d ordered a full lockdown, not allowing Adrien to see ANYONE but Nathalie, Gorilla, and himself. Not that that meant much. He seemed to live in his study now.

Adrien had been trying to give his father space.

But… while his father had lost his wife... he’d lost his mother.

And he still needed people. 

He couldn’t stay locked up in this house forever, slowly going insane with only his spiraling thoughts and memories to keep him company.

*rumble*

What was that?

He ran out the front door, expecting to see… he didn’t know.

But definitely not what was actually there.

A giant stone monster?

What the hell?! 

Could this day get any stranger?

The police shot at the monster, which seemed like a pretty ineffectual choice to Adrien. If it was made of stone like it looked, that wouldn’t do much more than annoy him.

It glowed, growing even bigger.

Well.

So much for that.

Rushing back inside, he turned on the TV. 

A surge of excitement ran through him as he listened to the newscaster. 

A supervillain? Here in Paris?

Maybe it wasn’t a good thing. Wasn’t something to hope for. That supervillain was causing a lot of damage, and judging by the police chief’s broken arm, had already hurt people.

But Adrien’d grown up on tales of superheroes and supervillains, of good versus evil, of epic battles and the triumph of the best of human nature.

He may have practiced some superhero moves a few times. His climbing wall was great for perfecting the landings.

Of course, not all superhero tropes were created equal. While he liked the regular human superheroes showing how even ordinary (well, for certain values of ‘ordinary’) people could fight against the most extraordinary foes, he loved seeing people who had superpowers intrinsically fight for what was right as well, his favorite superheroes weren’t even usually called ’superheroes’.

When he was a couple years younger and flicking through TV channels, he’d stumbled across a show in a style he hadn’t seen before, but had grown quite familiar with since.

A pigtailed teen girl struggling against a supervillain, not knowing what to do, thinking all hope was lost and she’d failed-!

Until a rose embedded itself at her feet.

A mysterious dashing stranger dressed in black giving her the words of encouragement that she couldn’t find for herself.

He continued watching, later discovering that the show was named after the titular heroine Sailor Moon. 

Tuxedo Mask — at least, while transformed — remained his favorite element of the show, the sort of hero he secretly wished he could be.

Though with a cooler transformation sequence. Tuxedo Mask’s was pretty boring. The Sailor Scouts were far more interesting to watch.

He may have made up his own transformation sequence for Tuxedo Mask, practicing it a few times.

A few hundred times.

With what had happened in- in the past few months, he’d stopped watching it.

Stopped daydreaming.

But now it all came rushing back.

He jumped up, about to race out again-

And paused. 

What exactly could he DO here? 

He didn’t have superpowers, and his attempt at karate…

Well. There was a reason he’d dropped the class after a few sessions. 

Right now he wished he’d kept at it. Fencing didn’t seem like it’d be that useful here.

Oh who was he kidding, even KARATE wouldn’t do much. The police had already tried firing at the monster and that only made it stronger.

He’d go and follow it, see what might happen — hey maybe he could still help from the sidelines, and who knew? Maybe a superhero would show up to help! — but somehow he doubted Gorilla would let him.

Look the other way so he could go to school? Sure.

Look the other way so he could follow a dangerous, unknown supervillain? Kiiiiinda went against his entire job.

Though, that didn’t stop him from feeling a pang of jealousy when he saw a girl around his age on TV, following the supervillain on her bike. Absurdly dangerous, most definitely, but he’d change places with her in a heartbeat.

Unfortunately, all he could do was watch.

A superhero DID show up a short time later. There wasn’t much info on her — the only recording was from that girl on the bike from before, and she didn’t catch the full fight — but he thought she was pretty cool from what he saw. A bit camera shy, though.

He understood that sort of thing. He’d been pretty anxious whenever the press gathered around when he was younger and less experienced.

Not so much anymore, he was used to it now, even enjoyed it at times, but for someone not used to the attention? It helped having someone there with you for reassurance and guidance.

For him, that had been his mom. 

But this girl didn’t look like she HAD anyone.

Adrien flicked through the news channels, trying to devour any info on her, the supervillain, all of this, that he could.

And then-!

“A new wave of panic is sweeping across the capital as dozens of people are mysteriously transformed into stone monsters”

Well.

That wasn’t good.

Ladybug had managed to take down one supervillain by herself (who was apparently a kid named Ivan who didn’t even remember it?) but that many? 

With no backup?

The supervillain had grabbed her during the fight. It’d been part of her plan… but with no backup, she couldn’t afford to make any mistakes, and that could easily have gone wrong.

That was a lot of pressure to put anyone under, especially a kid who looked no older than himself.

Maybe staying up until midnight, browsing online forums, speculating about Ladybug, the supervillain, and the rock monster clone army hadn’t been his best plan.

Going to bed early might not have made a difference, though, he was too hyped up.

Still, even exhausted, he was determined to give escaping to school another shot…

...Aaaand was quickly shot down. Turned out Gorilla wasn’t going to let him run out there when people were turning into frozen stone monsters. Who knew?

He contemplated trying to turn his bedsheets into a makeshift rope (he’d seen it in several movies and TV shows, it had to work, right?), but eventually scrapped the idea. He may have been climbing the walls of his room, but he wasn’t THAT desperate. Yet.

The superhero Ladybug returned, but her confidence seemed pretty shaken. She stuttered and fidgeted in front of the camera a lot and seemed to wilt under some particularly harsh statements by the police chief.

Which - seriously dude? She was TRYING!

But even as unsure as she seemed, she persevered. When the giant butterfly head man, Hawkmoth, tried to blame her for causing the damage to the city, she snapped. She was NOT taking that crap.

Adrien may have jumped up and down and cheered a few times during her subsequent speech, grinning like an idiot. She was AWESOME! And that Lucky Charm thing? Inspired! He wished he knew more of how that power worked. Did she make the plan and then summon the object? That would make sense but from her look of confusion after summoning it, that didn’t seem quite right.

Sitting back he sighed. He really, REALLY wished he could be there with her.

A door opened behind him.

He turned his head.

And did a double-take.

His FATHER?! Actually coming to speak to him UNPROMPTED?!

That hadn’t happened since-!

...Actually he couldn’t remember the last time that happened. It only ever seemed to coincide with him wanting something from Adrien or chastising him for something or other.

Oh no.

He- he couldn’t be that mad about him running to school yesterday right?

Or- or maybe this was about the box? There was something unusual about it, maybe he just wanted to know more about it? Or tell him what was so important about it?

Probably not that last one.

A hand rested on his shoulder. 

“Adrien, there’s something I need to show you.”

-----

His father had a secret passage by his mother’s portrait.

WHAT.

Seriously, when had he had THAT installed?! Was that just part of the house and he’d altered it to work via pressing part of the painting?!

...Were there more?

He’d scoured the house when he was younger, searching for the cool secret passages that all mansions seemed to have in the movies he watched and books he read. Only to come to the depressing conclusion that that was NOT, in fact, an intrinsic quality of mansions.

Might have to rethink that now.

He fidgeted as they descended in the secret elevator (he was still not over that) into some large, underground chamber.

...Okay, he REALLY thought he would’ve noticed this place being excavated, it had to have already been here.

Superheroes, supervillains, secret passages, hidden chambers… he was beginning to think he was dreaming. Or maybe trapped in a comic book.

The elevator came to a halt. 

Lights slowly came on as they walked down a long suspended hallway.

At the end? A nature area with grass and bushes, some sort of pod among them, a giant window looming over everything.

Was… was his father part of a secret underground cult?!

Was Adrien supposed to be indoctrinated in as its newest member against his will?

Or was he led here as a human sacrifice?!

Normally he’d calm himself thinking that this was real life and not like, a comic or movie — but considering everything that’d happened in the last twenty-four hours (heck, in the last twenty-four MINUTES), that wasn’t much of a reassurance.

His father turned around as his own steps slowed. “Keep up, my son. I don’t have all day.”

With a shaky breath he willed his feet to move.

It- it probably wasn’t a secret underground death cult.

There’d be more people around, right? Hooded figures in dark cloaks?

Just his father (and maybe Nathalie?) wouldn’t make for much of a cult.

Yeah! So… so there must be a perfectly normal, reasonable explanation for all of this. He didn’t have the slightest idea what that could be, but he was sure it existed!

They came to a stop in front of the pod.

...it looked entirely too much like a coffin.

He’s not using me as a human sacrifice, he’s not using me as a human sacrifice, HE’S NOT USING ME AS A HUMAN SACRIFICE-

“When I- when I told you that your mother passed away… I may not have been entirely truthful.”

Wh-what?!

But that meant-!

“She’s alive?!”

His father simply moved forwards and pressed a button on the pod.

The cover opened.

Adrien forgot how to breathe.

He hadn’t seen her for two months.

Hadn’t expected to see her ever again outside of portraits, photos, and films.

And yet, here she was.

But she wasn’t moving. No medical equipment was attached to her either.

He tore his gaze away from her. He needed to know. To read his father’s expression and know he wasn’t lying. “She’s ALIVE, right?!”

Father gave a slow nod. “She’s in a magical coma… but she isn’t dead.”

...Magical?

“How…?”

Father stared forwards, lost in thought.

A moment later he sighed. “She used a magical artifact she shouldn’t have, did something she should not have done… and paid the price for it.”

Turning around, his father turned his attention back to Adrien. “You gave me half of the cure. With your help we can acquire the other half and save her.”

Gave him half?

The box!

“Was that why Nathalie was so insistent on taking that box? What was it?”

“It contained a powerful magical artifact known as a ‘Miraculous’.”

Adrien frowned. He’d heard that term before. “That’s the thing the evil butterfly man wants, right?”

Father scowled. “She should’ve just handed it over. That pesky little girl doesn’t know what she’s doing!”

Something about that — his tone, his body language, his words — caused Adrien to take a step back.

“Father?” he asked cautiously. “What do you mean? How would that help you? What does Hawkmoth wanting Ladybug’s Miraculous have to do with anything?”

Adrien had a bad feeling about this.

In answer, his father took off his candy cane-striped tie, revealing the purple jewel underneath.

“Nooroo, Dark Wings Rise!”

A purple light flashed over him.

Leaving a man in a silver helmet and purple coat, a butterfly shaped jewel on his chest.

WHAT?!

Wildly, Adrien’s mind cast back through the extraordinary things he’d seen in the last few minutes, the secret passages, the underground chamber, his mom in a coma; all kept secret from the world.

All being recast in light of this new information.

They weren’t signs his father was part of a cult.

