#it also serves as an alarm but it can cut out sometimes at night so itd be smart to have an actual alarm set on your phone.

[rottedbrainz]

Guys...

why is pokemon sleep so adorable!?!?!

Like this is the professor and he is so freakin cute!!! His little Snorlax Sleeping mask makes me kinda jealous ngl. I just want to pinch his cheeks!!!

Not to mention all the sleepy pokemon! Here's a collection of the my favorites so far! Like just look at Wabbuffet! His sleep type is called tail tucked in how cute is that?!

And Riolu!? Curled up in a ball like that is exactly how I want to sleep.

And probably my favorite thing of all is the fact that every night when you go to sleep Snorlax waves you good night 😢.

You know. After he eats dinner of course.

[manwalksintobar]

R.I.P., My Love (part i) // Tory Dent

Let us be apart then like the panoptical chambers in IC patient X and patient Y, our names magic markered hurriedly on cardboard and taped pell-mell to the sliding glass doors, "Mary", "Donald", "Tory"; an indication that our presence there would prove beyond temporary, like snow flurry. Our health might be regained if aggressive medical action were taken, or despite these best efforts, lost like missing children in the brambles of poor fortune.  The suffering of another's I can only envision through the mimesis of my own, the alarming monitor next door in lieu of a heartbeat signifying cardiac arrest,  prompts a scurry of interns and nurses, their urgent footsteps to which I listen, inert and prostrate, as if subject to the ground tremors of  a herd of buffalo or horses, just a blur in the parched and post-nuclear distance. I listen, perhaps the way the wounded will listen to the continuing war,  so different sounding than before, the assault of noise now deflected against consciousness rather than serving as motivation for patriotism and targets.  Like fistfuls of dirt loaded with pebbles and rocks thrown at my front door, I knew that the footsteps would soon be running to me also. The blood pressure cuff swaddled around my arm pumped in its diastolic state independently like an iced organ ready for transplant as I witnessed with one circular rove of my eyes my body now dissected into television sets, like one of those asymmetrical structures  that serves as a model for a molecular unity in elementary science classes. And the plastic bags of IV fluids that hung above me, a Miró-like mobile or iconic toy  for an infant's amusement, measured the passing of time by virtue of their depletion.  Sometimes I could count almost five and then seven swinging vaguely above me at 4 am. I remember the first, hand-held high above me when I arrived via ambulance at the ER, the gurney accelerating as a voice exclaims on the color of my hands "they're blue!".  Another voice (deeper) virtually yells out into the chaos that she can't get a pulse. Several pairs of scissors begin simultaneously to cut off my clothes, their shears working their way upward like army ants from pant cuff and shirt-sleeve,  a formulaic move for the ER staff which, despite its routine, still retains a sense of impromptu in the hurriedness of the cutting both deft and crude, in the sound of their increased breathing, of their efforts intensified by my blood  pressure dropping, the numbers shouted out as if into night fog and ocean. It's not a lack of professionalism but the wager of emotional investment that I feel. One attendant, losing her aplomb for a moment, can't contain herself from remarking  (as if I'm already post-mortem) on what a great bra I have; "Stretch lace demi-cup, Victoria's Secret," I respond politely in my head.

[littlemixnet]

To me, a good ally is someone who is consistent in their efforts – there’s a difference between popping on a pride playlist or sprinkling yourself in rainbow glitter once a year and actually defending LGBT+ people against discrimination. It means showing my LGBT+ fans that I support them wholeheartedly and am making a conscious effort to educate myself, raise awareness and show up whenever they need me to. It would be wrong of me to benefit from the community as a musician without actually standing up and doing what I can to support. As someone in the public eye, it’s important to make sure your efforts are not performative or opportunistic. I’m always working on my allyship and am very much aware that I’ve still got a lot of unlearning and learning to do. There are too many what I call ‘dormant allies’, believing in equality but not really doing more than liking or reposting your LGBT+ mate’s content now and again. Imagine if that friend then saw you at the next march, or signing your name on the next petition fighting for their rights? Being an ally is also about making a conscious effort to use the right language and pronouns, and I recently read a book by Glennon Doyle who spoke of her annoyance and disappointment of those who come out and are met with ‘We love you…no matter what’. I’d never thought of that expression like that before and it really struck a chord with me. ‘No matter what’ suggests you are flawed. Being LGBT+ is not a flaw. Altering your language and being conscious of creating a more comfortable environment for your LGBT+ family and friends is a good start. Nobody is expecting you to suddenly know it all, I don’t think there’s such a thing as a perfect ally. I’m still very much learning. Even recently, after our Confetti music video I was confronted with the fact that although we made sure our video was incredibly inclusive, we hadn’t brought in any actual drag kings. Some were frustrated, and they had every right to be. You can have the right intentions and still fall short. As an open ally I should have thought about that, and I hadn’t, and for that I apologise. Since then I’ve been doing more research on drag king culture, because it’s definitely something I didn’t know enough about, whether that was because it isn’t as mainstream yet mixed with my own ignorance. But the point is we mess up, we apologise, we learn from it and we move forward with that knowledge. Don’t let the fear of f**king up scare you off. And make sure you are speaking alongside the community, not for the community. Growing up in a small Northern working-class town, some views were, and probably still are, quite ‘old fashioned’ and small-minded. I witnessed homophobia at an early age. It was a common thought particularly among men that it was wrong to be anything but heterosexual. I knew very early on I didn’t agree with this, but wasn’t educated or aware enough on how to combat it. I did a lot of performing arts growing up and within that space I had many LGBT+ (mainly gay) friends. I’ve been a beard many a time let me tell you! But it was infuriating to see friends not feel like they could truly be themselves. When I moved to London I felt incredibly lonely and like I didn’t fit in. It was my gay friends (mainly my friend and hairstylist, Aaron Carlo) who took me under their wing and into their world. Walking into those gay bars or events like Sink The Pink, it was probably the first time I felt like I was in a space where everyone in that room was celebrated exactly as they are. It was like walking into a magical wonderland. I got it. I clicked with everyone. My whole life I struggled with identity – being mixed race for me meant not feeling white enough, or black enough, or Arab enough. I was a ‘tomboy’ and very nerdy. I suppose on a personal level that maybe played a part in why I felt such a connection or understanding of why those spaces for the LGBT+ community are so important. One of the most obvious examples of first realising Little Mix was having an effect in the community was that I couldn’t enter a gay bar without hearing a Little Mix song and watching numerous people break out into full choreo from our videos! I spent the first few years of our career seeing this unfold and knowing the LGBT+ fan base were there, but it wasn’t until I got my own Instagram or started properly going through Twitter DMs that I realised a lot of our LGBT+ fans were reaching out to us on a daily basis saying how much our music meant to them. I received a message from a boy in the Middle East who hadn’t come out because in his country homosexuality is illegal. His partner tragically took their own life and he said our music not only helped him get through it, but gave him the courage to start a new life somewhere else where he could be out and proud. There are countless other stories like theirs, which kind of kickstarted me into being a better ally. Another standout moment would be when we performed in Dubai in 2019. We were told numerous times to ‘abide by the rules’, which meant not promoting anything LGBT+ or too female-empowering (cut to us serving a four-part harmony to Salute). In my mind, we either didn’t go or we’d go and make a point. When Secret Love Song came on, we performed it with the LGBT+ flag taking up the whole screen behind us. The crowd went wild, I could see fans crying and singing along in the audience and when we returned it was everywhere in the press. I saw so many positive tweets and messages from the community. It made laying in our hotel rooms s**tting ourselves that we’d get arrested that night more than worth it. It was through our fans and through my friends I realised I need to be doing more in my allyship. One of the first steps in this was meeting with the team at Stonewall to help with my ally education and discussing how I could be using my platform to help them and in turn the community. Right now, and during lockdown, I’d say my ally journey has been a lot of reading on LGBT+ history, donating to the right charities and raising awareness on current issues such as the conversion therapy ban and the fight for equality of trans lives. Stonewall is facing media attacks for its trans-inclusive strategies and there is an alarming amount of seemingly increasing transphobia in the UK today and we need to be doing more to stand with the trans community. Still, there is definitely a pressure I feel as someone in the public eye to constantly be saying and doing the right things, especially with cancel culture becoming more popular. I s**t myself before most interviews now, on edge that the interviewer might be waiting for me to ‘slip up’ or I might say something that can be misconstrued. Sometimes what can be well understood talking to a journalist or a friend doesn’t always translate as well written down, which has definitely happened to me before. There’ve been moments where I’ve (though well intentioned) said the wrong thing and had an army of Twitter warriors come at me. Don’t get me wrong, there are obviously more serious levels of f**king up that are worthy of a cancelling. But it was quite daunting to me to think that all of my previous allyship could be forgotten for not getting something right once. When that’s happened to me before I’ve scared myself into thinking I should STFU and not say anything, but I have to remember that I am human, I’m going to f**k up now and again and as long as I’m continuing to educate myself to do better next time then that’s OK. I’m never going to stop being an ally so I need to accept that there’ll be trickier moments along the way. I think that might be how some people may feel, like they’re scared to speak up as an ally in case they say the wrong thing and face backlash. Just apologise to the people who need to be apologised to, and show that you’re doing what you can to do better and continue the good fight. Don’t burden the community with your guilt. When it comes to the music industry, I’m definitely seeing a lot more LGBT+ artists come through and thrive, which is amazing. Labels, managements, distributors and so forth need to make sure they’re not just benefiting from LGBT+ artists but show they’re doing more to actually stand with them and create environments where those artists and their fans feel safe. A lot of feedback I see from the community when coming to our shows is that they’re in a space where they feel completely free and accepted, which I love. I get offered so many opportunities to do with LGBT+ based shows or deals and while it’s obviously flattering, I turn most of them down and suggest they give the gig to someone more worthy of that role. But really, I shouldn’t have to say that in the first place. The fee for any job I do take that feels right for me but has come in as part of the community goes to LGBT+ charities. That’s not me blowing smoke up my own arse, I just think the more of us and big companies that do that, the better. We need more artists, more visibility, more LGBT+ mainstream shows, more shows on LGBT+ history and more artists standing up as allies. We have huge platforms and such an influence on our fans – show them you’re standing by them. I’ve seen insanely talented LGBT+ artist friends in the industry who are only recently getting the credit they deserve. It’s amazing but it’s telling that it takes so long. It’s almost expected that it will be a tougher ride. We also need more understanding and action on the intersectionality between being LGBT+ and BAME. Racism exists in and out of the community and it would be great to see more and more companies in the industry doing more to combat that. The more we see these shows like Drag Race on our screens, the more we can celebrate difference. Ever since I was a little girl, my family would go to Benidorm and we’d watch these glamorous, hilarious Queens onstage; I was hooked. I grew up listening to and loving the big divas – Diana Ross (my fave), Cher, Shirley Bassey, and all the queens would emulate them. I was amazed at their big wigs, glittery overdrawn make-up and fabulous outfits. They were like big dolls. Most importantly, they were unapologetically whoever the f**k they wanted to be. As a shy girl who didn’t really understand why the world was telling me all the things I should be, I almost envied the queens but more than anything I adored them. Drag truly is an art form, and how incredible that every queen is different; there are so many different styles of drag and to me they symbolise courage and freedom of expression. Everything you envisioned your imaginary best friend to be, but it’s always been you. There’s a reason why the younger generation are loving shows like Drag Race. These kids can watch this show and not only be thoroughly entertained, but be inspired by these incredible people who are unapologetically themselves, sharing their touching stories and who create their own support systems and drag families around them. Now and again I think of when I’d see those Queens in Benidorm, and at the end they’d always sing I Am What I Am as they removed their wigs and smudged their make up off, and all the dads would be up on their feet cheering for them, some emotional, like they were proud. But that love would stop when they’d go back home, back to their conditioned life where toxic heteronormative behaviour is the status quo. Maybe if those same men saw drag culture on their screens they’d be more open to it becoming a part of their everyday life. I’ll never forget marching with Stonewall at Manchester Pride. I joined them as part of their young campaigners programme, and beforehand we sat and talked about allyship and all the young people there asked me questions while sharing some of their stories. We then began the march and I can’t explain the feeling and emotion watching these young people with so much passion, chanting and being cheered by the people they passed. All of these kids had their own personal struggles and stories but in this environment, they felt safe and completely proud to just be them. I knew the history of Pride and why we were marching, but it was something else seeing what Pride really means first hand. My advice for those who want to use their voice but aren’t sure how is, just do it hun. It’s really not a difficult task to stand up for communities that need you. Change can happen quicker with allyship.

Jade Thirlwall on the power, and pressures, of being an LGBT ally: ‘I’m gonna f**k up now and again’

[calaofnoldor]

Drug of Choice

Characters: Dean x Reader (gender neutral)

Words: 3,790

Summary: A night of drunken rambling leads to an unexpected change in your relationship status.

Warnings: angst, language, alcohol, feelings of inadequacy, very slight allusions of alcoholism/talk of drug addiction, reader likes the sound of their voice a bit too much when drunk, fluff, implied smut

A/N: written for @deanwanddamons 1st blogiversary and 2k follower celebration challenge! my prompt was “I wish I knew how to quit you“ which is bolded in the fic. congrats on the incredible milestone, sorry this is late! also for @spnfluffbingo and it fills the mood board square for @girl-next-door-writes‘ Make Me Feel Bingo challenge!

Square Filled: Kissed to Keep Quiet

MASTERLIST

It was four in the morning when Dean finally came home, and the bottle of Jack Daniels that sat before you atop the library table was over a quarter of the way through.

The heavy thud of his boots against the bunker floor drew your dark-adjusted eyes toward his shadowy figure, while the alcohol in your bloodstream loosened your lips, "How was she?"

"Jesus- Fuck!" There was a slight commotion before the lights flickered on, forcing your eyes to shut against the onslaught of sudden brightness. "Y/N??” Dean’s gruff, alarmed voice shattered the previously eerie silence, “What the hell are you doing sitting in the dark by yourself?"

Your eyelids lifted an experimental sliver but you kept your gaze directed down at the glass of whiskey in your hands. "It wasn't dark when I started."

Dean narrowed his eyes when he noticed the slur behind your words. "Started what? Are you drunk?"

His second question prompted a dismissive snort from you, "Hunters can't get drunk; you should know that by now, Dean."

"Yeah alright, we need to get you to bed." The man of your dreams began to make his way over to you until your gravelly words ceased his steps.

"I can't sleep... you haven't answered my question yet."

"What question?"

"How was she?"

"Who?"

You looked at him like he was crazy, "You know, the girl from the bar, the one with the curly hair… the one that was climbing onto your lap when I left?"

"I don't- there was no girl," Dean stumbled. His lips were parted and his eyebrows pulled together in an ever-gorgeous expression of bewilderment, but you were too busy examining the way the newfound light danced along the lustrous amber liquid between your fingers to notice.

"Oh," you grumbled in response, sounding a bit disappointed, which only served to deepen those adorable lines of confusion between Dean’s brows. "She sure was pretty though.” There was a pause as you pondered his declaration before blurting out in disbelief, “You really didn't fuck her in the back of Baby?"

"What- No! Y/N, there was never a girl and nothing happened, OK?" He sounded genuinely serious, so you conceded.

"I'm sorry."

"Why- why are you sorry?"

"I know you needed to blow off some steam after today, after I pissed you off by fucking up the hunt." You ventured a glance up at him through your lashes and the unadulterated pain in your eyes almost had Dean reeling back in surprise.

"What are you talking about? You didn't 'fuck up' the hunt," he argued, shaking his head as if to accentuate his point.

"Course I did. I got you hurt and I nearly let that dickbag get away."

A weighted sigh escaped Dean, "Y/N, you have to know that wasn’t your fault, and it’s not like you haven’t done the same thing for me. Besides, I wasn’t pissed off, I was... I was scared, OK?”

You were about to take another sip of your drug of the night when you lowered your glass to let the irrepressible giggle leave your system, “Scared? Since when does the big bad Dean Winchester get scared? And if he did, he definitely wouldn’t be talking about it out loud. Are you sure you’re not the one who’s been drinking?”

“I mean, I have been drinking but that’s beside the point. Look, Y/N, why don’t we talk about this tomorrow, alright? You’ve just gotta sleep this off.”

"Pft. This isn't something I can just sleep off. Trust me, I've tried." There was a tickle in your throat that alerted you of the oncoming word vomit, but your friend Mr. Daniels seemed to be gaining complete control of your tongue; it was all he was ever good for really, “I’ve also tried drinking it away, but clearly that doesn’t work either. There’s just- so much- of it, of you… and now, now you’re in me-“ Dean’s eyes went wide but you were no longer at liberty to stop, “and I can’t get you out. Sometimes I don’t even think I want to. But I don’t think I can keep going like this any longer either… all this waiting, and wondering, and watching.” Some fragment of sobriety within you recognized how ridiculous and melodramatic you sounded and it gave you enough sense to avoid eye contact with the subject of you’re alcohol-induced speech, as if that could help you elude further embarrassment.

“OK, you’ve gotta slow down, Y/N/N. What the hell are you talking about?” At this point, Dean had moved to take the seat across from you, subtly sliding the bottle of Jack out of your reach as he sat down.

A mirthless laugh was your reply, "Of course you don’t know. Why would you?“

“What does that mean? Why wouldn’t I? Y/N, what’s going on?”

But you ignored his questions and answered with one of your own, “Why am I never enough? You know what, don't answer that; that was a rhetor- rhetor…”

“Rhetorical?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed, flailing your index finger in his direction, “Yes, that’s the word. See, even your brain is too good for me.”

“What- why would you say that? Y/N, you know that’s not true. And why do you think you’re never enough? You’re plenty enough.” Concern now painted Dean’s features. He hated seeing you this way, broken and depressed, trying to drown your feelings in whiskey; he’d figured that was his trademark amongst the bunker residents. And he couldn’t understand how someone as incredible as you would think themselves unworthy of anything. Whichever son of a bitch made you feel this way would pay, Dean swore it.

“Then how come you never pick me?” you countered simply, deciding it was finally time to call out his hypocrisy.

The accusation floored Dean. He scooted back in his seat as he stared at you with a slack jaw, utter perplexity swirling within his emerald eyes. Over the years, Dean had garnered an inkling that you felt some kinda way about him, but he never really let himself believe, and not once did he think he could be hurting you. On the contrary, he always figured it was his own hopeful heart playing tricks on him. Even now, he wasn’t entirely sure he was hearing you correctly, or that your drunken state could be trusted, though he remembered you once told him that you were always the most honest version of yourself when you drank, whiskey in particular.

“I watch you go out with waitress after bartender after waitress, but I’ve been here the whole time, and you never consider me. It’s like I don’t even exist, like I’m not even an option, like I could never even help you scratch that itch, at least not as good as any barfly across the Midwest could.” You were aware that this was getting out of hand, but you couldn’t seem to find the brakes. “But that’s not even the real problem – I mean, sure, a roll around the hay with you would probably be mind-blowing as fuck – but it would never solve the root of it, never be enough for me.”

Dean had been studying you meticulously as you spoke, your words starting a fire to the embers of his soul, breathing life into a long-forgotten hope that brought him both joy and fear. “What would? Be enough for you, I mean?” His tone took on a raw sultriness that matched the intense, borderline predatory glaze of his eyes. Needless to say, Dean hadn’t expected your sardonic laughter to fill the air, and your sudden frenzied, carefree state certainly took him off guard.

“Nothing!” you laughed, “I don’t think anything will ever be enough for me! C-cause you’re like this drug that I’m hooked on and it’s just so fucking hard to get off… I mean, it’s also hard to get off without you now, or thoughts of you anyway...” Your tangent was quickly overcome when you remembered the topic of your initial spiel, “But it’s like everything about you draws me in! From the way you reference classic literature even though I’ve never seen you pick up a book that’s not about lore, to the way you rebuild Baby from scratch like it’s no big deal, to the way you’re so good with kids even though you never got to be one yourself, to the dumb way you bottle up all your feelings and never let them see the light of day yet still manage to do so much good in the world, t-to the way you get excited over classic rock and crappy horror movies and pie, and don’t even get me started on the way you love Sam! I mean, it’s just all of it! It’s your strength and perseverance through literal hell, it’s your huge fucking heart despite the mask of swagger and charm, it’s that stupid grin you get when you make a dumb joke and Sam rolls his eyes at you, it’s just those god damn lips in general! And then you walk around looking like that!?” you gestured wildly at all of him, “I mean, who gave you the right?!”

Dean looked like he was about to respond, but you cut him off. There really was no stopping your tirade now, “I’m like an addict who can never get enough, and when you leave, I get feelings of withdrawal, and I don’t know how to fucking deal with those either… You’re so deeply ingrained in me; I don’t think I’ll ever be able to flush you out of my system. And I just-“ you took a rare pause to heave a large breath before admitting quietly, “I wish I knew how to quit you. I really do, because as much as I love you, and trust me, it’s a whole fucking lot – God, does it feel good to finally say that out loud – but for every ounce of love that I have for you, for every bit of you that I’ve inhaled, it hurts just as much. Because you don’t feel the same, and you never will, and I don’t blame you, because you’re Dean fucking Winchester and you could have whoever you want with just a wink and half a smile, and you deserve to have whoever you want-”

“Are you done?” Dean was quick to latch onto the brief respite in your monologue, “Fuck, Y/N, you really have no idea what you do to me, do you? What you are to me?” His head shook in disbelief while his troubled green eyes searched yours.

“What I am to you? I’m your hunting buddy, Dean. The one you call when you need an extra hand with a vamp nest or an extra set of eyes to scour the books, the one who stays up with you when you have nightmares about the souls you tortured in hell, the one you sing rock songs out of tune in the car with, just never the one you go to for a booty call,” you finished with a bitter laugh.

Dean’s head had never ceased it’s shaking, even as he got up and walked around the table towards you. “Only because you’re worth so much more than that. Y/N, you deserve so much more than me.”

It was your turn to shake your head. How typical, you thought as you rolled your eyes and stood up to meet his eye line, “Don’t give me that bullshit, Dean. I know you’re trying to let me down easy and that’s nice of you and all, but you can’t fool me. I know you too well, Dean Winchester, and I know there’s no way in hell that- Mmf!“ The rest of your words were intercepted by Dean’s lips on yours.

The feeling was unexpected but not at all unwelcome. There was an urgent force behind the kiss as he pushed his mouth against yours with gentle yet firm ferocity, bracing your head with large hands cupping both sides. It felt as if he was desperately trying to convey a message to you, to disprove your woeful words of self-pity, or perhaps he just wanted you to shut up. You, of course, responded with tremendous enthusiasm regardless of his intent, grasping blindly at his forearms while slotting your tongue and lips around his in an increasingly frantic manner. You didn’t care if the kiss wasn’t good for him; this might be your only chance to take what you need from Dean Winchester, if only a tiny fraction of it.

When he finally pulled back, you were both panting for air. Dean still held your head in both hands as he leaned forward to rest his forehead upon yours. “Dammit, I shouldn’t have done that; you’re drunk... Do you at least believe me now?”

A slight grimace contorted Dean’s features as his mind was suddenly bombarded by a multitude of conflicted thoughts and feelings, feelings of desire and regret and bliss and unease, but when he caught the dazed look in your eyes, Dean made up his mind, “Ah, what the hell, you’re probably not gonna remember much of this anyway. Look, Y/N, you’re wrong. I do feel the same way about you; I have pretty much ever since I saw that magnificent ass of yours.” Pausing to chuckle at his own words, Dean licked his lips, still able to taste the whiskey from yours.

“The only reason I fucked around with those other people was because I couldn’t stand not being able to have you,” he continued through closed eyes and gritted teeth before filling his chest with a deep breath, “Like today, when I saw that fucking werewolf come at you, I nearly lost it. The thought of anything happening to you scares me shitless, and I didn’t know how to process that feeling, so I let that girl at the bar get close. I was trying to fill the hole you created but it was pointless cause in the end, just like every other time, I couldn’t go through with it. Every time I try to forget about you, your face shows up in my head,” he growled in that low, throaty tone that always seemed to reverberate down to your nether regions.

“But I- I wasn’t lying when I said you deserve more than me. Y/N, you know me. I’m a broken, twisted, shell of a man. I’m-“

“Poison, I know,” you finally lifted your head away from his so that you could look directly into his dazzling eyes. Dean’s hands slid down along your neck and landed on your shoulders while yours remained on his forearms, not willing to lose all contact. “I know what you’re gonna say. You think you’re poison, that being with you puts a target on my back, that loving you is a death sentence… Did I get that right?”

Dean gave you a miniscule nod and a look of resignation as he reluctantly released you from his hold, forcing you to let go as well when he took a large step back. You suddenly felt extremely sober, the effects of the alcohol and that kiss all wearing off instantaneously, “And you hate yourself. No one hates you more than you, Dean.” Your voice was hardly a whisper now, “But that’s OK, cause I hate myself too, for never being able to make you realize that you are so much more than you give yourself credit for, that you deserve all the things you think you can’t have, that you can have them all and still be Dean Winchester.”

You watched as Dean’s eyes began to water and when a single tear rolled down his cheek, you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. Approaching him as slowly as you would a nervous animal out of its natural habitat, you stopped directly before him before cautiously raising your arm to wipe the offending tear away with your thumb. Your eyes seemed to be locked in a silent exchange of colossal magnitude, expressing everything mere words could not, from harrowing regret to agonizing self-inflicted torment to desperate desire. It was the yearning in his shimmering eyes that gave you the courage to speak your next words, a runaway tear of your own joining the whispered plea, “Please, let me show you.”

When your eyes fluttered open the next day, they were greeted with the most beautiful sight you'd ever awoken to. Dean’s face was barely a foot away from yours, and the man himself was already awake, staring directly at you. He was lying on his back with his head turned towards you, while your body was twisted to face his. A bedside lamp was on, allowing you to marvel at the breathtaking perfection in front of you, and despite the booze having long since evacuated from your veins, your mouth still imparted the first thing that came to your mind, “You know, I've always wanted to count your freckles,” you murmured honestly, “Maybe map them out like tiny constellations so I can memorize them better, so that one day I could trace them even with my eyes closed.” Your fingertips moved of their own accord as you spoke, gliding softly over his cheeks and across the ridge of his perfect nose.

Dean caught your hand in his and kissed it repeatedly as his magical olive eyes continued to bore into yours, never once leaving your face. His pouty lips curved into the slightest smile as if he were afraid to rear hope yet couldn't fight the peaceful thrill you were bringing him by simply lying next to him. “You’re not still drunk, are you?”