The secret passage, the underground chamber — both part of a secret evil lair.

And his mother being in a coma?

The hero refusing to give up an item that could cure her?

He’d seen this sort of thing before.

Sometimes the villain wanted an item, wanted something from the hero for a good cause.

But there was often a good reason the hero would fight tooth and nail to prevent them from acquiring it.

“Ladybug’s Miraculous, when combined with the Black Cat Miraculous, will allow me to save her.”

That was frustratingly vague.

“How? What do you need to do? What are the risks, the consequences?”

His father looked down on him. “I thought you missed her. That you wanted her back. What a poor excuse for a son you are.”

“No! Of course I-!”

“Do you wish for her to remain like this forever?”

“No I just-!”

“That Miraculous is the only thing standing in the way of reviving her. We MUST retrieve it.”

“We…?”

His father took a small box out of his coat.

A very familiar box.

Being held right in front of him.

“Open it.”

It wasn’t a request.

Gingerly he opened the lid.

A small black ring with a green glowing pawprint sat in the middle.

“Put it on.”

Swallowing hard, he did as his father commanded.

A light shot out.

“Wah-!”

It dimmed, revealing a small black catlike creature.

Who shook himself, looked around-

And locked eyes with his father.

“LET ME GO THIS INSTANT, YOU TERRIBLE EXCUSE FOR-!”

“I forbid you from speaking.”

The creature's mouth vanished.

“MMMMM! MMmm- MMMM!”

“Ah… much better.”

Adrien just stared, slack-jawed.

“Father, what did you just- what did you just DO?!”

“I shut up an annoying pest. If he insists on misbehaving and acting out, he no longer gets the privilege of having the ability to do so.”

WHAT.

Adrien opened his mouth to protest… and then shut it.

If he spoke up, ‘acted out’... would his father do the same thing?

He didn’t think his mouth could be sealed off.

But he wasn’t certain of it.

And there were plenty of other things he could do to him.

Suddenly, he was VERY acutely aware of how much bigger, how much taller his father was than him.

How much stronger.

Would Father ever hurt him?

Before today he’d have said ‘no, of course not’. 

Now he wasn’t so sure. He certainly paid no mind to hurting others.

The small cat creature gave his father a death glare, making gestures he guessed would be extremely rude if his forearms had actual fingers to gesticulate with.

“That,” his father pointed at the cat, “is a Kwami. They give the owners of their Miraculous powers. Simply say ‘Plagg, transform me’ and he will be sucked into the ring, much like what happened with my own kwami earlier. Each grants special powers unique to their Miraculous on top of the standard super strength, endurance, and agility. The Black Cat Miraculous gives the power of destruction; simply say ‘Cataclysm’ and you’ll be able to destroy anything you touch. But since you are a child, you will detransform five minutes later, same as that accursed Ladybug.”

He could transform?

Gain superpowers like Ladybug?

Become a superhero?!

He glanced at Plagg.

The kwami’d gone still, simply looking at him with lidded, narrow eyes, mouth still missing.

No. Not a superhero. Not while under Father’s control.

A superVILLAIN.

He swallowed hard.

He wanted to have superpowers, to run around the city, to fight and be free.

But if he had to be a supervillain, he’d rather not have powers at all.

Hesitantly he grasped the ring, slowly pulling it off.

Too late, his father spoke up. “I wouldn’t do-”

The ring was off his finger.

Plagg dropped like a rock.

“WHA-!”

Dropping to his hands and knees he cupped his hands around the violently twisting tiny creature.

His eyes bugged out as he spasmed wildly, flailing uncontrollably.

If he’d had a mouth, Adrien was sure he’d be screaming.

“What’s wrong with him?!” 

“You activated my failsafe,” Father replied. “I wouldn’t want you just leaving the ring lying around. Best you keep it on at all times, unless I allow you to remove it.”

His father did this? INTENTIONALLY?!

Ok, ok, don’t panic! Prioritize. The failsafe activated because he took the ring off, it was meant to incentivize him keeping it on at all times, so…

Fumbling around, he put the ring back on one of his shaking fingers.

Instantly, Plagg relaxed, sinking into his palm, eyes half-closed.

This… this little creature was at his father’s mercy.

And it didn’t seem like Father had much of that.

“F-father?” he said, looking up at him. 

Quickly, he dropped his eyes. Best not to seem like a threat, like he was challenging him.

Maybe Father would assert his dominance by taking it out on him.

Or maybe he'd just take it out on Plagg.

“Please. Please, could you return Plagg’s mouth to him?”

“Hmmph. Perhaps later, provided that he’s well-behaved. Keep him under control or else I’ll do so myself. Right now, I have a task for you.”

That normally would not sound ominous.

Normally, his father would not say that after revealing he was a supervillain and torturing someone.

“Yes, Father.”

His father smiled.

Adrien’s spine stiffened.

“Transform. Let me see what you can do.”

----

Left. Right. Dodge. Jump.

OOPH

He wasn’t used to being caned in the stomach.

It didn’t hurt much — the Miraculous was pretty protective as it turned out — but it was still a pretty harsh impact.

While he was off-balance Father hit him again, sending him flying into a wall.

And again.

And again.

Each time before he could even begin to recover.

Father walked over to him as he lay on the ground, struggling to get up.

Adrien braced himself for another hit.

“I expect better from you. As an Agreste, and as my son.”

He turned his back to him. “We will spar every day until you can put up even a paltry fight. I cannot have you putting up such an embarrassing performance.”

Every day?

This was going to be EVERY DAY?!

He understood training. Understood the need to practice to get better. But training was supposed to include guidance, helpful tricks, being shown a few moves. Not just being beaten by a stronger, more experienced opponent.

He grit his teeth. “Yes, Father.”

“You need to be stronger if you are to take Ladybug’s Miraculous. If we are to heal your mother.”

Mom…

He looked over at her, still peacefully sleeping, entirely unaware of everything that had happened.

If she knew, would she be okay with this?

An hour ago, he would’ve choked at the thought and yelled ‘Of course not!’ 

He knew his parents after all.

But finding out how little he truly knew his father made him doubt.

His father glanced at him. “You may leave for now. Tomorrow, you go out in the field. Do NOT disappoint.”

As he made his way to the elevator, he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. “Not while transformed. Say ‘detransform’ to release it.”

“Detransform!”

Plagg spiraled out of the ring.

His mouth was still gone, but he seemed in better shape than he was right after being tortured, at least.

Oh god, Adrien didn’t want to risk accidentally upsetting his father but-

“I- I think Plagg’s learned his lesson. Please Father?”

He rested his gaze on Adrien for a moment. Then-

“Very well. But if there’s one peep out of him...”

“Thank you, Father.”

He snapped his fingers.

Plagg’s mouth came back. He opened and closed it many times as if testing that it’d truly returned.

“Y-”

NOPE.

Quickly snatching Plagg out of the air, Adrien ran for the elevator.

------

If he ever got his paws on that candy-cane son of a bitch…!

Plagg floated wildly around the room. 

Well. For certain values of ‘around’. That complete and utter BASTARD had decided that in addition to preventing Plagg from harming him, from interacting with anything or anyone else except for eating food, and forcing him to hide whenever others were around, he was ALSO on a leash.

Five feet.

He couldn’t wander more than five feet away from his Miraculous.

And since that- that torture spell would take effect the minute his ring slipped off of his Holder’s finger, that meant he was, in effect, tied to staying within five feet of Adrien.

Adrien…

He didn’t really know what to make of the boy just yet.

His father? Very clear opinion on him.

But his son didn’t exactly seem thrilled with Candy-butt’s actions.

Just his luck. OF COURSE the ‘dark power’ Wayzz had sensed had stumbled on his Miraculous. Naturally. 

He may have been the Kwami of Destruction, but sometimes it felt like he was the Kwami of Bad Luck instead.

Not that assholes getting their hands on him was entirely new, but well, usually they weren’t quite as well-versed in putting up safeguards to stop him from stealing his Miraculous back, or in extreme cases, Cataclysming their asses.

He hadn’t even been activated when the curses were applied. Which hey, on the upside, meant he didn’t have to feel them taking effect! ...On the downside, it meant he didn’t know exactly what the curses were or how many of them there were. Some of them he’d been told about, others he’d figured out for himself, but… there could still be others. He hadn’t known about the “torture if ring is removed” curse until Adrien actually did it.

Not that that would STOP him from looking for loopholes, but well… not right now. He’d been through quite enough pain already without risking stumbling across a curse that would activate the torture again.

He shuddered.

Kwamis by themselves rarely got hurt. But when a Holder transformed, fusing the two of them  together, he’d feel the same pain as the Holder.

The only time he’d felt pain that bad, his Holder had had the brilliant idea to extend his staff upwards a few thousand feet into a stormcloud, just to see what would happen.

They’d both been okay afterwards, but being electrocuted hurt.

“So, uh… is there anything you want to do? Or talk about? Or- or not do, whatever you feel like!”

Plagg blinked.

Adrien looked around awkwardly. “I know this isn’t exactly ideal and it sucks and I’m so, so sorry, but is there anything I can do to help?”

“...Camembert.”

“What?”

“Camembert cheese. The stinkier, the better.”

The kid made a face, but nodded. 

 ------

Thirty minutes and a trip down to the kitchen later, Plagg was completely surrounded with the delectable aroma of smelly, smelly cheese.

Adrien looked about ready to gag, but gave an attempt at a smile whenever he looked over at him.

A small part of Plagg got some satisfaction out of the kid’s discomfort. At least, he wasn’t the only one suffering because of the five-foot leash.

“Do you want to watch anything?” 

Plagg stifled a laugh. Kid’s nose was still wrinkled up from the cheese’s fumes and his eyes watered slightly, but he was making a valiant effort to pretend he was fine.

As far as TV went… well. He hadn’t left the Miracle Box much and Fu’s taste in shows was pretty dull, so-”

“Whatever you feel like. Unless it has to do with cheese, I don’t care. ...IS there a cheese TV show?”

“...I’ll check the guide.”

[wall-maria-fritz]

The Wingman (Erwin Smith x Marie)

Chapter 1: The Girl

Reposting this because I am officially overhauling my @levi-lives blog, in lieu of this one because SOMEONE Tumblr won't let my posts show up from there anymore! grrrr.

@levi-lives blog is still up tho, if you would like still see my original posts

The Wingman: MASTERLIST

Summary:

Before Erwin Smith and Nile Dawk became respected commanders of the Scouting Legion and the Military Police, they were good friends during their cadet days at the 92nd Cadet Corps. They, along with Mike Zacharias, were young, full of vigor, on the rise to greatness, and had a taste for women and booze.