“Not unless it counts to be drunk on you… Sorry, that sounded a lot less cheesy in my head.” You cringed but Dean’s smile broadened.

“And no hangover?”

“No, I told you, hunters can’t-“

“Get drunk. Yeah, I heard. So does that mean you remember everything?”

“I don’t think I could forget that kiss if I wanted to; my brain wouldn’t let me.” You glanced down at his gorgeous mouth before meeting his gaze again, “I meant it all, you know? Everything I said was the truth. Every word.” You moved your thumb to graze his lower lip and he puckered his lips to kiss it.

“So did I, every word… Especially the part about that sweet ass of yours.” The hand that wasn’t holding yours roamed down to grab at your butt cheek with a hefty yet tender squeeze, causing you to squeal in delight. When you settled down, he moved your hand to place it above his heart, “You know I’m no good at chick flick moments, but you can trust me when I say I’m addicted to you too.”

The sincerity in his voice sent butterflies through your stomach and your smile felt invincible. “I hope you know that when I called you a ‘drug’ I didn’t mean it in a derogatory way. Some drugs are good for you. Some drugs can save your life,” you whispered as you fisted lightly at the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

“I wouldn’t go that far, sweetheart.”

“Isn’t that what you did yesterday?” Dean was about to retort but you sent him a raised brow and a look that said ‘don’t test me, I’ve got loads more evidence where that came from’ so he simply looked down with a small grin. “Does it still hurt?” You motioned to the white bandage on his shoulder where the werewolf had scratched him up yesterday when he jumped in front of you.

Dean shook his head, “Right now I can hardly feel it. Actually, it hasn’t hurt at all since I kissed you.”

The corners of your mouth lifted some more at his words. “See, that’s what I mean. To me, you’re like coffee on an early morning, morphine when I’m hurting, tranquilizers when I’m freaking out, Zoloft when the world’s got me down, mixed with a shot of ecstasy, and quite possibly the most potent form of Viagra known to mankind.” You might have lingered a moment to chuckle at your own joke, thinking ‘it’s funny cause it’s true’. Dean belted a guffaw himself and you were quite pleased as you continued, “You’re everything I’ve ever needed, all wrapped up in one beautiful, self-loathing man.” You stroked his stubbled jaw and caressed his cheek, letting your words waft softly across the distance between you, hoping he could sense the veracity within them, “And I just want you to let me love you, let me get high on you, so I can show you how good you are. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

A wave a sadness flowed through Dean and he lowered his gaze from yours. “This could end bloody.”

“I know,” you nodded, “But it’s so much better than the alternative... It was getting a bit too hard to bear, even if you were only eye fucking all those other suitors. Besides, if it means I get to kiss you whenever I want, it’ll be worth it. And if it means I get a chance to prove to you how worthy you are, then it’ll be more than worth it.”

“I was only staying away because I wanted to protect you from me, but I didn’t realize it was hurting you. I never wanted to cause you pain; Y/N, I need you to know that.” Dean’s warm, calloused palm ran up your arm, it’s gentleness in stark contrast to his fierce tone, while yours continued to cup his cheek.

Astounded by the passion behind his words and the utter beauty of his face, you whispered in awe, “How are you so perfect?” Seeing the cogs begin to turn in his brain, you quickly moved your index finger to press against his plush lips, “Shh, just let me say it. Baby steps, Dean.”

He took your finger and guided your arm to wrap around his wide shoulders, careful of his injury, then reached out to pull you snugly towards him until your bodies were completely flush, your chest heaving against his. “Well do we have to take baby steps with everything? Cause now that I’ve finally got you in my bed, I was kinda hoping you’d let me take you for a spin in it. Maybe find out if it’s really – how did you put it again? – ‘mind blowing as fuck’ I believe were your words?” That signature smirk of his that always brought you to your knees came out to play.

Your laughter fanned across his face, and the smile on your face was effervescent, “You really are one hell of a drug, Dean Winchester.”

thank you for reading! as always, feedback is marvelously appreciated!

TEAM IDJITS: @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @carryonmywaywardbucky​ @swiftlymoniquesblog​ @moosewinchester​ @sams-sass​ @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ @jotink78​ @winifrede​ @writingforthelonelysoul​

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[exuberantocean]

So the start of a sequel to the now 39k+ wip I’m working on came to mind today and I had to write it down.  Very tedbecca, also a rough draft.

Rebecca watches Ted sleep with a sense of relief.  The gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breaths, his lax peaceful face, the unkept hair.  Last night was, well every night with Ted was wonderful, but they had been particularly adventurous last night.  And when it was over, spent and exhausted, Rebecca fell immediately asleep.  She was sure Ted did as well.  Which was good.  Maybe he got a good night’s sleep for once.

This was why, when Rebecca woke minutes before her alarm (as she always did) she quickly silenced it.  Ted can be late to work for once, if it meant he got to catch up on his sleep.  It’s not like his boss will mind, Rebecca thought with a smile.

Rebecca slid out of bed, her naked frame sliding soft against the sheets, and donned a dressing gown before tiptoeing down stairs on a mission for some tea, humming to herself pleasantly. The twin accomplishments of last night’s love making and actually getting Coach Ted Lasso to sleep through the night boosting her mood.  But she deflates when she gets to the kitchen: a new batch of biscuits, a quiche, and a coffee cake.

Fuck.

Rebecca shakes her head with disappointment as she starts the kettle.  Another session of midnight baking meant another night that Ted was up at all hours.  To make matters worse, by the time she’s pouring herself her first cup, Ted’s padding into the kitchen.

“Mornin’ boss.  Sleep well last night?”  He wags his eyebrows suggestively and Rebecca can’t help but giggle despite her concern.  

“Well, it happened that there was this very fine gentleman that tucked me into bed last night,” she flirts back.

“Mm, should I be jealous?” Ted asks before leaning in for a kiss.

“I don’t know.  Maybe,” Rebecca says after they kiss.  “He’s baked me a quiche too.”

“Sounds like a mighty fine fella.  Can’t blame you if you leave me for him.”  Ted says reaching around her for the quiche.

Rebecca steps over to the fridge to pour a glass of orange juice for her gaffer.  By the time she’s settled at the table beside him, he’s already cut her a slice of quiche and is in the middle of serving himself.

“Oh, fuck me,” Rebecca moans at the first bite.

“Again already?” Ted asks with a twinkle in his eye.

“This isn’t fair.”

Ted takes a bite himself and nods in agreement.  “Prue truly knows her stuff. This is a mighty fine Lorraine.”  

Rebecca moans her agreement.

She turns to him and he meets her look with a matching smile.  But after a moment hers falters as she takes in the circles around his still bleary eyes.  He’s managed to distract her from his insomnia.

“Ted…”

He sighs and puts down the fork. “Rebecca.”

“I’m just worried.”

“You don’t need to be though.  I’m alright.  Like I said, I just go through some trouble sleepin’ sometimes but I’m fine.  Truly.  More than fine.  Never been happier in my life.”

Rebecca shakes her head.  It had started up a couple weeks after Ted came home from the hospital and it was late April now.  More than that, she’s been starting to think that maybe this predates his drug-induced heart attack in late October, with the fatigue from his heart issues giving him a temporary reprieve.

[sequinsmile-x]

Day-to-Day

Emily is the glue that holds the family together, aka five times the Hotchner family needed Emily.

A story in the “5 times + 1″ format.  

Part of the Whatever Tomorrow Brings universe.

Chapter 1 - Amelia. 

Read on AO3 via this link, or below the cut

March 2010

Aaron wakes to his bed being empty. He rubs his eyes, trying to remove the last remnants of sleep, and he turns to check the alarm clock, groaning when he sees it’s 3am. He touches the other side of the bed and feels that the sheets are cold, indicating that his wife had been gone for some time. Amelia had been off the evening before, their usually happy baby grouchy and sleepy. Which was always the first sign that she was coming down with something. Theo had been ill the week before, a bug he’d picked up from school, and Aaron had naively hoped they’d managed to avoid it being passed on to the youngest Hotchner.

He sits on the side of the bed and spots light filtering out from under the ensuite door. He walks over, opening the door to find his wife laying back in the bath, Amelia dozing on her chest. Emily looks tired, a small smile on her face when she spots him. “Hey.” She rasps out, staying quiet so she doesn't wake their daughter.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Aaron walks in and kneels on the floor next to the bath. “Everything ok?”

“She woke up about an hour ago, she had a fever. I thought a lukewarm bath might bring it down, but she started to cry every time I tried to put her in here herself.” Emily says gently, placing a hand on Amelia’s forehead. “It’s come down a bit.”

“You should have woken me up.” He says, placing a hand on their daughter's back. “I’d have helped.”

“It’s ok, honey.” She says placing her hand over his. “You need your sleep, work has been rough on you lately.”

“Right.” He says, with a raised eyebrow. “Because your job is a piece of cake.” Aaron links their fingers and runs a thumb over her knuckles. “You don’t have to do it all on your own anymore, Em. I’m here now. We’re all here.”

She purses her lips together and nods at him. It was still her instinct sometimes to try and do it all by herself, especially anything to do with the kids. Memories of those months spent alone waiting for Foyet to be stopped were sharp, and sometimes it still took her breath away. How close they had come to losing everything.

“Can you take her?” She asks softly. “She should be fine for now.”

“Of course.” He lifts the toddler off of his wife's chest and wraps her in a towel. Amelia wakes almost immediately, grumbling at being removed from her mother. “Let’s go get you dressed sweetie.”

He takes Amelia to the nursery and puts a fresh diaper on her, and a thin sleepsuit. He frowns at the warmth still on her skin, and soothes her when she starts to cry again. “I know what you want, you want Mommy.” He lifts Amelia into his arms and kisses her forehead. “I don’t blame you, I always want her when I feel sick too.”

Emily is already in bed dressed in one of his shirts when he walks back into their bedroom. Amelia immediately reaches out for Emily, the little girl's face already scrunched up as she cries. He passes Amelia over, lets his wife take him into her arms. “Mama.”

“You’re ok, sweet girl.” Emily says, running a hand over the back of her daughter’s head. She kisses her forehead and frowns. “It’s gone down, but she’s still warm.”

“We’ll call the doctor if she’s still got a temperature in the morning.” He says. Emily nods, settling Amelia so she is resting against her chest. The little girl's favorite place to sleep when she was sick or sad. “Sweetheart, you aren’t going to get any sleep if she’s in here.”

“I know.” She replies, soothing the small coughs coming out of Amelia by rubbing her back. “I’ll get someone to drop some case files and paperwork here tomorrow, work from here until she’s better.”

“And if you get a case?”

She glares at him. “Then I’m sure the team can handle it without me. It’s not like they haven’t before.”

“Sweetheart-”

“I’m not leaving her if she’s sick, Aaron.” She says, her voice firm. “She only settles for me if she’s sick and I’m not putting either of you through that.”

He knew his wife somehow felt responsible for his delicate relationship with his daughter. Things were better now, so much better, but he couldn’t say it didn’t hurt when Ameila, or any of their kids, immediately reached for Emily when something was wrong. The six months they had spent alone together had formed a bond he loved, but that he was also, in his worst moments, jealous of.

He wants to argue, wants to say that eventually something would happen with one of the kids when she wasn’t there, but he knows this isn’t the time. That it can wait until it isn’t almost 4am and she has their feverish daughter pressed against her.

“It’s a good thing your boss is so understanding.”

Emily smiles at him. “Well, I do repay his understanding with blow jobs so I think it’s earned.” _________________

May 2024

Ameila was Emily through and through. It was something Aaron, and just about everyone they knew, said frequently. She looked like Emily. She had her nose, her dark eyes and hair, and the same smile that had always been able to convince Aaron to do just about anything. Amelia had inherited her fathers jawline and his seriousness, her frown, a pure ‘Hotch’ look that Penelope had often joked would serve her well in whatever she decided to do in the future.

She also had Emily’s attitude. A need to know everything, to push all the boundaries around her, that often drove Aaron to the edge of his sanity in a way neither of his sons ever had. Elizabeth often commented on how similar Amelia and Emily were, and he never missed the way she smirked at him when she said it.

Emily was fiercely protective of Amelia. Aaron knew it was because their daughter was the only one of their kids who didn’t remember the incident with Foyet. She was so small when it happened, only a few months old when her family was torn apart by the actions of a psychopath, and they were grateful for it. Jack and Theo still bore the scars of what happened, years of therapy had done them wonders, but it still surfaced at times, almost unexpectedly. Leading to Theo calling in the middle of the night, the now 21 year old plagued by nightmares that his mother was dead, only calmed down by the sound of her tired voice over the phone.

The first time Amelia really pushes the boundaries with her parents is when she comes home one day with her nose pierced. The ring in her nose was massive, big enough to allow for the swelling that would follow, drawing her parents attention to it immediately.

“What the hell is that in your nose?” Aaron asks, annoyance clear in his tone.

“It’s a nose ring, Dad.” Amelia answers, her eyes rolling as she hangs her keys up. “I got it done after school.”

“And who said you could do that?”

“It’s my nose. I didn’t realise I needed permission.”

“Ok.” Emily interrupts, placing a hand on her husband's arm to try and diffuse the situation. “I think what your dad is trying to say is that you should run this stuff past us, ok?”

Amelia scoffs. “Well it’s your nose I inherited, surely you understand why I wanted to do something to it.” She walks past her parents and goes up the stairs before the conversation can go any further. “I have homework.”

_________________

Aaron walks into their en-suite later that night to find Emily standing in front of the mirror scrutinising her appearance. He leant against the doorframe and watched as she turned her head side to side, running her finger down the slope of her nose. Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at herself straight on again, her finger pressed into the tip.

“Em?”

She turns to look at him, taking her hand away from her nose as she does. He doesn’t miss the shy look on her face as she wrung her hands together. “Do you think my nose is weird?”

He frowns at her. “What? No.”

“I know it’s ridiculous. I’m 53 for fuck sake.” She mutters to herself.

He kisses the tip of her nose and she smiles at him. “You’re beautiful.”

“And you’re ridiculous.” She wraps her arms around him anyway, pulling him in for a kiss. “It will look better when she can switch to a smaller ring.”

“It will look better when she just takes it out.”

Emily laughs, shaking her head at him. “Come on, let's go to bed. Some of us have work in the morning.”

He raises an eyebrow at her as he always did when she referred to his early retirement, even though it had been years since he left the FBI. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

_________________

The casual mention of a boyfriend, a boy from Amelia’s art class called Chase, almost sends Aaron orbital. He manages to keep his opinions to himself until Amelia has gone to bed and he’s just in the kitchen with his wife, helping her with the dishes even though it was long ago established as her chore since she never cooked.

“She’s not that bad, Aaron.”

He scoffs at his wife. “She’s going to make me go grey.”

“Honey. Amelia is a teenage girl. A pretty well behaved one in comparison to what I was like.”

“Suddenly I feel a lot more sympathy for Elizabeth than I ever have before.” He mutters as he continues to put dishes away.

“What was that?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“Nothing, sweetheart.”

She narrows her eyes at him as she passes him another plate, patting his cheek with her spare hand. “You’re already grey, Aaron. It’s got nothing to do with the fact our daughter has a boyfriend. Or a nose ring.” _________________

Emily finally loses her cool two weeks later. They are eating dinner, just her, Amelia and Aaron, when she spots something on her daughter's wrist as she reaches for more salad. Emily grabs Amelia’s arm and pulls her sleeve back slightly to reveal a, admittedly very small, heart tattoo onto her daughter’s wrist. It was crude, slightly wonky and clearly not a professional one.

“What the hell is this?” She asks, staring her daughter down.

Amelia tears her arm out of her mother’s grasp and pulls her sleeve back down. “It’s a tattoo, Mom.”

“A tattoo? When did that happen?” Emily looks over at Aaron, who to her annoyance looked slightly amused that she was finally reacting like he had been all along.

“We did them at school.” Amelia answers, taking another bite of her dinner.

Emily’s initial reaction of telling her daughter how dangerous that was, how stupid, was drowned out by her overriding fear of who exactly had done this. “What do you mean ‘we’?”

“Chase and I did them. We have matching ones.” Amelia says, looking at her mother with a challenge on her face. “I don’t see what the big deal is Mom, you have tattoos.”

Emily glares at her husband when he chokes out a laugh at that, and he quickly excuses himself from the table. She turns back to her daughter. “Amelia, it really wasn’t very safe to do that. You have to let professionals do this kind of thing.”

Amelia rolls her eyes as she takes the final bite of her dinner. “Whatever.” She gets up from the table, already half out of the dining room before she speaks again. “I need to go FaceTime Chase.”

Emily puts her head in her hands as soon as she is alone. Her daughter was too much like her for her own good, independent and wilful almost to a fault. Emily loved that Amelia was like that, that she was so sure of herself in a way that Emily certainly hadn’t been at her age. She took it as a testament to her and Aaron’s parenting, but right now she was struggling with it. She just wanted to sit Amelia down and tell her that not everyone in the world had her best intentions at heart, and Emily had an increasingly sinking feeling that Chase was one of those people.

She blows out a breath and stands up, starting to collect the dishes from the evening meal. Emily hears her husband re-enter the room. “I’m going to get her some antiseptic cream to put on it. Who the hell knows where they got the needle they did it with from.”

“Emily-”

“She gave herself a matching tattoo with her boyfriend, Aaron.” She says, putting the dishes she had been holding back down on the dining room table. “They’ve been together for 8 weeks.”

He steps towards her and places his hands on her hips. “What was it you told me last week? That it will work itself out eventually.”

“She thinks she loves him, honey.” Emily lamented, allowing her husband to pull her into his arms. “And I know he’s going to break her heart.”

Aaron kisses her. “Sweetheart, we can’t protect her from that.” He kisses her again, cupping her cheek with his hand. “All we can do is be here for her if it happens.”

Emily rests her forehead on his chest. “Now who's being annoying ok about all of this?”

_________________

“This is where I found out I was pregnant with you.” Emily says offhandedly, a wistful smile on her face. It was so long ago now, but she still remembered the joy she had felt when she first saw Amelia on screen. The baby she had always been told she couldn’t have was now this amazing person she couldn’t imagine her life without.

Emily looks at her daughter when she doesn’t get a response, and she stops herself from laughing when she sees how pointedly Amelia is ignoring her. “Oh really, Mom?” She says to herself. “That’s so interesting.”

“Mom, I cannot believe you are doing this.” Amelia seethes, looking at the floor of the clinic they were in. Embarrassment coming off of her in waves. “This is so embarrassing.”

Emily rolls her eyes, and bites back a comment about how if she found birth control embarrassing then she should think twice about having sex. “I just want you to be safe, ok? You’ve got a boyfriend now and whilst I am not exactly delighted at the idea of you having sex.” She says, not missing how her daughter grimaces. “I don’t want you to take any chances.”

“Amelia Hotchner?”

Emily and Amelia look up to see Joanne standing at the door to her office looking expectantly at them. Emily smiles at her, Amelia does not, and the latter sighs as she stands up. She takes a few steps towards Joanne, only pausing when she realises her mother isn’t following her.

“Well you may as well come in. This was your idea after all.” Amelia says, annoyance colouring her tone. Emily sees past it, spotting the way her daughter nervously wrings her hands, fingers digging at her cuticles in a way she had picked up from her.

“Of course, sweetie.” She stands and walks up to her daughter, and guides her into Joanne’s office with a gentle hand on her back.

_________________

“You did what??” Aaron asks, seething, as they get ready for bed side by side in their ensuite. He turns to her, a disbelieving look on his face.

“I took her to get birth control.” Emily answers around her toothbrush, spitting into the sink. She rinses it and places it next to his in the holder.

“Why?” He is glaring at her, and she's suddenly more glad than ever that she hadn’t broached this subject with him until after Amelia had a packet of pills sitting in her bathroom cabinet, with very explicit instructions on the importance of taking it correctly from both Emily and Joanne. “Is she sleeping with him?”

“I don’t even know if she is having sex yet. But you know these things happen. I bought the boys condoms when they were teenagers.” She purposely misses out that she had also bought Amelia condoms, thinking that admission might make her husband's head explode. “I wanted to make sure she takes precautions if she takes that step.”

“She’s 15, Emily.”

“Yeah, and so was I.” She closes her eyes and sighs, turning to look at her husband as she crosses her arms across her chest. She looks at him and bites her lip, trying to figure out what she’s been wanting to say. “Aaron, I just don’t want what happened to me to happen to her.”

Emily can see the moment it registers in his head. The way his brow unfurls, his whole body unclenching as the anger seeps out of him, replaced by concern for her. He takes a step towards her. “Sweetheart…”

She shakes her head at herself, wiping a stray tear away that had fallen at the admission. “She deserves better than that.”

He sighs as he drags her into a hug, one she gladly returns, wrapping her arms around his back. “You deserved better than that too.”

Emily buries her face into his neck, breathes in the scent of him that had comforted her for more than half her life. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” _________________

Three days later it becomes a non issue. Amelia is out with friends, and Chase, leaving Aaron and Emily with the house to themselves.

Emily is sitting in her husband's lap on their couch. His hands up her shirt and his tongue in her mouth, when she hears it. A car door slamming on edge of her consciousness, someone running up the steps of their porch. She pulls back from Aaron, the dazed look on his face surely matching the one on her own. “Did you hear that?” She breathes out.

They hear a key in the door and break apart like they’ve burnt each other, both standing as the front door opens.

Amelia bursts in, tears streaming down her face. She drops her bag at the front door, her school things abandoned in the foyer of their home, and as soon as her eyes land on Emily her face crumbles. The steady stream of tears turning into sobs. “Mom.”

“Amelia?” She closes the gap between them, concern for her daughter overriding anything else, any lingering hopes she had of alone time with her husband gone in an instant. Amelia is in her arms in seconds, clawing at her shirt to try and get as close as possible. She buries her face into Emily’s shoulder and weeps. Emily cups the back of her daughter’s head, and runs her other hand up and down her back. “Oh sweetheart, it’s ok.” She soothes. “You’ll be ok.”

Emily exchanges a concerned look with Aaron over the top of their daughter's head and she shakes her head at him slightly when he takes a step towards them, silently asking him to leave it to her. He understands, just like he always had, and leaves them to it despite wanting to know exactly what has upset Amelia this much.

“Mia, honey.” She says gently, hand still tangled in her daughter's dark hair. She tries to pull back slightly, cupping Amelia’s cheek, but she holds on to her tighter, sobs still tearing out of her throat. “Let’s move over to the couch, ok?”

Amelia nods against her but doesn’t separate herself from her mother at all. Emily carefully guides her over to the couch and sits down. Amelia curls into her, wrapping herself around her in a way she hadn’t done in years. Emily wraps her arms around her, and whispers random words of comfort into her daughter's hair.

“Sweetheart.” She says gently, pulling away enough that she can cup Amelia’s face in her hands. She wipes tears away from her cheeks with her thumbs. “You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, not until you’re ready, but I need to know if you’re hurt.”

Amelia shakes her head. “Not hurt.” She says, her words choked by her tears. She leans back into Emily, pressing her face into her neck.

“Ok, sweet girl.” Emily says the old nickname, one she hadn’t used since Amelia was 9 and turned her nose up at it, slipping out without thinking. She presses a kiss on her daughter's head. “I’m right here.”

It takes almost 30 minutes for Amelia to calm down, for her sobs to dissipate into sniffs and a hoarseness in her throat as she takes in ragged breaths. “He broke up with me.”

Emily frowns, holding her daughter impossibly tighter. “What?”

“Chase broke up with me.” Amelia says, pulling back so she could look at Emily properly. “He said I was boring.”

Emily covers her reaction to that, keeping her surprise away from her face. Boring was not a word she would have ever used to describe Amelia. She tucks some of Amelia’s hair behind her ear. “I’m so sorry, baby. I know you really liked him.”

Amelia snuggles back down into her, sniffing as she lays her head on Emily's shoulder. Emily runs her hand through her daughter's hair, soothing her as she finishes calming down. “What do you want to do?” Emily asks. “We could get Dad to go out and get Taco Bell.”

Amelia chokes out a laugh but shakes her head. “I think I just want to go to bed.”

“Whatever you want.” _________________

Aaron is pacing their bedroom when she enters it, softly closing the door behind her. He stops and looks at her, an expectant look on his face.

“He broke up with her.” Emily says. “She is heartbroken.” She hears how her own voice breaks as she tells him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like that.” She shakes her head at herself. “The worst thing is when she told me what happened I felt relieved. She’s sitting there absolutely hysterical and I’m relieved?”

Aaron closes the distance between them and hugs her. “You’re a fantastic mom, Em. I won’t let you believe anything other than that.”

She chokes out a laugh, somehow still surprised after all these years that he was able to guess what was really bothering her without her saying it outloud. “You’re a pretty great dad yourself, Mr Hotchner.” Emily lets herself relax in her husband’s embrace for a little longer, she pulls back and looks up at him. “I’m going to go in and sleep with her tonight.”

“Ok, sweetheart.” He kisses her quickly before letting her go so she can get ready for bed. He watches as she pulls on pyjama pants and a soft t-shirt that once belonged to him.

Aaron admires his wife as she takes off her makeup from the day and puts her dark hair up, smiling as he catches sight of some grey flecks that she hates as she twists it into a bun. She never believes him when he says it, but he thinks she's more beautiful now than she was when they first met all those years ago. Emily had always been beautiful, from the 22 year old she was when they first met. Teasing smiles and flirty comments as she coaxed him out to a bar with her.

Emily always lamented aging, wondering where the time had gone. More self conscious now than she had been the entire time he had known her. All he saw in lines on her face that she thought made her look old was all the laughter and joy they’d had over the years. She was softer now, her hips wider, evidence that she had given him two of their children that made him find her even more attractive. The grey flecks in her hair, that he knew she’d get dyed again soon, that showed him just how long they had loved each other.

They had been together 31 years and sometimes Aaron felt every moment of it, every single thing that had happened to them since she kissed him at one of her mother’s events. It somehow also had passed in the blink of an eye, decades gone in seconds and he was still somehow lucky enough to have her by his side.

“You’re staring.” She says, pulling him out of his thoughts with an amused look on her face and a teasing tone to her voice.

He pulls her into his arms again, kisses her cheek, then her nose. Making her laugh as she tries to squirm away from him. “You’re beautiful.”

Emily rolls her eyes at him. “You’re ridiculous.” _________________

Ameila smiles shakily at her mother as she walks into her room. Emily walks over to her bed and climbs in on the spare side, settling down for the night. She lays on her side and looks at Amelia, tucking some hair behind her ear. “How are you doing, sweetie?”