And they all planned to join the coveted ranks of the Military Police.

But when Nile asked Erwin to write his love letters for a woman named Marie, Erwin starts thinking that maybe even a man like him could dream of falling in love.

Nile once scoffed at Erwin at how he could trade Marie for a life of Titans and death. And this is why.

Author’s Note: Ngl, this quarantine is really getting into my extrovert head, and my emotional and mental health is taking one heck of skinny dip. I NEED human interaction ASDGHJKL AND SO I THOUGHT why not translate all this quarantine angst and anxiety into a story! This idea came to me while cooking for the 2382 time during quarantine and it’s been stick in my head ever since! I’ve always been curious about what happened between Erwin and Marie and thought this would be a fun (albeit heartbreaking) story to tackle.

I wrote this while listening to one the songs from the AOT soundtrack— 2chijou by Hiroyuki Sawano, and Hey Barbara by IV of Spades try listening to it while reading!

Chapter 1: The Girl

The April heat was unforgiving and harsh as the cadets of the 92nd Cadet Corps went about their usual afternoon sparring session. The clear blue skies and the wildflowers scattered about the compound in full bloom casted a perfect backdrop to the heady atmosphere of the early summer. And as beautiful as the day may be, it was also such a bitch.

Erwin Smith and Nile Dawk shrugged off their caramel jackets to prepare for a spar. Their white shirts are already sticking to their backs beneath the April sun. Erwin was just about ready to take down Nile and get over the spar in time for a nice cool shower, and a cigarette paired with a cool glass of whiskey.

And maybe a woman on his lap.

“I’m telling you Erwin, you should have been there. She was gorgeous.”

Erwin rolled his blue eyes at his friend. Nile had just easily spent the morning all but swooning to Erwin about a girl he just met during one of his and Mike’s romps to a bar in Wall Maria’s central hub called Titan Territory. Usually, Erwin would accompany the two, but he just so happened to be off on a visit to his mother at Wall Rose with his brother. The blonde cadet has yet to see the girl, but he does know enough from his friend that “Fuck she was gorgeous! With blazing ginger curls and bright hazel eyes! And her lips! They looked so sweet and plump. With a curvy body to match too!”

“She was like an angel sent by the Goddesses themselves, man,” Nile continued to gush, rubbing his stubble while lost in thought at the mystery girl. Erwin gave a wry smile. Still, he did find some amusement in seeing his friend act like a clingy schoolgirl. Erwin smirked at the raven haired man before him, rolling back his broad shoulders, flexing his muscles for a fight. He was vaguely aware of the lingering glances from the female cadets on the field. “Do you even know her name? Or were you just too busy kissing the ground she walked?” Nile stopped rubbing his peach fuzz, his alabaster features flushing even brighter despite the intense heat.

“I was drunk. I can’t remember her name.”

Erwin chuckled, shaking his head. He carded his hands through his hair, shaking the sweat out of his blonde hair. “You’re too drunk to remember, or she wouldn’t tell you?” The blonde cocked a thick eyebrow.

Nile glared at him as he unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves— At 6’3” Erwin Smith was a good five inches taller than him, and packed more punch and muscle at that. If Nile had any hope of beating the large man, he had to be quick and agile. He needed as much mobility as he could get.

The two men got into position.

“Shut up, poor thing was probably too shy.”

“There’s a fine line between being shy and refusing to entertain a perv,” Erwin jabbed, to which Nile scoffed at.

“OI! SCRUFFY AND EYEBROWS!”

The resounding bark of Cadet Corps Commander, Valentin Müller disturbed the two cadet’s banter. The man was a nightmare. He quite literally looks like a walking corpse, with his eyes sunk in so low into his head, it looked like a talking skull.

“WHAT ARE YA TWO MILKMAIDS GOSSIPING ABOUT?!”

The veins in Müller’s neck might as well have popped out as the old commander’s cold eyes bore into them.

“WHAT ARE YA WAITING FOR?! A TITAN TO SUCK YA DICK?! YA BETTER START PUNCHING EACH OTHER OR IM GOING TO PERSONALLY CART YA PUSSIES OFF TO A TITAN ORGY!”

“Sweet Sina, Müller take a happy pill,” Erwin thinks as he makes eye contact with Nile.

Both men answer back with a firm “Yes Sir!” Nile, the bastard, whispers under his breath, “Corpse Cock’s going to cart us off because he knows he can’t land a punch on us himself.”

Erwin smirks at the brilliant nickname his brother coined for the old commander. The two men knew that they had to start sparring if they didn’t want Müller hounding their ass. Erwin could sense the shift in Nile’s stance. How he dug his feet into the dry dirt of the sparring field in order to stabilize his center of gravity, ready to spring into action. Erwin knew Nile was quick on his feet. And the stubbled man meant business. All Erwin had to do was wait for his first move.

And take the first move he did. Nile, quick as fox, lunged forward to land a solid punch to Erwin’s head. Erwin managed to dodge the blow, but soon, Erwin was on the defensive. The taller man started blocking Nile’s successive attacks until he found an opening; Nile may be faster, but Erwin certainly was smarter.

As a frustrated Nile started throwing punches and kicks in reckless abandon, itching to hit the blonde, he got lucky and landed a blow to the gut. Erwin grunted, and immediately saw the triumph in his opponent’s eyes.

Erwin smirked.

First rule of sparring— a fight isn’t a victory unless you send your opponent to the ground.

Erwin latched onto Nile’s dominant punching arm with a death grip, and twisted the man’s limb behind his back. Nile moved to elbow Erwin in the face but the tall blonde let his advantage in size and strength propel his body to throw Nile over his back. Nile hit the dirt with a heavy thud, the back of his skull knocking on the ground. But he wasn’t quite done yet. Without missing a beat, Nile swept his leg out, knocking Erwin off balance. Nile was on top of Erwin the moment the blonde was on the ground. But before Nile can give the final blow, Erwin knees him in the stomach and rolls over Nile’s buckled form. Erwin immediately reached for the wooden training knife in his boot and positioned it above Nile’s jugular.

“You’re a son of bitch to kill, you know that?”

Erwin was breathless and sweating buckets. Nile was just the same, as he held his hands palms up in surrender. “Part of the magic, Eyebrows.”

“OI MAGGOTS!” Müller’s roar made the two look up. Around them, a number of cadets— most of whom are women— have stopped their own sparring to watch Erwin and Nile fight. One female cadet was even openly fanning herself, looking straight at Erwin.

“STOP WATCHING EYEBROWS AND SCRUFFY HAVE SEX AND KEEP FIGHTING. TRAINING ISN’T OVER YET SCUMBALLS!”

The cadets resumed their sparring with a shaky “Yes Sir!” Once satisfied, Müller stalked off to terrorize some other poor cadet as he glanced at the two vehemently.

Erwin got up on his feet, then held out a hand to his friend. Nile accepted it, rubbing the growing bump at the back of his head. “By the Walls Erwin, could you tell Derek to stop fucking Müller’s daughter so he could stop chewing us out like the gum off his shoe?” Nile frowned as Erwin tossed him a jug of water from the refreshments area under a tree. “I’ve tried that one already. My brother’s a stubborn piece of shit. You think I like Müller hounding my ass?” Erwin replied, his deep voice gravelly in exhaustion. He started chugging down the soothing liquid. His sculpted Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he drank, once again feeling quite a few female stares on him.

“Look at you, a tomcat even without trying.”

Mike Zacharias’ hulking form approached them. His spar has long since finished after making quick work of his opponent in less than two minutes. Mike, for all intents and purposes, was a deadly weapon masked in his calm facade. He stood even taller than Erwin at 6’5” and had the ability to combine Nile’s quick reflexes, and Erwin’s eye for observation (or rather nose) with his own brutal strength and power.

“I could smell all the girls creaming up for you,” Mike smirked.

He is also a lecherous bastard, made even more disconcerting with his ability to ‘sniff people out’. Whatever the fuck that means.

“Better a tomcat than a dog in a rut,” Erwin smirked in reply.

“And that brother is why they call me Bloodhound.” Mike grinned boyishly.

There isn’t a soul in the Cadet Corps who didn’t know about Mike’s many conquests, and he is certainly fine with that.

Mike watched as Nile poured the remaining contents of his jug over his face. He was in desperate need of a cool off and the summer heat was not helping the throbbing in his head. Mike let his large bulk of a body lean against a tree and jabbed his thumb at Nile’s direction. “I take it this one has told you about his new obsession?”

“It’s not an obsession.”

“It’s an obsession if you won’t stop talking about a girl who’s name you don’t even know for three days straight.”

Nile gave Mike a dirty look and flashed his middle finger after he shook off the water from his dark hair, a few dew drops clinging to the unusually long and thick eyelashes that framed his silver eyes. The men heard more than a few feminine gasps at the action.

Meanwhile, Erwin’s blue eyes grew wide. “Three days? I just got back yesterday. Damn, Nile you got it bad,” the blonde chuckled, placing a large hand on his hip as he drank some more water.

“Yeah. Why wait to know her name when you can just corner her in a room and pin her down,” Mike laughed, his deep husk carrying over the warm breeze.

“Because I don’t operate that way,” came Nile’s serious reply.

“i d0N’t oPEraTe tHaT wAy” Erwin and Mike nearly doubled over in a fit, once again causing the girls to gaze over the three handsome men lounging beneath a tree.

But it was true, Nile didn’t operate that way.

Where Mike fucked around with his women in abandon, and Erwin prefered the intoxicating art of seductive subtlety, Nile tended to be the more romantic of the three. While Nile Dawk—with his rugged good looks and his ‘messy but sexy’ appearance, has had more than his fair share of flings and fucks— liked to be sweet to whichever woman he was currently having a fleeting affair with.

“Oh piss off you two. Don’t act as if you won’t jump at the first chance to drink at the Territory then jump at a girl.” The tall blonde man and the tall brunette grinned at each other cheekily.

Yes they certainly would.

—————

Erwin has never been to the Titan Territory. But something about the bar’s lowlighting, sensual music, and the dark haired beauty writhing on his lap told him he’ll soon be a happy regular.

Erwin’s hands held the woman’s waist as he pushed her hips forward to press into his, the woman threw back her silky dark hair with a quiet moan. The large blonde started suckling on her exposed clavicle.

God, Erwin loved brunettes.