Amelia sniffs, suppressing a sarcastic laugh. “I’ve been better.” She settles into her mother’s side, resting her head on her shoulder. In the darkness of her bedroom, with Emily’s arms wrapped tightly around her, she finally feels like she can admit the truth. “It’s because I wouldn’t have sex with him.”

“What do you mean?”

Amelia closes her eyes as she catches the tone in her mother’s voice, the dangerous edge to it that she was so rarely on the receiving end of. She had only ever really overheard it when she was talking to someone about work over the phone, or one the rare occasion her parents had a full blown row, their angry voices soon turning into other noises that Amelia thanked whoever was listening for the invention of noise cancelling headphones.

“That’s why he broke up with me.” Amela says, feeling tears build back up in her eyes. “Because I wouldn’t sleep with him.”

She feels her mother’s hold on her tighten, and the sharp intake of breath that she takes beneath her head. Emily kisses the top of her head. “You’re ok, sweetheart. Go to sleep.”

Amelia drifts off to the feel of her mother stroking her hair, something she hadn’t had happen since she was younger. She was surprised to realise how much she had missed it, regret for how she had started to rebuff her mother’s affection a few years back building in her chest. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too.” Another kiss to the top of her head. “Now get some sleep.”

She falls asleep, completely unaware of how Emily laid awake for hours, anger for a teenage boy she had only met once burning through her veins until she came up with a plan. _________________

Emily wakes in the morning to the sound of Amelia’s door opening. She opens her eyes to see her husband standing there, a takeout coffee holder in his hand, and an unsure look on his face.

She smiles at him as she sits up in bed and beckons him in. He switches the light on, which immediately wakes Amelia, her groans the first indication that she was up.

“Morning, sweetheart.” Aaron says kissing his wife before sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Morning.” She murmurs against his lips, before lifting the coffee she knew was intended for her. Cold brew with enough sweetener in it to rot your teeth.

“You guys suck.” Amelia groans from below the comforter, voice still thick with sleep.

Emily chuckles. “I think you’ll change your mind when you see what your dad has brought you.”

Amelia lifts the comforter from off of her face and shoots up when she sees her favourite frappuccino in her fathers hands. “Dad, you are the best.” She takes a sip and moans, the sugar hitting her tongue. “No wonder Mom has put up with you so long.”

Aaron laughs, glad to see that she seemed her usual self after how devastated she had been the night before. “Are you ok, Mia?”

She smiles at her dad, a shaky thing that was always the first indicator from his wife and daughter that tears were on the horizon. “I will be.” ______________

Emily’s first thought is to set Penelope on Chase. Let her hack into his social media accounts and digitally ruin his life for upsetting her little girl. For trying to pressure her into something she didn’t want to do. She knew Penelope would do it without a second thought. She was the most trusted confidant of all of the younger Hotchner's outside of their parents. Jack had asked for her help planning his over the top proposal to his now wife. Theo had come out to her first, a nervous teenager in her office asking for help on how he could tell his parents. Amelia went to her for advice on everything from boys to elaborate hairstyles, and Penelope gently discouraged her from dying her hair bright purple when she was 13, knowing it would have given Aaron an aneurysm.

Emily was finishing getting ready for work, Amelia already on her way to school, as she started to formulate a text to her friend, a cryptic request to come see her as soon as she got to work, when Aaron snuck up on her in the kitchen.

“You can’t get Penelope to ruin his life.”

Emily jumps, cursing under her breath. “Damn it, Aaron.” She turns to look at him, a sheepish look on her face. “I wasn’t planning on doing anything of the sort.”

“Oh really?” He raises an eyebrow at her. “You weren’t thinking of having her hack all of his social media accounts and freeze his bank account?”

Emily flushes and puts her phone down on the counter. “I can’t just let him get away with it.”

Aaron smiles at her and pulls her towards him with his hands on her hips. “Baby, this is something we have to let her deal with ok?” He kisses her cheek, his smile deepening as she narrows her eyes at him. “No getting Penelope involved.”

“Fine.”

Plan B it was. _________________

Emily is never happier than when she has all of her family in her house. The boys were coming round for dinner, Jack and his wife Sara and Theo and his new boyfriend Zach, someone he had met at college. Theo texted her that morning, a list of strict instructions of things that absolutely couldn’t happen the first time Zach was meeting the family.

She had just let them in, hugging her son fiercely as he walked in and feeling love bloom in her chest when he hugged her back just as tightly, no embarrassment at giving his mother this affection in front of Zach.

She lets him go and turns to the young man standing next to her son. “You must be Zach, I’m Emily.”

He shakes her hand, a nervous smile on his face. “Nice to meet you.”

Amelia bursts into the house, slamming the front door behind her, and immediately breaks the first rule on Theo’s list. “Мама, какого хрена?”

“Не сейчас, милая. У нас гости. И не ругайся.” Emily replies, tilting her head towards where Theo and Zach were standing.

“Ты должен был подумать об этом, прежде чем угрожать моему бывшему парню!”

Zach leans in to Theo, a confused look on his face. “Are they speaking Russian?”

Theo sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he did so, and looks at his boyfriend. “Yes.” He turns to his mother. “Ne pouvons-nous pas le faire? C'est la première fois que Zach rencontre tout le monde.”

Amelia rolls her eyes and Emily smiles at Theo. “Je suis désolé, chérie. On va bien se comporter.”

“Are you speaking French?” Zach asks, looking even more confused at the complete nonchalonce all of the Hotchner’s were showing at the multiple languages being thrown around as if it was nothing. The slight look of amusement on Aaron’s face as he walked into the room. “How many languages does your mom speak?”

Theo grabs his boyfriend's hand and leads him further into the house, away from the rest of the family. “Six. Seven if you include English.” _________________

Emily eyes Sara curiously when she turns down wine with her dinner, a small look passes between her and Jack when she asks for soda instead. Emily shares a similar look with her own husband, a look on his face saying he had spotted what she had too, and she gladly gets an alternative drink for her daughter-in-law.

Amelia sulks all the way through dinner. Rebuffing her brother’s questions about school, a glare fixed on her mother almost the entire time. It’s when she refuses her favourite dessert, cheesecake, that her brother’s interest is piqued.

“Mills.” Theo asks, amusement on his face at his sister’s behaviour. “What’s up with you?”

“Why don’t you ask Mom?” She said, pointedly looking at her mother. “Мама пытается разрушить мою жизнь, вот в чем дело.”

“I did not try and ruin your life, Amelia.” She says, rolling her eyes at her daughter's dramatics. She looks at her sons and their respective partners. “All I did was have a conversation with the boy who made Amelia cry herself to sleep a couple of days ago.”

“Yeah. By explaining that you’re a Section Chief at the FBI, whilst you had your gun and badge on display.” Amelia exclaims.

There was a moment of silence at the table before it descended into laughter, confusion all over Zach’s face on whatever he had walked into.

“Oh sweetheart.” Aaron says, looping his arm around the back of her chair to place a hand on her shoulder. “Not again.”

Amelia frowns, looking at her parents in shock. “Not again? What the hell does that mean?”

“Mom’s crazy, Millie.” Theo says, a laugh bursting out of him.

“Hey, I resent that.” Emily says, sinking back into her chair slightly, glaring at Aaron when he laughs at her and kisses the side of her head.

Jack gives Emily a look with his eyebrows raised before looking back at his sister. “My first ever girlfriend broke up with me the day before homecoming, Mom scared the absolute shit out of her by showing up at her cheerleading practise the following day. She somehow managed to mention that Dad once killed a guy with his bare hands.”

“Your dad did what?” Zach asks, leaning in to Theo who just shook his head. A silent promise that he’d explain later.

“In my defence.” Emily says, crossing her arms across her chest, a slight flush to her face. “This one was really sick at the time and I was pretty sleep deprived.” She says pointing at Amelia. “I wasn’t entirely in control of my emotions, and you were just so sad.”

“She also made me very aware of what she does for a living when Jack and I first moved in together.” Sara pipes up, nothing but amusement on her face when she looks at her mother-in-law. She turns back to Amelia. “I think it’s sweet.”

Amelia shakes her head at them all and turns to Zach. “Run whilst you still can.” __________________

Emily closes the door behind Jack and Sara as they leave, promises of getting together soon uttered in between lingering hugs.

“Mom?”

Emily turns to see Amelia standing behind her, her hands in her pockets as she avoids her mother’s gaze. It’s the calmest she’s looked all evening, any frustration she had towards her and her actions having melted away.

“Look, I’m sorry, Amelia.” She says taking a step towards her daughter. “I know I probably shouldn’t have done that. But you were so upset, and he deserved to-”

Her ranting is cut off by Amelia throwing her arms around her waist and placing her head on her shoulder. “Thank you.”

Emily smiles and hugs her daughter back, kissing the top of her head as she pulls her closer. “You’re welcome, sweetie.”

“I always thought it would be Dad, or Theo or Jack who went after a boy for me.” She says against her mother’s shirt before she pulls away. “At least I can tell any future guys that my mom is crazy.” _________________

Emily turns to lay on her side as Aaron joins her in bed, she smiles at him and pushes some hair off of his forehead before running her blunt nails over his temples, the mix of dark and grey hair rasping as she goes. “When do you think Jack and Sara are going to tell us she’s pregnant?”

A laugh peels out of Aaron before he leans forward and kisses her, pulling back only to press his forehead against hers. “Whenever they are ready.”

Emily shifts so her back is against him and pulls his arm over her waist, sighing when he settles his chest against her. “You’d think they’d learn they can’t hide anything from us.”

He kisses the top of her head and holds her a little tighter. “We’ve got some pretty great kids.”

“We really do.”

“You have got to stop threatening anyone who hurts them though.”

“Sure, love.” She says, pulling his hand up to her lips to kiss his knuckles. “I’ll stop.”

They both know she won’t.

[simpsamaa]

Haikyuu Captains Dating HC’s

Have some dating headcanons with some of the captains in Haikyuu because i’m not a total simp for captains. 

I also kinda got carried away with Kuroo’s- I just love him so much-

Also Bokuto’s is kinda suggestive- so- warning?

--------------------------------------------------

also my requests are open

so you can request characters from BNHA or Haikyuu for headcanons or scenarios 

Daichi Sawamura

Okay

When you start dating this man, you automatically become the mom for the team

Well second mom cause Suga’s the first mom.

You guys meet because you become a manager with Kiyoko and thus start a friendship with Daichi

and it leads on to more-

Will use stupid dad jokes on you when you feel down

Is the type of bf who would send you good night and good morning texts

He acts like an alarm clock for you

He will send you the good morning text at a certain time just to wake you up

Also so you have time to get ready in the morning, cause he’s a loving boyfriend

I expect this guy to be into PDA

But like

it’s just hand holding when you guys are in public

When you guys are alone, 

cuddles, hugs, kisses, etc.

but every time you guys do something affectionate the team makes fun of you.

You guys act like an old married couple

Will take you out on the cutest dates

Wear his jersey to one of his games and his receives will be spot on

same with his spikes and serves

Honest to the team you’re a lucky charm so-

“Dai-kun, how are the first years?” You asked your boyfriend as the two of you entered the gym. Only the third and second years were in there, the first years were still taking an exam. 

“Hmm, Tsukishima and Kageyama need to work on their interaction with the team, Hinata has been hyper as always, and Yamaguchi has some good progress on his jump serves.” Your black haired lover explained, making you smile at how he talked about his teammates.

“How have Tsukki and Tobio been working together? I think they’re the only ones who can’t sync properly” You said, crossing your arms while watching Nishinoya receive another spike from Tanaka.

“Well,” Daichi started with a deadpan look on his face, “Kageyama and Tsukishima can sync, they just argue over it half of the time.” He finished, making you laugh at the thought of them arguing.

“Mmh, maybe a training exercise for the both of them?” You asked, grabbing one of Daichi’s hands into your own, playing with his fingers.

“That might work, but-” “OI DAI-SAN STOP MAKING US FEEL LONELY” Tanaka cut off Daichi as he saw that you were playing around with the captains fingers. 

“YEAH DAICHI-SAN, NOT ALL OF US HAVE AN ADORABLE SHORT GIRLFRIEND” Nishinoya joined in, making you glare at Nishinoya.

“I’M NOT THAT SHORT” You yelled back to the male with spiked hair. “YOU’RE SHORTER THEN ME” Noya yelled back.

Daichi let out a sigh, watching his girlfriend bicker with his teammates with a small chuckle. 

“God, I love her so much”

We stan Daichi

HE CAN COOK

Will cook you lunch

In the end

100% husband material 

Also call him daddy

Oikawa Tooru

Now let’s talk about this flat ass man

He loves PDA

Will tell you he loves you

Will grab your hand, pull you onto his lap, kiss you in front of his fangirls-

He means the best-

Loves it when you wear his clothes-

Wear his jersey, his hoodies, his track jacket 

He loves it

Cause it shows that you’re his

He’s lowkey possessive 

Hates it when you and Iwaizumi team up on him

“Flatass oikawa“ Is your nickname for him

jkjkjk

It’s Tooru

Yes you call him by his first name cause we’re basic bitches here okay

You’re basically the unofficial manager of the team cause you care about them too much

They all love you

Sends you good morning and good night texts with his face

cause he’s like that

And Oiks gets jealous

Will wake you up at three am to take you out to see the stars

and look for aliens 

Honestly-

“TOORU OIKAWA DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS?“ You exclaimed to your boyfriend as he dragged you out of the window, sitting on the roof at three fourteen in the morning.

“I know it’s late, but Y/n-chan,” The brown haired male started, “there’s a meteor shower and there could be aliens. So we have to watch tonight,” he explained making you sigh. 

You knew you weren’t getting out of this. 

“Don’t you have morning practice?“ You asked, locking your hues with his chocolate coloured ones. He gave you a smile before turning his head up to look at the stars, “Maybe, but that doesn’t concern you,” 

You scrunched your eyebrows before hitting Tooru’s shoulder with your own, “It does concern me,” you started, glaring at the male. You were looking at his side profile. “You’re my boyfriend, and I love your team, of course i’m concerned,” you finished making his eyes widen.

Giving you a small smile, he pulled you in to a side hug, leaning his head on your shoulder.

“Let’s just watch the stars tonight and not care about what happens later”

You and Oikawa miss the next day of school cause the both of you are tired from staying up all night-

I don’t think Oikawa can cook

but-

The meals his fan girls give to him-

eat them sis

He’ll never know anyway

His fangirls learn to like you too, because Oikawa likes you

and they like everything Oikawa likes-

though there are some of the delusional fans who think Oiks is just using you

Which he’s not btw

but take care of this baby-

he needs some love

In the end

100% Tooru material 

Kuroo Tetsurou

Can we talk about this gif for a second-

Like the fourth season did him so good

LIKE I’M SO PROUD

lowkey daddy material-

ANYGAYS

ON TO THE HC’S

He adores you 

like

A D O R E S Y O U

If you try a different style or change your hair style, he thinks it’s adorable

He’s highkey a simp for you

Loves PDA

He loves to grab your thigh when he sits next to you

he’s a thigh guys alright-

Loves kissing you in front of people

etc the whole team-

in front of Daishou-

Does get jealous sometimes, but only if he doesn’t know the person

You and Yaku are mom friends

After all, you do have to take care of a 187cm child

Kuroo lowkey think’s it hot how much you care about people and take care of people-

Study dates are a yes with him

You’ll go to little cafes with him-

CAT CAFES-

Sends you good morning texts at five am

and good night texts at four am

cause ISTG this man does not sleep-

Loves to tease you

If you’re shorter then him-

You’ll be called chibi-chan

Cough Yagami Yato Vibes COUGH

Loves it when you hug him

It makes him feel like a giant 

which he is but- ight

LOVES TO KISS YOU TO DIStract you

You’ll be doing homework in his room and he’ll pull you into a breathless kiss and leave you wanting more-

like-

You twirled your mechanical pencil in your fingers, you eyes glanced down at your homework, science. 

You weren’t the best at it, nor were you the worst but you still had trouble with it. Taking off your glasses, you rubbed at your temples before trying to solve the equation once more. 

Tetsurou glanced into his room, his gold hues stopping at your figure hunched over his desk, homework in front of you. Turning around he got a glass of water and walked into his room once more.

“You’re going to get wrinkles early if you keep doing that face,” The black haired male teased, making you groan and press your forehead against the dark wood of his desk. 

“i don’t get how you like science? It’s so boooring,” you groaned, the pencil rolling out of your hand onto the desk.

You heard your boyfriend chuckle before hearing him walk over to you. You raised your head, watching as his golden hues skimmed over the paper before he let out a small ‘pfft’. 

“This is easy,” he said before explaining it.

You gasp as you finally get it, pushing Tetsurou’s hands away and grabbing your pencil, you began to scribble  the answer down, only to be pulled into a heated kiss. 

Kuroo’s tongue pushing past your lips to meet yours. Your eyes were wide, face slightly pink and hands curled up into loose fists gripping his shirt. You were about to close your eyes before he pulled away, a large smirk formed on his face as he saw you. 

“You need to get back to your paper, I guess i’ll leave you alone”

Let’s just say- you did not get the paper finished, but it was a good outcome-

Okay-

I’m like thirsting Kuroo-

So this is long as fuck-

Kuroo can cook basic things

Will cook for you only if you ask

But if oyu cook for him-

He’s whipped

100% Daddy Boyfriend material

Bokuto Koutarou

Season four bokuto got me feeling some way-

like-

they did my baBY SO GOOD

ANYGAYS-

Hyper boy loves PDA

Will hold you when he has the time to-

Loves to kiss you

Even when Akaashi tells him that it’s going against the school rules-

Loves the difference between your hand and his

The way your hand is so small compared to his

and soft

his hands are huge btw-

Loves to call you pet names 

Birdy, Baby bird, dove etc..

Lots of bird related ones-

Loves it when you go to practice and his games

His spikes will be on p o i n t 

You and Akaashi are buddies

You both have to deal with this hyper male-

Like Kuroo he loves your thighs

if the two of you are cuddling-

hands on thighs

and ass-

He loves to hold you-

Sends you good morning texts at six in the morning

and good night texts at nine pm

This man actually sleeps i think-

The team loves you

You raise bokuto from his lowest on the court.

Will state how much he loves you everyday

“Y/N I LOVE YOU TO THE MOON AND BACK“

“Y/N I LOVE YOU MORE THEN HINATA LOVES VOLLEYBALL“

yk?

Will get very whiny when you try to do something other then love him

Becomes depressed bokuto until you give him the love and affection he deserves.

Bokuto wasn’t at his best today at all. His spikes were off, his serves either hit the net or went out of bounce. Why, you might ask. well today you decided to get up early without waking up your boyfriend and go to school without waking him up. 

You walked into practice, scrolling threw something on your phone. Quickly looking up you gave the team a small smile before going to sit on the benches, your eyes going back to your phone. 

Bokuto let out another groan as you did’t give him a hug or a kiss or any type of affection. Akaashi soon caught on to what you were doing and marched over to where you were on the bench.

“Y/n-san stop ignoring bokuto-san,” the dark haired male said making you look up at his tall figure before giving him a small laugh. “how did you figure me out?” you asked while standing up and brushing your skirt. 

“Bokuto gets in his depressed mode when you ignore him,” The younger male stated before turning his body so you could see the spiked haired male whining.

You gave the second year a smile before walking over to your whining boyfriend. 

“kou are you alright?” you asked pressing a kiss to his cheek as he was hunched over. Golden hues locked into yours before Bokuto pulled you into his muscular chest.

“Are you done ignoring me?” his whispered as he nipped your ear.

“Yes sir“ you quietly responded, eyes darting around, making sure no one was looking at the two of you.

“that’s a good girl, now go over there and wait for me. You’ll get what you deserve after practice”

-------------------------- 

Okay well we’re done for now with these headcanons- i started this in july and only finished it now-

anygays- I hope you enjoyed these and if you have characters you want me to write a scenario or headcanons. just ask!!

BTW DID YOU KNOW: Oikawa is taller then bokuto, but Bokuto weighs more. That ass got weight that Oikawa’s non-existent ass doesn’t have-

i love you guys💗

✨thank you for reading!!✨

[novantinuum]

Hi, I was just wondering if you had ever thought about what would have happened in your story "Hollowed Moon" if you had continued it. I always thought it was such an interesting setup that could have gone in so many different directions. And there really aren't other stories focusing on Stevonnie and Spinel, so it was unique!

Hiya!

So, I do have some half-written, half-plotted out material to share. I gave this story some consideration the other day, and came to the decision that I don't have the desire to finish it out, alas- I have far too many other active WIPs to add it to the list. There's a few good reasons why I discontinued it, anyways... intimidation over the huge surge of attention it was getting back in 2019, some rude comments from overzealous Spinel fans, (I know everyone isn't like this, but a certain segment of the Spinel side of the SU fandom kinda burned me over time, hhh), and a future chapter containing a sensitive topic that I wasn't in a good headspace to write about at the time.

But! Anyways! Below the cut is all the existing material I have for Hollowed Moon past chapter 14, consisting of a mixture of descriptions, sketchy dialogue, and prose. It honestly feels nice to finally be able to put this story to an official rest.

__

Chapter 15

“I... I saw her.”

“Who-?”

“I saw Pink Diamond. I saw you, in this exact garden, in a dream. I- it was like I was experiencing everything through her. She explained your game, tapped your nose and told you to smile, then warped away—“

“That’s it, that’s what happened, almost exactly! But how could you even know that, I never—“

“I don’t know,” they blurt out. “I have empathic abilities, and sometimes that makes dreaming a little weird, but I have no idea how or why I saw any of this.”

[Pause for Stevonnie to think]

“Spinel, I’m so, so sorry,” they whisper brokenly. “But I think... she left you here.”

“What...?”

“She said she’d return, but before she warped away she whispered goodbye, like she didn’t actually intend to make good on that promise. She was lying to you,” they choke out, voice thick.

“No. No,” she says in clear denial, “no she’s not. She can’t be! She told me she’d come back! I can wait! I just have to wait—“

“But she’s not! She... she can’t, because Pink Diamond is gone. She- she was shattered, Spinel. Five thousand years ago, on the Earth. I- I should’ve told you this from the beginning, and I didn’t, and I- I’m so, so sorry—! But she left you behind, and now she’s never coming back.”

[Silence. Tears brim in Spinel’s eyes. Her eyes grow dark, pained, and then she glares at Stevonnie with such venom it almost knocks them backwards in alarm. ]

“NO!” she screams, tears streaming down her faded pink cheeks.

[She tears her feet up from the roots and runs away, using her arms like an orangutan to vault herself forward super fast so Stevonnie can’t catch her.]

___

Chapter 16

AN: Content warning for self-shattering attempt. Part of the reason why I had to stop writing this story at the time. I considered pushing the plot another way, but it didn't feel authentic to how I believed this scenario would play out for Spinel when she didn't have a direct target for her anger. Without someone to actively be jealous and upset AT, I could only imagine her breaking inwards instead of outwards, feeling that she's utterly failed in her life's purpose. Nothing more than a description for this chapter... and it'd be a short one.

[When Stevonnie finds her, she’s smashing her fists against her gem in her sheer anguish. She’s already cracked it. She’s glitching. It looks terribly painful. She’s about to strike her gem again when Stevonnie intervenes.]

___

Chapter 17

[Post timely intervention. Spinel is still cracked at this moment, though... her form glitching as she cries.]

“I was... her best friend,” she cries, fat, glistening tears streaming down her cheeks. “I was supposed to make her happy! Why wasn’t she happy? Why didn’t she come back?“

[Spinel reasoning that maybe if Pink came back for her, she wouldn’t have been shattered in the first place]

“What did I do wrong?” she whispers hoarsely, gazing pleadingly into Stevonnie’s eyes. “Wha- what am I doing? Why do I wanna hurt myself so badly?”

“Shh, now,” they reply, tears of their own brimming at the crease of their eyes, and pull Spinel’s head to their chest. “I’ve got you...”

___

Chapter 18

They know their throat is tight, and their voice scratchy. They know they’ve never sung this song in front of another living being, since it’s something personal they composed alone on one of their late nights back on Earth, thinking about all the difficult days Steven and Connie have had to face over the months. Pair this with their active crying, and there’s no way their singing will be anything pretty.

But pretty doesn’t matter right now.

Stevonnie opens their lips, and— clutching the broken hearted Gem close, rhythmically rocking with her back and forth— lets the wandering melody emerge from within.

“I guess I have to face That in this awful place I shouldn’t show a trace Of doubt...”

“But pulled against the grain I feel a little pain That I would rather do Without...”

“I’d rather be Free, free Free...”

[Hoarse, Spinel starts singing with them.]

“I’d rather be Free, free Free...”

“Free, free Free...”

“From here...”

[Stevonnie holds her tight while crying, their tears healing it back up.]

___

Chapter 19

AN: Don't have anything but a single bit of dialogue in this chapter note- I'm assuming I intended it as being a good few hours after the events of chapters 16-18... when Spinel has calmed down a little and has a moment to reflect on the upsetting news she's just received.

“I think... I always knew,” she says, voice hoarse. “In a way. It was so obvious how she felt about me.

___

Chapter ?

AN: From here on out, the plot hasn't been split into individual chapters.

[At some point shortly after chapter 19, Lars and his crew locate Stevonnie in the garden, and pick them and Spinel up. The next few bits of dialogue and description takes place on the ship.]

Rutile twins: “I haven’t heard of Spinels being produced in over five millennia.” “Me neither!”

Rhodonite: “Yeah, I heard they stopped making them entirely after the rebellion on Pink’s colony.”

[A bit of overwhelming conversation later, no one really noticing Spinel's conflicted emotional response to so many Gems hovering around her at once.]

Padparadscha: “I predict that you’re both going to make Spinel feel very uncomfortable aboard this ship.”

Rhodonite: “I’m sorry, we don’t exactly meet new Gems every century.”

Rutile twins: “Yes!” “It’s just been us until we met our captain!”

Fluorite: “Our new huuuuman friend helped us escape the tunnels on Homeworld. Now... we’re slooowly making our way back... to Earth.”

Spinel: “Earth?? You’re going to Pink’s world? But why? I heard she... was shattered.”

___

[Spinel feeling a sense of kinship with the idea that there’s other Gems who didn’t serve their rightful purpose and are now escaping their life on Homeworld to be free of that. Because now, without her Diamond, since she was unable to keep her happy, she’s an Off Color too. She failed her given purpose same as them.]