He slowly ran his lips up to her slender neck as he reached her ear to whisper hotly, “You’re certainly giving me a pleasurable welcome, Elena.” The woman’s perfume was almost as intoxicating as the whiskey he just downed. Elena pressed her hands onto Erwin’s solid chest, her exotic amber eyes peeking at him lustfully. “I had a feeling you aren’t from around here, Soldier.”

Erwin gave a husky chuckle. His distinct Wall Rose accent was quite often a dead giveaway. He tried to hide the twang during the beginning of his Cadet Training, thinking it would bring him unnecessary attention from his many Wall Marian classmates, wondering what a college educated Wall Rose kid like him is doing training to be in the military. But now that the cat’s out of the bag thanks to Müller furiously announcing it to the whole class during their Introductions Ceremony, Erwin found that the accent not only earns him a subconscious sense of respect from his intimidated classmates, but also that Marian women love to flock a man from the inner Walls.

Erwin ran his large hands up her sides. “And neither are you, kitten.” Elena’s exotic olive skin and cat-like eyes told Erwin she must be from the Eastern District of Wall Maria, who were known for their sunshine, coffee, and perfumes.

Erwin captured her lips with his, his thumbs grazing the sides of her abundant breasts. Elena purred, and was breathless when she broke the kiss and said heatedly to Erwin, “Well then, why don’t you and I book a room upstairs and tell each other just what… we’re doing here.”

She moves in to kiss Erwin’s thick neck, her hands gripping his strong shoulders. Erwin raised a thick eyebrow. “Tsk tsk kitten, so impatient.” He gestures at his glass. “What about another drink?” Elena pouted at the blonde man, clearly riled up and disappointed. “Don’t be a tease, Erwin!” Erwin gave the woman a peck on the lips then a light smack to her ass. “You’ve seen nothing yet.”

Elena reluctantly got off his lap and took his glass to refill it at the back of the bar.

“Goddamn. Not even 30 minutes in, and you’ve already got one of the barmaids drooling on your lap. And I thought you’d have more self-restraint than that one.” Nile jabbed a thumb at Mike, who was very clearly enjoying fondling the breast of a blushing blonde girl. The two men could just imagine all the vulgar things the brute must be whispering to the helpless girl. The dark haired man took a drink of his ice cold beer, mumbling, “Thank god we’re not in uniform.”

Erwin laughed clapping his friend at the back. “Hey man, we’re not so bad! At least we actually got our girl’s name,” The blonde grinned cheekily. Nile rolled his eyes to the heavens, already hearing this joke before. “Whatever, Eyebrows. Just you wait till she gets here. You’ll wish you saw her first!”

“Wait.” Erwin takes in the fact that Nile hasn’t been drinking all the hard liquor he usually loved, and is nursing a pretty boring mug of beer and half a cigarette instead. “Have you been waiting for her? Shit Nile, since when were you such a sap!” Nile was about to snap back a retort when his silver eyes looked over Erwin’s shoulder, and his breath hitched.

“One of you boys ordered a whiskey?”

Erwin swiveled back smoothly to finally see his friend’s mystery girl. Only to see a familiar face.

“Marie?”

[mando-abs]

Dream Time with Abs

On this episode: First Dream with a young modern rebel Din Djarin

Context: I recently added the Session series by @mandocrasis on my TBR list and my brain said “Alright, bet.” and ran with the idea of it. So, I guess this dream is inspired by the series???? I don’t know. I haven’t read it yet. But, this dream was too good not to share.

Also 18+ warning - some sexual themes are mentioned in this dream but never actually put into motion.

The Story:

No idea why my dreams have been involving schools with varying age ranges lately but HERE WE GO.

It all started out with me in a gym class. I was talking to a group of chatty girls, and they started gossiping about the rebel Din Djarin. One girl, we’ll call her Stacy, mentioned how she wanted to quote “get in his pants.” I rolled my eyes at Stacy, and she got really defensive over it. To appease the Stacy, the girls decided that they would pass a note onto Din about which girl, me or Stacy, he would rather hook up with. (It’s so teenage lunchroom-esque. I love it)

I wasn’t too worried about it since I’m practically a nobody, but it still bothered me that they would send such a crude letter to him. But also, my brain really wanted to see this plot through, so I allowed it. The girls came back by the end of the day with huge grins on their faces. As it turns out, Din was more interested in me than Stacy. In fact, he had his eye set out for me anyways.

Now, I start panicking internally. Like, what? All I’ve heard are whispers about the guy and how popular he was (or unpopular, it’s never really discussed why he was the talk of the school). Why would he agree to hook up with a nerd like me? (Spoiler alert: that isn’t explained in this dream either, sorry)

Regardless, the girls were really excited for me and decided to help a girl out. They scouted the perfect classroom for me to stakeout in. It was currently being held by a class full of children (what kind of a school is this???), but, eventually, it would be empty, giving me the best opportunity to get my freak on. They even tried giving me pointers (in shushed voices of course) on how to, for lack of better terms, stick it in there in a classroom setting. Then, they just leave me there.

So there I was, sitting in this classroom full of children, waiting for Din to come do whatever with me. I was so incredibly nervous, constantly shifting in my seat. What was I even doing? But in my mind, to keep the dream going, I was like…

After waiting for a few minutes, Mr. Din Djarin finally walked into the classroom.

And when I tell you that this boy was so fine, that this boy was so scrum-dilly-icous… Let me paint you a picture of him. Din was much younger than he is typically. He was not like the man he is rn, he was a boy (still my age of course, but not aged like the fine wine he is in Mandalorian).

The best way to describe him is Pedro Pascal as he looked in Hermanas, but with a white t-shirt and leather jacket over it.

Wooooooo. Okay. Well, now I was trying to play it off cool to match his sick rebel vibes while simultaneously going into meltdown mode on the inside. He pulled up a seat next to me, placed his bag on the floor, and sat down.

“Hey,” he said all nonchalantly.

“Hey,” I said not so collected back at him.

“Looks like we’re going to be here a while.”

“Yeah… Got any homework you need to do?” 🤦🏻Nice one, nerd. God.

Din laughed, but not condescendingly so. It’s almost like he was actually relieved I was more concerned about his grades than having sex with him.

“Yeah, actually. I’ve got a quiz coming up.”

“Well, good then.”

So he got out his binder and started studying for some unknown quiz.

Now…this was the part I remembered the most because it felt so real. While we were sitting there as he was studying (and I nosily looking over his shoulder to see what he was studying), I got brave enough and held his hand. I physically felt his hand. I will not be able to forget his touch for a while. And all of you writers out there like to write Din and Pedro characters alike with large calloused hands (and respectfully so, most of his characters are hard workers). His hand was soft. It easily enveloped mine still, but they were gentle. I think he smiled out of the corner of his mouth, but I didn’t look at him as hard out of nervousness.

So we sat and sat, and sat some more with our hands locked like this. All the kids left, but the teacher still hung around. By that point, I was frustrated and really wanted the teacher to get lost. But, knowing Ms. Goody Two-Shoes me, I wouldn’t do that. I was more concerned about my parents not knowing where the hell I was.

I got to thinking. I whispered to Din. “You know, we don’t have to do this here. Maybe we can go somewhere away from here, away from student hangouts?”

“Well, I’ve got a truck. You wanna head out?” (Btw, I imagined rebel Din’s truck as Bella Swan’s old red Chevy truck…if that’s any interest to you…)

“Sure. Lemme just…” I got out my phone and texted one of my parents.

Hey! Going to get a bite with a buddy. Be home soon.

We headed out, hands still interlocked, with Din leading the way.

Now, this is the part we’re things get interesting. On our way out, I stopped dead in my tracks in front of one classroom door and made Din flip around due to the suddenness of it.

He looked confused at me. “What?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just… I heard there was a baby in art room class.”

Din raised his hands up like he was saying, “And?”

“Well, this is the art room.” I shuffled my feet. “And, I kinda want to see it.” I flashed a smile at him. But I didn’t even wait for his response, I just went in the classroom.

Din stood at the doorway confused for a moment. He straightened his jacket and acted like this was all a part of his plan. “I know my way around this place.” He didn’t.

When we both were in the room, we looked around to find the baby with a small cluster of students ogling at and playing with. And, to no surprise, it was Grogu. Grogu did not change his appearance in the dream AT ALL. We just all accepted the green skinned, bug eyed, pointy eared baby.

After Din and I spent a few moments cooing and making wiggly fingers at the baby, we went to go talk to the teacher about how cute the kid is and how proud he must be.

But the teacher was like, “Oh no. That’s not my baby. I’m just babysitting for a few days. That baby is on it’s way to back to be reunited with his cult.”

Din and I looked at the man like he was crazy. We then looked at each other a bit uneasy over it. This didn’t sit well with the two of us.

So instead of heading out to his truck, we went to go research more about this mysterious cult (I’m guessing at the library??? idk) As it turns out, this cult is notorious for stealing family’s’ babies, and adopts them into their own weird cult stuff.

Din and I looked up from the book we were reading in and stared at each other. We didn’t speak a single word to one another, but I knew we had one goal in common -

We were going to steal back a baby that night.

__________________________________________

And that’s it! That’s the dream! I hoped you enjoyed it. Uh, I wouldn’t expect an update dream as my dreams are very unpredictable and highly unstable. Hopefully I’ll get to see rebel Din again, and we go steal babies to bring back to their families. Maybe hold hands again, maybe have sex? Who knows! Cause I don’t 😀

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Walk Me Home

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous  love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension. 

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 3229

Author’s Note: Here we go, fam! New story, new adventures, new thrills and chills and feels! Who’s excited?!? This story was inspired by P!nk’s song “Walk Me Home”, which you should totes listen to (and watch the video, it’s so COOL) if you haven’t. This was a birthday present for @thoughtslikeaminefield​ , though I will admit it was a few...well, either days or years late, depending on how you look at it. I hope y’all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! SHE ALSO MADE THE IMAGE!! HOW GORGEOUS?!?!

Mega thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ , @fangirlxwritesx67​, and @cracksinthewalls​ for editing, revision, flailing, and generally knocking sense into me when I’m being stubborn. You all made this story way better than it started it, and I love you.

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY. 

ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 1

A firm tap on the door of her office makes Kimberly’s head snap up. She blinks, her eyes unable to focus quickly after looking up from her computer screen. She remembers she’s wearing her reading glasses, and slips them off her nose, letting them dangle from the chain around her neck.

“Dr. Harper? Could I take a few minutes of your time?”

“Yes, I…” Her eyes finally focus on her visitor, and the room is suddenly devoid of oxygen. “Dean? Is it...really?”

“Kimber?” 