[Discussion of Earth, and the rebellion, and how there’s Gems living free there. And how Pink’s colony was siphoning life away, and that’s what these Gems were fighting to protect. Stevonnie points out all the plants and wildlife that used to live in the garden, and asks her if she felt happier when it was around. Spinel says yes. Stevonnie says that this is what the Diamonds are destroying, with each lifeless colony they forge. Everywhere they go, dead wildlife lies in their wake.]

Spinel: “I... guess I never thought of it that way.”

[(Stevonnie adds...) And while they’re very sorry for the personal connection there, and can’t imagine how painful that must be, that’s why Pink Diamond was shattered.]

[Spinel is given an open choice... Lars gives the invitation to stay with him and the Off Colors, and Stevonnie offers for her to come with them back to Earth. It's not a hard decision for her in the end, though. She's always dreamed of seeing what was once Pink’s planet, ever since she heard the Diamonds bequeath it to her.]

___

Stevonnie: “Okay, so… before we go, I need to be honest with you about something." [deep breath] "I’m actually a fusion of two separate people who are close friends. You... know what fusion is, right?”

Spinel: “Duh, o’course! What, d’ya think I was made yesterday?”

[...]

Stevonnie: “But even with that, I can’t be together as me all the time. Steven and Connie, the two who come together to form me... they love hanging out with each other so much, but they also have their own lives! Other friends, other hobbies, their own families. They still talk when they’re apart, but they know it’s okay to do things alone, too. Do you know why I’m telling you this?”

Spinel: [shakes head no] “No...?”

Stevonnie: [sighs] “I understand you’ve been left behind. Believe me, I know how bad that feels. So the last thing I wanna do is make you think I’m doing that too.”

Spinel: “Y-you— you’re going away?” Stevonnie: “Unfusing, yes.” Spinel: “But Stevonnie, you—“ Stevonnie: “Spinel. No matter what, you are my friend. Steven and Connie consider you a friend, too. And my hope is that you’ll keep making a whole bunch more on Earth, so you’ll always have people around who know and love you. But that can’t always be me, okay?“

___

[At home... on Earth. There's a bit of a close call for Pearl when Spinel arrives, and recognizes her as Pink's second pearl. This is news for Garnet and Amethyst and Steven, the first of which had somewhat suspected that Pearl used to be in the diamonds' service, but never knew for sure. Pearl, of course... can't say much on this due to her gag order... not that anyone else knows about that yet... but does manage a very concise and PD=RQ free explanation about her past in Pink's court, and her transition towards being a Crystal Gem:]

Pearl: “Rose Quartz set me free, and I’ve been a part of the rebellion ever since.”

___

[At some point between the last scene and the next, mention how Spinel had a bit of a relapse... she ended up poofing herself, and reformed differently. A little bit closer to the smudged mascara and frayed pigtails look of canon, but no rotated heart. Unlike in canon, she has a solid support system amongst the Crystal Gems, and she's working hard to recover from the heartbreak of Pink's abandonment.]

___

[Final scene is set post A Single Pale Rose. Steven and Connie fuse, and Stevonnie goes to find Spinel to check in on how she's taking the news. The final line of the fic is as follows:]

Spinel: “I know you’re not her, not really. And I know you’ll always be a better person than she ever was. But in some silly cyclical way... back in that garden... it’s almost like Pink came back for me after all.”

[prettywordsyouleft]

The Cowboy - Part 2

Summary: Leaving the city for a rural area called Blayne seemed simple enough. Your task was to convince the people to agree with selling their land for a resort redevelopment. But once there, you soon realise that your city ways are entirely different to theirs. Winning their trust was going to take some effort, and when you start to fall for a local cowboy, you wonder if you really needed Blayne more than the city life after all.

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x female reader

Genre: cowboy au / drama / romance / if you squint there’s some enemies to lovers up in here.

Warnings: Jung Jaehyun is a cowboy, need I say more? (a bit of angst and drama, and it sometimes might feel like you’re reading a Nicolas Sparks book, so I’m told lol)

Word count: 1708

This series will be updated every Thursday and Friday starting 7th January.

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3

You barely recovered before he walked off, rounding the outside of the building. Scrambling after him, you soon fell into step with the son of the household.

The incredibly attractive Jung son.

“So you’ll be able to put on the power?”

“Sure, I’ll just wind up the generator and in about three hours-”

“Generator?! Hours?!”

He laughed then, the sound making you halt in your tracks in a daze. Glancing back at you, he smirked. “You’re sure easy to fool, Miss City.”

“Well, I was expecting a teen with the way your mother spoke of you, Mr Cowboy.”

“We’re a loving bunch around here,” he answered, walking over to a box on the side of the house and patting it. “All I have to do is flick a switch, and you’ll have power.”

“Thank god.”

“Not willing to rough it even for a night?”

“Rough it?”

He smirked again. “You sure don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“So people keep telling me. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you will,” he replied, staring back at you for a moment. You raised an eyebrow, and he chuckled, pulling open the box and turning on the main switch. You saw the lights in the house you had flicked on come to life, and you clapped your hands together with glee.

“Yes!”

“Are you scared of the dark?”

“Are you always this full of yourself?” you shot back, and he grinned.

“Somewhat.”

“Anything else I need to know about so I can survive the night?”

After shutting the fuse box, he returned to your side, stuffing his hands deep into his jean pockets and leaned towards you. “You sound like high maintenance.”

“Perhaps I am.”

“You’re in for a rude awakening here then.”

“I’m adaptable,” you announced and he laughed. “What, I am!”

“This isn’t something you just get used to, Miss City. You’ll be gone before long.”

“And what will you do if I prove otherwise?” you challenged, and his eyes lit up, glinting with enjoyment.

You had to admit this banter was doing things for you too.

“There’s no point making plans for things that won’t come into fruition.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“I know, but it seems that you’re enjoying it.”

“Fine,” you stated simply, throwing your hands up. “Thank you for turning on the power, Mr Cowboy.”

“Enjoy your night, Miss City.”

You both rounded back to the front of the house, where you went to the veranda, and he approached the truck. You eyed it warily. “Is that thing legal?”

“Don’t try and use too many appliances at once. Houses like these can get overloaded, and it’ll trip the fuse and turn the power off. I’ve got cattle to run tomorrow, so you’ll be without power for some time if you do that.”

You blinked, trying to decipher if he was being serious or not. He shrugged and opened the door to the truck. “R-Really?”

“Take it on as some friendly advice.”

“Ah, is that what it is.” You nodded with a laugh as he climbed into the cab of the vehicle. Dashing down to the driver’s side, you leaned on the open window, and he watched you curiously. “Can you give me some more friendly advice?”

“Don’t open the front door. There might be coyotes howling out in the distance that you’ll have to get used to and by the hay barn, there is an old owl that likes to hoot around three in the morning. You’re welcome.”

“Wait! I was meaning more like if there’s regular mobile data service out here. I’ve got some files to-”

“You’re in the wrong place if you want to be on the internet, Miss City. I’ll give you two days out here before you head on back to your four-gee or whatever the thing is called.”

“You’re getting on my nerves.”

He grinned. “And you’re on my door stopping me from getting home to dessert, ma’am.”

Lifting your arms off, he tipped his cowboy hat at you again and started up the truck. You shook your head as he reversed down the drive before turning the vehicle around.

“Wait! I didn’t even get your real name!” you called out into the night, pouting some.

It didn’t matter. Even if he was the most handsome guy you had seen in months, he was also not your type with how easily he assumed so little of you.

Fishing out your phone, you held it up in search for a stronger signal. Groaning when there was only one bar, you stomped into the house and shut the door behind you.

When your alarm went off the following morning, you were already wide awake, staring up at the ceiling in sheer frustration. The advice you had received last night had been helpful, but what you needed was earplugs instead. You never knew the wilderness to be so loud.

“How am I going to get enough sleep here until I can order some earplugs?” you questioned to no one in particular, sitting up in the bed. You had to admit, whilst the sounds of the outdoors had kept you up, the bed had been surprisingly comfy.

There had to be some perks for being this far detached from proper civilisation.

“Might as well get up,” you decided, flinging back the blankets and padding across the hall into the quaint bathroom. You hadn’t paid a lot of attention last night to the house, too exhausted from travelling for two days. As you did your morning skincare routine, you used the mirror to look around your space. It had a cozy cottage-core vibe that you had recently seen come up as a trend on Pinterest.

“Natty loves things like this,” you told the home, smiling softly before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

The house was decorated warmly. Although many modern conveniences were missing, you couldn’t help but feel like you were in a home that was cherished.

Someone must have loved this place like that at one point in time, you thought, jumping when the phone went off again.

“Hello?”

“Miss L/N, is that you?”

“Ah, yes it is, who am I speaking to?”

“Oh! June told me that someone was staying at the old Jung house so I figured I’d give you a bell and offer you some breakfast down at the diner. You won’t miss it. We’re the first building on Main  Street.”

“That’s so kind of you to offer, but I have all the ingredients for a power green smoothie here-”

“Smoothie? Darling, a drink isn’t going to give you enough energy to get through your day.”

“Pardon?”

“Aren’t you starting your surveying job of Blayne today? There’s a lot to get through.”

Not really, you thought wickedly and bit your lip in case you said anything out loud. “Ah, right. Well, I’ll come down then.”

“Do come!” And then the line went dead.

“Who was I even speaking to?” you wondered when you placed down the phone, blinking slowly.

You got ready and headed down the bumpy drive and then another fifteen minutes until you reached what the inhabitants of this strange place called Main Street. You had to admit, it was the only area of Blayne were you saw more than two people at once, and it relaxed you to be back around people.

You hadn’t realised just how overcrowded the city was when you found yourself now missing the constant sight of people.

Once you parked your car, you got out and locked it, checking to make sure the door wouldn’t open. You heard a snigger from the sidewalk. “You’re new here.”

“Ah, yes.”

“You don’t need to lock your car here. No one is going to steal it,” the young girl said, eying you curiously. You nodded politely and walked inside the diner, instantly hit with the smell of fried food.

You were hungrier than you expected.

“Miss L/N!” a voice called, and everyone in the establishment turned to look at you.

Smiling politely and rushing over to the front counter, you sat down on a stool. The woman who greeted you smiled graciously. “I’m May.”

“May… June-”

May laughed. “Our parents weren’t all that creative with our names. I’m June’s older sister.”

“Oh! It’s nice to meet you. Please, feel free to call me Y/N.”

“Earl, can you serve up our guest the breakfast special?” May called out without taking her eyes off of you.

You smiled gently before darting your gaze to the menu distractedly. “You have a nice place here. Do you sell soy chai lattes?”

“Soy what?”

“Ah, nothing. Coffee. Coffee will do.”

“Black or white, darling? Any sugar?”

After sorting yourself with caffeine, you then glanced around again. There were about six others in total, and most of them were looking in your direction. Nodding politely at them, you turned back to May.

“I guess you don’t get many visitors.”

“They don’t stay long, no,” she replied, placing a large plate loaded with a fried assortment and pancakes. You eyed the meal. It would be triple the macros for your daily intake. Still, you were hungry.

You picked up your knife and fork. “They don’t?”

“I think the last person stayed a week. That was pretty long.”

“Only a week?” you cut into a hashbrown. “Why did they leave so soon?”

“Unless you’re a farmer or born into farming, you wouldn’t really enjoy being out here. We have only twelve stores. Nothing arrives here quickly, and you have to be pretty self-sufficient to survive. There’s not a lot calling people here.”

“There could be. I mean, you have a lot of land-”

“For farming,” May cut in, and you swallowed down a bit of hashbrown before nodding.

“Yes, but it’s beautiful and picturesque. People who want to escape the daily grind would flock to a place like this if there was an establishment to stay in.”

“Our inn hasn’t had a guest since nineteen-eighty-three. You want to know why?”

“It has a ghost story?” you asked innocently, and May merely smiled haughtily.

“The only people staying in Blayne were born and raised here, Y/N. You’ll soon realise the utopia you and your company are hoping to build out here is a pipe dream.”

_________________

Part 3

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[imnotasuperhero]

I would lie and say you’re not in my mind.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Stark!Reader

Type: Angst.

Summary: Reader finds herself alone, with no explanation as to where Wanda went. And life without her was a true nightmare she could only scape with not-so-nice coping mechanisms.

Wordcount: 2644

Warnings: Drug abuse, one suicidal thought and depression.

A/N: This is my submission for @jbbarnesnnoble writing challenge! I’m so sorry for the delay. Life and work got in the middle, leaving me drained to get some actual writing done. You can search this and other works with the tag #JBBNNMHAMChallenge which deals with different types of mental healt, as to raise awarenes about it.

A/N 2: Since it’s inspired in real events, I decided to twist this and give it a happy ending. People need to know there is hope. No matter how hard life becomes, you’ve got this and you shouldn’t suffer alone. Fight your fear and seek for help. I promise, life is worth living.

A huge than you to @marvelfansince08love for enduring her patience with my rants and mini meltdown about this monster. I could never thank you enough for puting up with my dumb ass, boo. I owe you a lot! <3

If you guys want more, I might have a plot for some kind of spin-off for this story. Just let me know. Also, criticism is welcomed.

"Miss Stark," one of the executives called your attention. "Your nose is bleeding."

Automatically, your fingers found your nose and yup, it was happening. Fucking hell.

Excusing yourself, you left the conference room with rapid steps to the closest bathroom, dismissing whoever you crossed on your way. You weren't new to this, after all.

Once you got the bleeding under control, you inspected yourself in the mirror. The reflection staring back at you was nothing like your old self. The circles under the eyes needed much more concealing and your smiles were forced. But at least you picked a black blouse today, which it'll do until you got a chance to go back home and change.