The astonished man framed in the doorway is a far cry from the brash, charming boy she met in a different life, but she’d know him anywhere. Time has been more than kind to Dean Winchester, and Kimberly has to admit some things really do get better with age.

Which is saying a lot, considering.

“God, no one’s called me that since high school.” She stands and takes a couple of measured steps around her desk. Seeing him unexpectedly like this after so much time leaves her physically and emotionally off-balance, but the smile she offers him is genuine. “You’re a helluva sight for sore eyes. It’s been a while.”

Dean recovers from his shock quickly, crossing the small room in a few quick strides, and sweeps her into a hug. She’s engulfed in his presence, not just his physical stature (she does not remember him being this tall or broad or...solid) but also the scent and feel that is absolutely Dean. She feels a shock of vertigo as memories and emotions she’d long laid to rest all vie for immediate attention.

It hits them simultaneously that they’ve embraced for a few moments longer than necessary, and they disentangle with sheepish smiles.

“What are...no, I’m sorry, I’m being rude. Have a seat!” A lop-sided smile pulls at Dean’s lips, and suddenly she’s seventeen again, trying desperately to keep her cool as she finally gets to talk to the handsome, mysterious new kid. Warmth floods every cell of her body, and she comes dangerously close to giggling. 

“Coffee?” she offers, forgetting most of her hard-earned vocabulary in the face of her teenage dream.

“Always.”

...

The last time she’d seen Dean Winchester, his father was burning holes in his elder son’s back from the driver’s seat of his precious Impala. He glowered at Dean and Kimber, impatiently drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as the teenagers stumbled through their good-byes. Dean’s younger brother sat, slump-shouldered and defeated in the back seat, resigned to yet another relocation.

“Don’t forget my number,” Kimberly murmured, her palms sliding over his jaw, fingers threading into his close-cropped hair, and they both knew she meant, “Don’t forget me.”

“I couldn’t if I tried, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice breaking on the last word. He cleared his throat, trying to turn away before she could see any weakness.

“Don’t,” she said, holding his face firmly. “If this is all I get of you, don’t even take that much from me.”

Five blissful weeks they’d had before Dean’s father concluded his mysterious business in the area. Five weeks since she’d begun tutoring Dean in AP American History; an absolute sham, she had realized exactly five minutes into their first session. Dean may not have been caught up on the exact dates and details of what they were covering in class, but once he set eyes on the material, even she had a hard time keeping pace with his reasoning.

“Just wanted to talk to you alone,” he’d admitted that afternoon, his olive eyes sparkling. He flashed her what had to be an award-winning half-grin, showing a glimpse of perfect, dazzling white teeth and the merest touch of uncertain vulnerability. 

“Does that usually work on girls?” she asked, genuinely curious. He had to practice that expression in the mirror; it was too perfect to be natural. His face lit up as his smile spread, his cheeks gaining the faintest hint of pink. In that one moment, Kimber realized she’d lived her entire life under an overcast sky, and now the clouds had parted. His smile was the sun on her face for the first time, dazzling and vital, and she soaked it in with dizzy abandon.

“Why, is it working on you?”

“Yeah, it, um, it really is.”

They spent the next month or so getting to know each other as only kids can, when everything is new, the absolute pinnacle of priority and passion. They studied each other as fervently as they should have studied for midterms. Explaining how the Age of Enlightenment influenced the American Revolution was a complete waste of time next to finding out that the beautiful, smooth-talking, tough-as-nails Dean Winchester was actually ticklish.

Dean told her the most amazing stories, which she only learned were true after he and his family disappeared. She caught him up in history enough for the teacher to get off his back, and in return he showed her how to get rid of unwanted physical attention with minimal risk on her part.

Dean wasn’t her first kiss, but he wiped the memory of every other fumbling embrace from her mind with a searing permanence. Some nights they snuck out to the treehouse in her backyard, and some nights she snuck him into her room. He would never take her out to any of the famous local make-out spots, though; he said they were too dangerous and just begging for trouble. 

She knew better than to argue with him when he got “that look” on his face, spoke to her in “that tone.” It took many years and some hard experiences of her own, but she did eventually learn that he’d been protecting her from so much more than she ever could have understood at that point in her life.

She found herself in awe of the sheer amount of wisdom contained in such a carefree, often goofy package. That they were chronologically the same age, almost to the month, was irrelevant; Dean Winchester had lived far beyond his years, and it showed.

And then one night, he’d arrived on her doorstep in the middle of dinner, asked if she could come outside for a minute. When he told her he was leaving, she knew he wasn’t joking. He’d warned her it would happen this way, that he had no idea how long they’d be in town, but she’d always imagined that future as some vague, misty destination, like “graduation” or “college.” Definitely going to happen, but not anytime soon, so might as well relax and enjoy things while you could.

“I…” But she couldn’t say it, not yet. She wanted to, had read so many novels and seen all the movies. It was the thing to say, and half her friends had already proclaimed their hearts belonging to various celebrities and hot guys around school. But staring into Dean’s eyes, so much older than they should be, she knew better than to throw that word out so lightly, carelessly.

“Yeah,” he sighed. His eyelids dropped, shoulders heaved once, and when he met her gaze again, that smooth front of cool confidence had slid back in place. “I know, sweetheart. Me, too.”

He kissed her then, despite his father’s glowering, despite her parents’ astonished looks from between the living room curtains. His hands were tight on her waist, and she raised up on her toes, pulling his face just a little closer. 

They pulled apart after a long moment, eyes locked, and she kissed him one last time, chastely, savoring the plush of his velvet-soft lips against hers. 

Then she let him go, and he went. There was nothing else they could do.

She hugged herself against the chill autumn night, ignoring the first dashes of icy rain that stung her bare arms as she watched the black Impala turn a corner and disappear.

She didn’t see him again for nearly two and a half decades. When he knocked on her office door, asking for Dr. Harper, the years melted away. She felt the sting of the rain, the chill of the night he’d left, and for a long moment, all she could do was stare.

…

“How did you find me?” he asks. His fingers slip around the coffee mug she offers him, and she has to make a physical effort to keep her thoughts focused on the task at hand. Everything about Dean has aged so gracefully. She would be envious if she weren’t also granted the absolute gift of drinking in the sight of him. 

“I didn’t,” she says, “not exactly. I’ve been teaching mythology, folklore, and urban legends at the university for a long time now. You got me started on that, back in the day.” She offers him a small smile, hoping he understands she remembers all the stories he told her.

The grin he offers in return melts something in her chest that’s been rigid and frozen, deliberately separated from the rest of her emotions for most of her adult life, and she can’t breathe for a second.

“After you left town, I started digging a little. I looked into some of those stories you told me, some of the places you’d mentioned, and then some of the weird stuff that had been happening in the towns where you said your dad was working. I’m sure you know what I found,” she says, eyebrows raised. 

Dean’s lips purse as he considers her words. He opens his mouth, brows creased, but then he seems to change his mind. He takes a long drink of coffee, and when he lowers the mug his expression is once again neutral.

“Well, I stayed interested. Made a career out of it, somehow. And then people started coming to me, asking for help finding bits of information here, some lore or ancient knowledge there. Some were hunters, some scholars, but it kind of became my thing. I’d hear stories about you and your brother occasionally, Mr. FBI’s Most Wanted,” she adds, and he chokes a little on his swallow of coffee.

“Why didn’t you ever reach out?” He brushes stray droplets of coffee from his chin absently, and her eyes laser in on a particularly enticing drop on the corner of his mouth. His tongue flicks out, catching it before it falls, and her breath hitches.

“To be honest, I was too nervous,” she admits as he sets his mug on the coaster in front of him. For the first time in many years, old feelings of abandonment, inadequacy, rear their nasty little heads. She has to work to keep her tone even. 

“It’s been how long? I figured you’d forgotten all about me; I thought maybe I was just another conquest to you-”

“You were never a conquest to me, Kimber. You know that.” His jaw works in agitation as he frowns. Hurt and something else - guilt, maybe? - cross his face before his expression smooths out, replaced by a blank mask. “You should have known that.”

Doubt cartwheels through Kimber's mind, sending her thoughts reeling. Twenty-four years of thinking Dean Winchester had forgotten her are suddenly put into a new, alien perspective. She scrambles internally to regain her bearings, stunned in a way that only comes from a solid blow to one’s core beliefs. 

Despite her parting plea, he’d never called her, not once in all the years after, and she’d convinced herself she was just the girl of the month. She’d been angry for a long time, well into college, but bit by bit, she forced herself to shut away her feelings, ball them up into a tiny hollow in her chest where she could at least ignore them, and moved on.

Apparently, somehow, she’d been mistaken. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn't have said that.”

He nods stiffly, sitting back in his chair a little, putting a touch more distance between them. He raises his hand for her to continue, his gesture abrupt, and she shrivels inside. She sees she’s offended him, but if she’s in the wrong, then why did he never call? 

“Dean, look, I shouldn’t have said conquest. That was insensitive of me, but from my perspective, what was I supposed to think? You say you won’t forget me, then you vanish into the night? What happened? Not even a single call to let me know you made it to your next stop alive?”

There’s another flash of pain, chased quickly from his eyes by what she’s pretty sure now is guilt. Exhaustion finally settles in, and he suddenly shows every one of the twenty-four years since he last saw her.

“Look, we’ve got a more immediate problem here, if the little bit Garth told me is true. Let’s…” he sighs, scrubbing his face tiredly with his hands. He steeples his fingers in front of his lips, coming to some sort of decision. 

“We can sit down and talk Memory Lane over some pie and coffee, but let’s get through this first. Now tell me what’s going on.”

As much as she wants to argue, force him to tell her exactly why he never reached out, she can tell he isn’t going to budge. 

“I...so...I wasn’t looking for you specifically,” she stumbles, “but I reached out to a former student of mine, Garth Fitzgerald, who I knew had been a hunter at one point and still had contacts. He said he would send someone my way, and then…”

“And then I showed up,” he finishes. His tone is efficient, economical, and all business. “Garth didn’t tell me much except his old professor was having some supernatural stalking issues. Gotta say,” he adds, and she is relieved to her bones to see the tiniest of crinkles by his eyes, “Sure didn’t picture you when Garth said ‘old professor.’ Figured I’d get Indiana Jones or his dad, maybe, but not...yeah.”

His attempt to add a little humor makes the wash of guilt and confusion in Kimber’s stomach even more uncomfortable. 

She fills him in on the details, odd accidents happening to the people she’s closest with at work, strange noises around her house at night, the ever increasing sense she’s being watched. 

“You talk to the police?” he asks.

She nods, letting her sour expression do most of the talking for her. “Went as well as it usually does. They didn’t even talk to my neighbors to see if anyone had seen anything. I had to do that.”

“Still, though. Doesn’t sound too supernatural to me,” he finally says, eyebrows furrowed. He isn’t dismissive, though; he stares hard at his coffee mug as he considers her story.

“Well, I guess you could explain away Helen’s fall down the stairs as a horrible but mundane accident. She could have tripped, but the people near her said she looked like she was pushed. Except no one was near enough to have done it.”

Now that she's getting over the shock of finding him on her doorstep, she remembers why he's there in the first place, and reality rushes back in. Kimber’s composure falters, but she does her level best to keep her voice steady.

“But Professor Lawrence was by himself in his office when his skin just started...boiling, not burning. I don’t care what the police report says. And Allen Simpson didn’t actually want to staple his hand to his dissertation, I promise you. He had just talked with me about one of his sources over coffee an hour before...before…”

Her throat closes as the whole nasty scene flashes before her eyes. She’d found him in the grad student workroom after following the sounds of his anguished howls, and there was just so much blood. She’d heard stories from the hunters she’d worked with, read her own share of horrific incidents, but to see it first hand…

“And sometimes, when I walk home at night, there’s...I’ve never seen anything, but I hear footsteps. Always behind me, and there’s no one there, but I know there isn’t anywhere for them to hide, whoever they are. I can feel them just...watching me. Even at home, a couple of times, when I should be absolutely alone, all my blinds and drapes closed. Once when I was making dinner, and once when I was...showering, and...Dean, it’s...I don’t understand.”

She takes in a stuttering breath and dashes at her eyes with the back of her wrist. Her hand drops limply to the desk as she stares at the glossy surface, finally allowing herself to feel the full depth of her fears.

“I’ve researched, tried to figure it out on my own. It shows all the classic signs of witches, but there’s been no evidence of a coven in town before now. I suppose a new one could have moved in, but I haven’t found any evidence so far. No one suspicious hanging around that I’ve noticed.”

Breathe, she reminds herself sharply. 

“I checked back through as much of my notes as I could find on the hunters I’ve helped with witch cases. I checked in with anyone who had an open case or hadn’t called me back to let me know how their hunts went. Nobody had anything helpful to tell me.”

Silence stretches between them, both waiting for the other to say something, anything. Kimber cracks first.

“Dean, I’m no hunter. I’ve worked it as much as I can from the research end, and I just...I need help. Please.”

Dean’s hand settles atop hers, its warm weight an echo of familiarity, and she swallows hard against the rising bile in her throat. She meets his eyes, and his gaze is malachite.

“We’re gonna figure this out. I know you. You say this sucker’s a witch, I say bring me that bucket of water, Dorothy. We’ll get this fucker, I promise.”

That secret spot in her chest brightens, warms by another degree or two, and she nods her gratitude. “Thank you. So much. Now...it’s been a long day, and I’m kind of beat. Could I invite you over for dinner without it being too weird?”

He squeezes her hand before releasing it with a roll of his eyes. “I can behave myself, if that’s what you’re getting at. I’m not feral, Kimber.”

“You’re not exactly tame, either,” she says, softening the words with a half-smile as she stands. She swings her jacket on, and he mirrors her actions. She shuts down her computer while he waits in the hall, looking up and down the corridor.

“I’ll need to do a full sweep of your office and check the scenes of the accidents,” he says as she pulls the door shut behind them and locks it. “Who all has keys to the professors’ offices?”

“Just the cleaning staff and the department secretary, and the professors themselves,” she says. “I can’t think of anyone else who would.” 

He nods, pursing his lips. Suddenly, a smile lights his entire face and he sweeps into a ridiculous bow before popping up and offering her his arm. The years dissolve in an instant, and he’s that seventeen-year-old boy again, still too old for his age but trying so desperately to hang on to that carefree spirit, holding his elbow in her direction after slinging her backpack over his shoulder.

“Walk you home, milady?”

“I would be honored, good sir.” ...

Chapter 2

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter thirty-seven: december thirty-first

Over Thanksgiving and over Christmas, Sam spent the days in her apartment alone: Ruben and Esmé had put a great deal of money into repainting the house and thus she couldn't fly out to visit them, and they couldn't do the same for her, either. She vowed to fly out for a visit at least before the school year was over, but at that point, she wished for some solitude. Time away from everything before she faced the world again; at least some time alone before her twenty second birthday. In the meantime, another year about to end and Sam couldn't help but feel that Cliff was being left behind in late September. All things had gone away and yet she still wished for his presence next to her, and yet she still wished for time alone, especially after such a loaded schedule for that fall term.

Christmas Eve alone, but Aurora and Belinda both had offered to bring her over for at least the next day.

“I at least wanna get you something,” Belinda had told her over the phone.

“Of course,” Sam assured her, “I just wanna spend some time alone.”

“You gonna be alright?” Sam thought back to when Belinda made that joke to her, and even though it was water under the bridge at that point, she knew she wanted to make it up to her.

“Yeah. Positive.”

Aurora had gone back out to San Diego to visit her parents for a whole week, and thus Emile was alone for Christmas himself, as far as Sam knew anyways. She wondered what was happening in between them, especially given Aurora never really spoke about it that much to her. But there was more to Belinda that she needed to know about: she only knew her through their classes. Maybe there was something more to her than she had originally believed: maybe there was more to her than meets the eye.

“Bel, I'm going out to Ithaca for New Year's,” she told her.

“Oh?”

“Y-You wanna come?” Sam offered with bit of a stammer.

“Um, sure? I gotta go upstate around then anyway. What's in Ithaca?”

“I was invited to sit in for a recording session for—that band Legacy. You know those guys, Legacy?”

“Vaguely, yes? I remember Marla talking about them a few times before but I can't remember if I actually met them, though.”

“But yeah, I was invited to sit in with them while they record for their very first album.”

“Oh, cool!”

“I don't—really want to go alone, though. I want to spend the holidays alone but I don't want to go to this alone, though. Aurora's out in San Diego right now—”

“And Marla and Charlie are down here in Hell's Kitchen with her parents,” Belinda added.

“—I'm the assistant to Aurora if anyone asks.”

“What about me?”

“I'll think of something for you,” she vowed. “If anyone asks, I'll say that you're a friend of mine and you'll keep it confidential. I mean, I already have told you about it somewhat. I might as well take you with and ask you to keep it under wraps.”

“I won't tell a soul,” Belinda promised. There was a voice in the background, and she hesitated. “I gotta go, Sam. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Bel,” she echoed her, “I'll be going out there on New Year's Eve.”

“I'll see you then!” Belinda vowed. “You live in the Bronx, right?”

“Right up on the northern side of the Bronx—two floors upstairs from Frankie.”

“Oh, I know exactly where that is! I'll see you then. Merry Christmas, Sam.”

“Merry Christmas, Bel.”

They hung up at the same time and Sam ran her fingers through her dark hair. It was her first Christmas alone, and before then it was her first Thanksgiving alone, and yet she wanted it all to herself.

She had posted up a cactus on her coffee table and put a little glittered silver star in the soil, right where it pointed out to the rest of the room. Indeed, when she headed back to her bedroom, and turned off the overhead light, the silver sparkled in the low light. It followed her all the way into her bedroom, and when she lay down in her bed to go to sleep, the glittered light shone through the darkness outside of her room.

Sam closed her eyes and she thought about that mysterious man again with the streak in his hair, and he was the last thing on her mind before she fell asleep. No sooner had she fallen asleep when she woke up that Christmas morning. Christmas morning without anyone around her, but she had wished for it. Some time alone with her journal and her art before she went out to Ithaca with Belinda and Legacy.

Joey still had that canvas in the back seat of his car, or maybe he took it out and stashed it away somewhere in that apartment. She thought about Dan and his record player: she still had yet to play her copy of Spreading the Disease. She had to at the very least listen to it before they began work on their new album, whenever that would come about. As far as she knew, they were to make a new one once they returned home from the tour. But the question that rang through her mind until New Year's Eve itself was that of when.

When were Anthrax to head on into the studio for a new record on their part.

On that cold, snowy day, Belinda showed up to the curb in her little black car: she herself was wrapped up in a heavy black overcoat, and a fitted bright green sweatshirt. Her snake pendant twinkled under the bright white glare of the snow. Sam climbed into the passenger seat next to her, also in her black overcoat, and with those hockey gloves Joey had given her.

“So do you know the way?” Belinda asked her as they got rolling forth on the street.

“I sure do—I went there before last month with Eric and Greg. It's like—tucked away in the trees on one side of town.”

Belinda nodded and then she leaned back in the leopard print driver's seat with both hands on the wheel. Sam nestled down in the warmth of the seat next to her and tucked her hands into her pockets.

It was at that point Belinda started to feel more of a friend to her, as they wound their way through the trees and into the cold and barren upstate region. A blanket of fresh fallen snow covered everything, but she didn't seem too stressed about driving through that strip of bare dark road in that little car. The snow followed them all the way up to the Finger Lakes region, the dark waters of which appeared colder and blacker with the fresh new snow.

Within time, they reached Ithaca and Sam guided Belinda to that studio nestled back in the woods on the other side of town. Legacy's van was already posted up there outside the front ramp and the doorway, and Sam knew they had already made their way inside of there.

Eric bowed out of that door and he hesitated when he saw the car. Sam opened the front door and poked her head out to the frigid cold: he nodded at the sight of her.

“Oh, hey!” he called out to her, and he turned back to the doorway. “Sam's here—”

Belinda climbed out of the car next.

“—and she's brought a friend with her,” he added; their boots crunched over the snow there in the driveway. Belinda gave her blonde hair a slight toss back and Eric raised his eyebrows at her.

“Eric, this is Belinda Grimes,” Sam introduced her, “good friend of Marla and is gradually a good friend of mine.”

“The beautiful Belinda,” Eric declared.

“Or Bel as I go by,” Belinda herself added.

“I didn't want to come here by myself,” Sam explained as she shivered a bit under her coat, “'cause Aurora's back out in California to visit her parents, so I asked her to come along with me. She'll keep it all under wraps, though.”

“My lips are sealed.” Belinda made a twisting gesture over her lips.

“Well, good! Uh, well, c'mon in—it's freezing out here and we're letting all the warm air out.”

Sam and Belinda followed Eric inside of that front room, a narrow sparsely carpeted bright lit space that resembled to a closet than it did a foyer of sorts. To the left stood the actual studio itself: the door to the sound proof room on the other side of the pane of glass. Louie and his smoothed dark hair inside of that room; Greg had already slung his bass over his shoulder, and Eric himself was right in front of them. Nestled back in that hallway off to the left, Sam recognized his aquiline nose and his deep set eyes, but the little pearl of gray had gone away. He had buried it under the jet black curls about the crown of his head, right under those little bangs. Or so she believed: he nudged his bangs back a little bit and there was no sign of it. The grays were gone.

“What happened to the streak?” she asked him and those deep eyes seemed to slice right through her.

“Dyed it,” Alex replied, nonplussed. “I couldn't stand looking at it for any longer.”

“I kinda liked it,” she told him, to which he shrugged his shoulders.

“Yeah, I did, too,” Belinda added, even though she hadn't really met him before.

“It made me look old, though,” he said to them with his eyebrows knitted together. Even with the streak buried under the black dye, he still looked older than he actually was, even being eighteen years old, and with a round full face and smooth skin. He continued to frown at Sam.

“Hang on, Aurora's not here with you?” he asked her in a low voice.

“She's out in California visiting her parents. She should be back—I'm not sure when she'll be back, though. Belinda here'll keep everything that happens in here a secret, though.”

“Okay, okay—besides this is our first real big thing.” Alex fixated on Sam: there was something about those deep eyes, though. Something about them that drew her in: even with that streak hidden away under the black, she found herself wanting to move in closer to him. “If any mistakes happen, you've gotta tell her.”

“That's my job,” she assured him, and he kept his gaze on her for another couple of seconds before he turned away and headed into the sound proof room. Belinda turned to her with a frightened expression on her face.

“What's wrong?” Sam asked her.

“He's so precocious it's scary,” she whispered to Sam.

“That's what I said to Lars,” she confessed to her, also in a whisper. “Lars told me he's just really intelligent is all. Being smart ages you. He's really focused, too—it's kind of chilling, I'll admit it.”

She turned her attention to Eric right behind her, huddled right over a small black table with a big white sheet of paper taped on top. She stood right next to him for a look herself: it was a full schedule of the residencies there in that studio. On New Year's Day, they were to officially begin recording under the chosen name Legacy. Her eyes wandered down the page when she spotted a familiar name in the middle of January.

“Anthrax are gonna be here, too?” She was stunned.

“Yeah.” Eric hesitated and he showed her a baffled look. “Wait a minute. They didn't tell you?”

“No?”

“Well, let's see—it's written in pencil so they must've just allotted the studio time. We're written in pen so it's confirmed that we're here—but them... it looks like their dates were just added.”

“Wow! Another round of sit ins, I suppose?”

“If you'd like. You and Aurora work with the label after all.”

“Hey, Eric,” Louie called from the doorway, and he lifted his head.

“What's up?”

“Did you happen to get a hold of Chuck? Any chance at all?”

Eric shook his head. “He's supposed to be here like any minute, Lou. That's as far as I know.”

“Well, what do you think we should do?”

“Yeah, I don't really wanna be up here for a moot point,” Alex added: even tucked away in the far corner of the room, his voice was enormous, even from behind a sheet of glass and inside of an otherwise sound proof room. It even caught Sam by surprise.

“Well,” Eric started. “We're all here with our instruments, and with Sam and her friend here. Why don't we just jam together?”

“Don't see why not,” Louie replied with a shrug of his shoulders, and Eric padded over to him. He left the door ajar for Sam and Belinda to listen in for themselves. Tucked back in the far side of the room was the drum kit: Alex had taken his seat on a stool on the far side of the room with a little cherry red guitar cradled upon his lap. His jet black hair had more of a shine to it, too, and Sam could only assume he had ran the hair dye all throughout his hair.

“Watch this,” said Eric as he picked up a black flying V guitar which had already been plugged into the amp on the floor next to him. He took out the pick from the strings and he plucked those strings. Sam thought back to when Anthrax performed for her on that first day, but the riff he played made her think if they had played at a much quicker pace than they did in that room. His black hair spread across his face as he played that hard, rapid fire riff: so fast that it sent a chill up Sam's arms.

“Holy shit,” Belinda muttered. He slowed it down by half and not once did he look up at the two girls on the other side of the glass. That sound proof room filled with such a big wall of sound. A big wall of sound made by one man: Sam wanted to pick up a pair of headphones and let them record it right there, but she decided not to, especially when Eric jerked his hand back from the frets as if he had been burned.

“—like guarding a bridge,” Greg was saying.

“Pulled it!” Eric yelped.

“Pulled it out of your pussy,” Louie joked as he picked up his drum sticks.

“Pulled it out of my pussy, right,” Eric retorted with a straight face.

“Your pussy or your ass?”

“Both.”

“Your pussy or your dick?”

“Both. I have both, so—”

Alex then looked over at Sam from clear across the room: his deep set eyes gazed back at her as if he watched her every move. Deep and steely like brand new metal under a sheet of ice. They locked eyes for a moment, but it was long enough for her to think about that piece of rice paper in the bottom of the drawer. All the mentions in front of him sent his back closer towards the wall.

Indeed, he moved his gaze to the wall right behind him: his long lanky fingers moved about the upper part of the guitar neck. His guitar wasn't plugged in but Sam could tell he was playing something hard and fast. The drums tapped on the other side of the room, and Sam turned her attention to the kit there. Louie moved the sticks about for a drum roll, and he moved a little bit on the kick drums, but the cold in the room kept him from moving a lot. He stopped, and he reached down for a massage of his ankles with one hand.

“Got a problem, Lewis?” Greg asked him.

“Ankles are kinda sore.” He lifted his hand and sat upright. He turned his attention to Sam and Belinda for a few seconds, but then he scooped up his sticks again and he tried again with the snare right in front of him. He tried it again, and he stopped again for another ankle massage.

Sam lowered her gaze to his lap and those filmy black gym shorts. He lifted up again.

“Sorry—I've got an erection right now so I can't really do much more than that,” Louie said in a single breath and with a straight face.

“Damn, Lou's hungry right now,” Greg remarked.

“A couple of girls in the next room here,” Eric pointed out with a nod of his head.

“Nah—no, wait.”

Belinda burst out laughing; Sam chuckled a little bit herself but she wondered what Alex was doing right there at the far side of the room. He kept his head down, so his freshly cut bangs accentuated that sharp brow and those deep eyes. He moved his fingers about the neck and he was so tight with it. He moved about in silence, like a ghost, a slender little black haired ghost of a boy. Being smart aged him and yet, even as he was right there on the other side of the room, he still resembled to a young boy. Barely eighteen and he struck her as completely ageless.

She folded her arms over the edge of the panel in front of her. Something about the sheen on his black hair made her think of those ink drawings. Even though his guitar wasn't plugged in, she could hear the music he cranked out for them. A gentle faint plucking against the chatter right next to her. If only she could hear what he was playing for himself, and such that he

“You girls have yet to meet the other bands in this whole grand scheme of things, though,” Eric was telling Belinda. “Metallica, Megadeth, Anthrax, and Slayer—everyone is calling them the 'Big Four' because they're kind of the first ones to go to big labels. And then you have us, plus Overkill—Danny Spitz's old band—Exodus, Zetro's new band, and Death Angel—Sam met Death Angel at Cliff's memorial.”

“Not exactly,” Sam confessed, “I saw them but they wanted more lunch than anything.”

That brought a laugh out of both Louie and Greg. “The Big Four.” The name itself made Sam chuckle, but she paid more attention to Alex on the other side of the room. He seemed to be in a world of his own compared to them.

“So all you guys behind them are kind of like the little four,” Belinda told them.

“The little four?” Eric laughed at that.

“Yeah. Metallica, Megadeth, Anthrax, and Slayer are the big four—you guys, Overkill, Exodus, and Death Angel are the little four. The tier behind them. They're the big head honchos, and you guys are like the little ones holding them up like pillars or something.”

“The tiny four,” Louie quipped.

“The small fries,” Eric added.

“The little itty bitty four,” Belinda laughed.

“The four small dicks,” Greg quipped. “And the big four are the big four dicks.”

“That's a whole lot of dicks,” Eric added. “The big four dicks are the hot ones.”

“Who says the little dicks can't be hot, though?” Sam blurted out, and they all laughed out loud at that: Alex snapped his eyes shut and bowed his head. She had no idea if he was laughing at that but then he shook his hand about. He returned to the frets as if nothing happened.

“How's our lead doing?” Eric asked Alex, who finally raised his head a bit: the bangs still hid his eyes away from view.

“I'm just making it up as I go along,” he said, “I watched a Miles Davis concert on TV a couple of months ago and ever since then, I wanted to do what he was doing there.”

“Electric era or—?”

“Oh, yeah. Well, of course.” Alex gave the ringlets on the side of his head a slight nudge so it revealed his ear and the side of his neck. Something quite graceful about him. But then Belinda turned to Sam again.

“Yeah, he's really precocious.” But Sam frowned at that. So what if he was? The boy knew what he wanted out of laugh and that was to play his guitar and add something to the world. Indeed, Sam thought about her own artistry. To make something herself.

It may have been his jet black hair but she thought of herself as she watched him there. She thought of the first time she saw him up on stage, and how he seemed to paint with his fingers, and the guitar was his canvas. This boy was an artist and his playing there on the other side of the room only doubly confirmed that for her.

Meanwhile, Louie played a few drum grooves for them and he finally overcame the pains in his ankles all the while. Greg followed his lead and lay down a bassline for him: even without Eric and Alex with their guitars, their rhythms alone were enough to prove to both Sam and Belinda that they had such strong power. Sam thought about Chuck's powerful voice, and the night she and Cliff got to see them. It had been a full year since she and Cliff saw them in San Francisco, and she could still imagine Chuck there on stage as if it had just happened.

Within time, Eric joined in with that rapid fire riff and the three of them plowed forth. Alex finally leaned to the side and plugged in his guitar. The two girls on the other side of the glass watched the four young men, four artists in their prime, begin their very first master piece.

Sam recognized the song “Over the Wall” and she attempted to sing Zetro's shrill lyrics even though she only heard the song once before in L'Amour. But Alex's insistence on improvising extended it into this long elaborate jam session. At one point, he stood to his feet and strode about the room. He progressed high and low and every so often, he stepped on one of the pedals there on the floor for a different effect.

“Turning into the Grateful Dead in here,” Louie shouted in between tight drum beats.

They were in there for another half hour, and the three of them followed Alex's lead, until Eric returned to the door with the guitar slung over his back.

“We're gonna be here a while,” he told Sam.

“And Chuck's still not here yet,” she pointed out.

“And Chuck's still not here, right! And it's not like we're recording as of yet, either. I think you girls can go out and stretch your legs for a bit. Get yourselves something to eat. We are in Ithaca, after all. Not like we're going anywhere.”

“True.”

Sam then led Belinda back outside, where the clouds broke enough to show off the pure blue sky, but not enough to warrant sunshine over Finger Lakes. The cold of the snow felt so sharp after being in that warm room for so long; it was right then Sam started to feel hungry.

“There is just shit all to say,” she remarked as she walked to the driveway first. “It all speaks for itself.”

“It really does,” Belinda followed as she rubbed her hands together. “And how exciting, too! We're seeing these bands from the ground up.”

“Well, these guys are coming from the ground up, though. Anthrax has already put out a few albums, and Stormtroopers is kind of a spin off to them—but these guys are brand new, though. We're watching them start out fresh and new. We're watching Alex start out fresh and new.”

“Kind of makes you wish we could see Anthrax from the very beginning.” They stopped outside of her car.

“Well, that's really simple,” Sam explained. “Neither of us were here—well, I wasn't. You grew up down in Hell's Kitchen with Marla, and you guys hadn't met Charlie yet. The two of you grew up thirty minutes away from him and Frankie. So seeing them advanced along a bit, we started ahead in the watch process. So seeing these guys from the very beginning, we kind of have an idea as to what the future holds for them. Or least I do—I don't know about you, Bel.”

“Yeah, I've never really sat in with a band before. Charlie and I did hang out with that guy John—John Tempesta—when Charlie first met Marla, though.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. We were in this place in Brooklyn called the Iridium together and he bought us both a drink. Kind of an interesting night, though. We thought there were creatures coming out of the walls at one point.”

“Oh, my god.” Sam chuckled at that. She peered about the driveway for any signs of life. “I think we can just walk into town. We're literally right here.”

“But we're gonna have to walk through snow, though,” Belinda pointed out.

“Nah, we won't—besides, Bel, you're from New York. You're used to the cold.”

“Yeah, down in the city. Upstate is a whole other world.”

“Well, let's at least take a walk, though. It was getting kind of stuffy in there.”

Belinda let out a long low whistle and then she nodded her head, and she followed Sam to the end of the driveway. They stood there at the edge of the pavement, and there was a small cafe, to the right of them and up the street.

“Hey, there's Joey,” Belinda pointed out, and Sam's heart skipped a few beats. Sure enough, there Joey was on the other side of the pavement: his black curls streamed down his back and over a light red and white striped knit scarf wrapped around his neck, and he wore a fitted black peacoat so he appeared thinner and lankier than before. He waved and showed them a lopsided smile, and then he peered both ways before he crossed the street. Sam turned to Belinda yet again.

“Okay,” she began in a low voice, “if he asks us where we've been or why we're up here right now, tell him we just came here for New Year's.”

“Why?” Belinda frowned at that.

“He—” Sam peered behind her to ensure that Joey was still out of earshot. “He and Alex got into a fight a while back, and he's kind of vindicative about Legacy themselves.”

“Really?” Belinda raised her eyebrows at that.

“Yeah. It was insane, Bel. He and Alex got outside and he pushed him.”

“He pushed him?” Sam set a hand on her to get to keep her voice down. “But what if he asks why we're here by the studio, though? Especially with Anthrax coming here and whatnot.”

“Shit, I forgot about that! Um, let's just tell him that we're here to check the place out. And I'll tell you more about the pushing incident later on, too—” She stopped right in her tracks just as Joey strolled up to them with his hands on the lapels.

“Hey, you!” he greeted Sam.

“Hey, Joey,” she returned the favor.

“And Belinda,” he continued, “you're Belinda, right?”

“Little Bel, that's me,” she retorted. He craned his neck to the building behind them.

“What's all this?”

“Oh, it's the—studio that you and Anthrax are recording at,” Sam replied, and each word that left her lips felt as though she was having to force herself to say it.

“Oh, yeah, I remember this place,” said Joey. “Pyramid.” He stopped and he took another look. “Who else is here?”

“Maintenance,” Belinda filled in with haste and a clearing of her throat.

“Uh, yeah,” Sam added with even more haste, “—we just came over here to check it out. We really only came up here to Ithaca for New Year's.” She rubbed her nose. “What's up with you? What're you doing?”

“I just came here to see the place myself,” he answered as he lunged forward, but Sam and Belinda stepped in front of him.

“I don't think that's a good idea, Joey,” Sam assured him.

“Yeah—the place is kind of a mess,” Belinda joined in.

“Well, I at least wanna see the front door, though. Lived and did stuff in upstate my whole life and would you believe I've never been here before? And besides, why is your car here?”

“It's a good place to park,” Belinda said at a rapid clip. “We're coming right back for it, though. It's nothing to split hairs over.”

“Okay,” Joey said, reluctant and with a befuddled look on his face.

“Um, you wanna get something to eat?” Sam offered him.

“I just ate, thank you, though.”

“Shit—well, it's pretty cold out here—don't ya wanna go into that restaurant there?”

“We can't go in there?”

“It's a mess, Joey!” Sam exclaimed. “An absolute madhouse!”

“Hey, that song was a hit!” he said with a snap of his fingers.

“What song?”

“'Madhouse'! We got asked to make a music video for it—have you seen it?”

“I haven't, no.”

“Don't think I have, either,” Belinda added.

“Oh, man, I gotta show it to you girls. I hope that restaurant does have TVs in it—I'd like to show it to you both.” He wheeled around and stood there at the curb for a second: Sam and Belinda glanced at one another. The latter widened her eyes and let out a quiet sigh; the former opened her mouth but no sound came out. Joey then led them across the dark pavement to the low restaurant there on the other side, hugged by a few evergreen trees and some scraggly barren oak trees.

He held the door for them as they made their way inside. Warm and sweet with that aroma of coffee and fresh food: he led them to the counter where he took the seat closest to the register. Sam sat down at his left while Belinda took the spot to the left of her. Her eyes were still wide with fear.

“That was close,” she mouthed, to which Sam nodded her head. Joey then turned to them once again.

“Did Cliff ever tell you his fascination with pancakes?” he asked Sam in a low voice.

“I don't think he ever did,” she confessed.

“Oh. Well—” Joey pointed to the silvery counter in front of them, and the plate of pancakes slathered in syrup and melted butter which awaited to be taken to a nearby table. “—just looking at that fat stack of pancakes right there in front of us made me think of his obsession with pancakes.” Sam chuckled at that.

She and Belinda both asked for cups of coffee, but neither of them knew what they wanted to eat. It was the first time in a long time Sam had gone some place and she had no idea as to what she wanted. The thought of Cliff obsessing over pancakes made her curious. There was so much to him that she still didn't know about.

Cried all her tears and yet she still missed him. It was almost too much to bear, especially when she thought about Alex in that room. He and Cliff were both artists in their prime. Both artists, both unknowns to her, and yet they both felt so close to her.

“Excuse me,” she finally said at one point: she could feel the firm lump coming to fruition in her throat. She ducked into the hallway around the corner to make it look as though she was headed into the bathrooms. But she lingered there outside of the ladies' room, right next to the door, and the tears made their way forth. She flashed back on the sight of Louie behind that drum kit, and the memory of the five of them in the park so as to honor Cliff: he recognized Zelda almost immediately, even in the tapestry of total darkness, and she could only wonder what was happening between them. He hit those drums rather hard: maybe seeing her there opened something in him. She had no idea.

The mention of Cliff did something to her however. She brought her hands to her face to hide the tears away from prying eyes, but she couldn't cry. No tears to be found in there.

“Sam?” Joey's upstate accent caught her ear and she lifted her head for a look at him there at the far end of the hall. The lopsided grin had given way to a look of concern on his handsome face. He strode closer to her for a better look at her.

“You okay?” he asked her in a gentle voice, to which she bowed her head and kept silent. “Are you alright?”

She still didn't answer.

“That statement was in poor taste, I know,” he said in a near whisper.

“What statement?” she asked him as she raised her gaze to him; he stood right in front of her, and he stood so close to her that she could smell the soft cologne on the side of his neck.

“The whole thing with the pancakes. I just—I know how you miss Cliff so much.”

“I do, I do—but I swear it's not you, though,” she assured him.

“Oh. I just saw you run down here and I could only guess that it was 'cause of that.”

“I just—I have my moments,” she confessed to him. “I have moments where I miss him more than anything in the world.”

She gazed up at him, right into those deep brown eyes. As brown and soft as the earth, the very earth that Cliff had returned to. They locked eyes for a few seconds, but it was enough.

“Joey—” she started.

“What?” He then paused and she pursed her lips together. Her mind went blank, but then he showed her the first bit of that grin yet again.

“Remember when you were in my place and you made that joke about kissin' me?” he recalled in a soft voice.

“How could I forget?”

“Not gonna lie—I think about doin' that.” He raised his eyebrows at her.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Absolutely. All the time.”

“So—what're you saying?”

He nibbled on his bottom lip and he dropped his gaze to her mouth.

“I didn't have someone to kiss under the mistletoe back on Christmas,” he told her in the huskiest voice she ever heard.

“I didn't, either,” she added.

“And I don't have someone to kiss when the ball drops tonight.”

“Who says we have to have a New Year's kiss, though?”

“Good point.” He paused again, and again with a nibble of his bottom lip. “Just an idea.” He nodded his head back for her to go back out to the restaurant. “Run along—I gotta use the little boys' room.” And with that, Sam bowed out in front of him and she rounded the corner: Belinda still stayed seated at the counter and with a cup of coffee in front of her. But on the far side of the room, Sam noticed the four of them clustered into a booth. She kept going towards them.

“Hey! What're you guys doing here?”

“Remember when Greg made a flippant comment about Louie being hungry?” Eric said to her as he looked up at her like a prince.

“Vaguely.”

“Well, as it turns out, the bunch of us are, too.”

“Well, Joey's here with me and Bel, so you might wanna keep things down.” She made a lowering gesture with her hands and brought her voice down a bit.

“Not a problem,” he assured her with a shake of his head. “Alex is a lover not a fighter anyways.”

“I fight when I feel like it,” Alex himself pointed out as he took a sip of ice water. Sam hoped Joey wouldn't see them there as she returned to Belinda at the counter: and even with the pancakes gone, she still couldn't shake the firm feeling from her throat. First New Year's alone and without Cliff.