"Are you sure you don't want to go home?" Julia asked sheepishly.

"No. I'm capable of handling the rest of the day," you mumbled as you finished the last touches to your make-up.

"Mr. Stark could find-"

"Mr. Stark will find out shit," you cut your assistant. "This is just a sneeze that caused a vein to pop. Understood?" You could see how the woman in front of you shivered slightly and you almost laugh at it. You've become so pity.

"Y-yes, Miss. Is there anything else I can do?"

"No." You inspected yourself in the mirror once again before walking out. "Go over the rest of my day and make sure you send the informs to Stewart."

Fortunately, the day progressed smoothly with very few bumps. And none of them were about you, so you took it as a victory.

Kicking your high heels after closing the door behind you, you started to strip while walking towards the bathroom. The weekend was finally here, which meant you could wind out and enjoy your own company. After the latest events on Beto's, you made sure to lay low for a while. You didn't need another clingy bitch hanging from you all the time. You were just a gal wanting to have some release. Nothing more, nothing less.

In the middle of your calming bath, the sharp razor you kept for emergencies caught your eyes. 'God, it'd be so easy.' You thought to yourself. Just a little line in the right place would do it. The consuming pain would disappear and you'd be free. Hell, maybe you'd find her again in the afterlife.

Before you could continue the line of thoughts, your phone rang with your dad's personalized ringtone. Something you made sure of for when you were doing not-so-nice activities.

"Hey, dad." You absentmindedly sank deeper in the tub. The bubbly water covering up to under your jaw.

"Hi, Peanut." Tony's voice soothed your damaged soul the littlest bit. "It's been a while. How are you?"

"I'm fine," you answered nonchalantly. Lying has become second nature by now. "Living the life. How are you guys?"

"That's what I called you about. Pepper and I want you to come to spend the weekend here. We barely see you outside work so we thought it'd be nice to take advantage of the long weekend. Pleeeeaaase? With a cherry on top?" He finished in a child's voice and you felt your heart squeeze itself.

Truth was, you were tired of lying all the time. You were tired of faking and saying you were okay when you weren't.

"Okay," you sighed. 

"Yay!" Yup, he was a child. "We'll get your room ready. We'll have your favorite."

You didn't know the exact moment you started crying, your dad going a mile a minute talking about his latest invention and how he'd love for you to help him figure out the last touches.

Hanging up, you finally let out the awaiting sobs. Memories of an easier -and happier- time plaguing your mind, making it harder and harder to breathe. Life without her sucked balls.

After drying yourself and throwing on a fresh pair of pajamas, you quickly fixed your bag for the weekend, knowing fully well you'll wake up with just the right spare time before you had to leave for your dad's.

The next morning, you woke up before your alarm went off, which would be fine if it weren't for Wanda appearing in your dreams. Promises of a better life and reaching milestones together, fanning the painful fire in your heart.

Walking to your stash, you retrieved the white powder, forming three consecutive lines on your nightstand. A small straw between your fingers ready to be used. You wouldn't be able to consume when you were at your dad's, so you better took your chance before it was too late. Odin knew you needed the boost.

Stopping at a random café a few blocks from your home, you quickly got yourself a black coffee and a muffin before hitting the pedal once again, changing the playlist to something more upbeat. 

Soon enough, your mind drifted to the impromptu road trips you'd do with Wanda. Sometimes even a week-long trip. Just the two of you apart from the chaos of your lives. 

Out on the road, it was only laughs, music, and fast food with the occasional make-out sessions. God, if you could, you'd live in the past forever. 

Stepping out of your car, you couldn't help the smile that broke your face. Working in the same place as your dad didn't mean you've got to see him every day. And being honest, you were happy he offered you scape from her curse.

"Hi, dad." You answered once you reached him, returning his hug. And boy, didn't you felt safe in those strong arms. They never failed to soothe you.

After what seemed like hours of walking around your dad's property, you and Pepper came back to the house ready for a refreshing iced tea. But any trace of a nice calming bath dissipated away when you say your dad standing in the middle of the living room, his face stoic.

"What's this?" The quietness of his voice freezing your blood.

"I'm waiting, Y/N." 

You cringed at your dad's voice. The disappointment showing in his eyes made you regret not checking before you grabbed a random bag for this trip.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me this is not what I think it is," he begged, showing you and Pepper the almost empty baggy between his fingers. And you ignored him. He already knew the truth, after all. "Say it," he growled.

"So the bleeding nose-"

"Screw you," you muttered, cutting Pepper mid-sentence.

"Hey! That's no way to talk to her,"

"You know what?" You walked to your dad, looking up to his eyes. "Yes, I'm an addict. Good job, Sherlock. Now you can get rid of me as you did with my mom. After all, you never wanted me in the first place, so why should it matter." You snapped with burning tears in your eyes. "There's no need to keep faking it anymore." You walked away, leaving them mouth agape, trying to process your words.

Plopping down on your bed, you couldn't help the feeling of failure igniting inside you. The tears in your eyes burning your eyes as they appeared, flowing down your cheeks as the sadness and emptiness became just too much to handle.

You didn't remember when was the last time you were genuinely happy. And it sucked that it depended on someone. It sucked and you despised it more than anything. But then again, Wanda was everything you'd need to live in this world. Always positive, with a smile so bright that could light up the darkest room. Her eyes? God, you loved losing yourself in those green orbs of hers in the afterglow. And now you had to live without all these little things that made you happy. All the little moments of joy were gone, tuning you into this sack of bones and flesh, with no expectations for life.

It wasn't till much later that night that you left your room, after ignoring your dad's callings.

Padding your way to the bar, you served yourself a whiskey. The burning on your troat a welcomed feeling. Your mind going back to her, as it was the normalcy since she dusted away, leaving you with thousands of questions and a hole in your heart that you knew well you could never fill again. How could you, when you knew she was it? how could you even try to patch it up, when you knew there was no one else like her?

One whiskey turned into 5 and you didn't know when you started to cry, considering you thought there were no tears left after all these years. But the strong hand on your shoulder made you snap from your pity party, hurriedly drying your tears. Crying was for the weak, and boy were you weak.

"I'm sorry," you drowned the last of your drink before looking up, mustering the best stoic face you could.

"You don't need to fake around me, Peanut. We're family," your dad poured you another drink as he got one himself. 

"Look, what happened with your mother has nothing to do with you." He continued once he sat beside you. "And I would never leave you alone, Y/N. No matter how many headaches you give me." He joked but composed himself when you didn't react to it. "I- Pepper is pregnant. And we really want you in the baby's life. But.. Look, if there was a way to bring her back, I would. In a heartbeat. But Y/N, you have to understand, she wouldn't like this version of you. If not for yourself, do it for us,"

You wanted to speak, you wanted to answer him. But the lump in your throat was too big to swallow and the knife in your heart twisted when you saw your dad's eyes tearing up. And fuck did it hurt. To see him cry -for the first time- pained you like hell. And knowing you were the cause of those tears made you feel like you were the worst person alive. 

"I-," you paused to gather your bearings, but your dad beat you to it.

"I know, Peanut," his arms surrounded you in that way that only him could.

"I promise you," he continued once you broke away. "One day, it will get easier. Those feelings will never fully go away, but it will get easier." He dried your tear-stained cheeks softly. "You are not alone. And she'll always be with you,"

 And despite the grief eating you from the inside, you knew you had to live. For them. For her.

The next few months had been a true rollercoaster. You didn't know the abstinence would affect you so badly. And while others would have it much worse, you couldn't help the change of moods and the few tears you caused to those around you. Not to mention, the significant drop in your moods. But you also knew better. You've kept your word, and you hadn't touched it again. 

Under Natasha's supervision, you got rid of every secret stash you had at both, your apartment and your office, and you deleted the number of your dealer. And even if sometimes it seemed like hell would manifest itself as Nat was your watcher, you couldn't be more glad because, admittedly, the woman had balls and she did knew how to bribe you, to the point that you'd even quit drinking even if it was more of a social addiction, in your case. That, mixed with Natasha's friendship and support -as well as those around you- and the birth of Morgan, your little sister had you believing once more, even if you knew you'd never get to be the same person you once were. 

The little bundle of joy had come to this world with a few rays of sunshine for you, finally opening your eyes and making you realize that there was hope. Even if you never saw her again, life was worth living and you'd live it for her at your best capacity. 

So when Pepper asked you to babysit Morgan for a few days, considering she couldn't bring a 2 months old baby with her, you accepted in a heartbeat.

But as you were awoken by a fussing Morgan, after an eventful night in which you barely slept, you realized this might've not been your brightest idea.

Inhaling deeply, you got up and walked to her room, picking her up from her crib and rocking her as you made your way to the kitchen. Babies were a fucking clock. Which only served to add to your decision of never having kids. 

If you were on the verge of tears most of the time, wishing deeply for her parents to come back so you could have time for yourself, you knew you'd be mental if you had to live through this for the rest of your life.

Your ears catching the front door opening made you stop mid singing, turning around as you walked to the hushed words as you feed a calmed down Morgan just to stop dead in your tracks when you saw her. The only reason you stood still, was the baby in your arms. 

Your eyes scanned the room, looking for a sign that this was just a dream. That the image of your girlfriend was just a projection of your mind, like so many other times before during these 5 years since she disappeared from your arms. But the silence surrounding you all and 8 pairs of eyes inspecting you made you realize that this wasn't a dream.

The cries of Morgan took you all from your reverie and soon, Pepper was by your side, taking the baby from your arms before kissing the top of your head, something she always did whenever you felt unsettled.

"Peanut-"

"Is she real?" You questioned as you scrutinized a fidgety Wanda, who stood by the door, ready to run away if needed.

Natasha could sense your turmoil growing with every single second that passed and soon enough you felt a strong pair of arms supporting you, ready to catch you if you fell.

"She's here, Maliska. We brought her back," she spoke quietly, making sure you understood her words.

The wild thoughts on your mind got you walking towards her. The need to touch her and prove yourself that she was back, got your fingers itching. You could feel the blood running in your ears and you shaking steps as you got closer to who you thought was gone forever, leaving you empty and moving through life like a zombie.

The choke that broke through you when your hand cupped her cheek got you smiling as tears rolled down with every erratic thump of your heart.

"You're here," you whispered, afraid of breaking the spell you've found yourself into. 

But you couldn't stay in that thought for long because an intimately familiar pair of arms surrounded you as Wanda threw yourself at you, hiding her face on the crook of your neck.

Feeling her hot breath against your skin was all you needed to finally give in and hold her with all you had, knowing that she was here; with you.

You didn't know how long you both stood there, holding each other and basking in the calmness that surrounded you. All your previous tormenting thoughts dissipated in that exact moment. Wanda was back and you found the hole in your heart start to fill itself.

"Hi, Printsessa," Wanda murmured against your neck, kissing her way up to your jaw, peppering your face with kisses before she finally kissed your lips. And boy, did your knees trembled.

After 5 long years, the lips you've got used to kissing whenever you pleased were once against yours, igniting all the love and hope and good things you got to feel once upon a time.

You can find the continuation, here (:

Taglist: @summergeezburr @wannabe-fic-reader @natasha-danvers @jumbojamba47 @rooskaya-yelena @sananabdliw @aaron-despair @username23345 @nate-the-dreamer @higherfurther-romanova

[writeiolite]

curiosity killed the cat — [ WTF U! 18 ]

❝ You’re close to your dream life: early graduation and big-city opportunities. A one night stand with Oikawa turned into two, which turned to three, which somehow turned into two little lines on a plastic stick. It was nice being able to live your dreams, but suddenly it’s time for you both to wake the fuck up and start being parents. ❞

wc: 2,027

WTF U!: m.list . 18 . 19

There’s that saying about butter and a knife and tension, right? That would’ve been a dream these past couple days. Instead, Tooru wasn’t sure if there’s any blade that could cut through the heavy weight between his brother and sister-in-law. Whatever caused them to storm out of his game had nothing to do with him, but it was affecting him enough to not want to stick around any longer. Even the pleading looks from Takeru could never convince him to stay — if anything, he wants to take him too.

Neither of the two adults is passive-aggressive by any means, but Tooru definitely heard the hushed arguments from their bedroom and watched how Tarou would sometimes clench his jaw during meal conversations. There was no denying the tired, faux smile on Akiko’s face when she’d see Tooru after work, but there was also no confronting it. He’s not going to butt into their relationship, but he’ll wish them the best of luck from afar. It’s surprising to see them fight, especially to such a degree in a short amount of time, but that’s exactly why he wants to stay out of it.

“If things between Y/N and I can improve, then there’s hope,” he cheekily teases Akiko in the doorway, his duffle bag hanging on his shoulder. “Thank you for letting me stay this long. Tell Tarou I said thanks too when he gets home.”

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “I will! I hope that means things between you two are getting better.”

He nods proudly. Sure, he messed up in the end, but that call felt like progress back to where you two once were. Just getting to hear your voice in a casual setting, without expectations, made his heart lighter. It’s been so long since he felt that with you, but he’s never forgotten the feeling. Behind the smile, he’s sporting are thoughts and memories of you as he drives back to his apartment.

He didn’t ask what you had been up to when he called and that only means his mind wanders now. Months ago, you two were strangers to each other, last names and formalities, and your job was the only thing tying you together. Now it’s what pulled you apart and he can’t seem to balance the bitterness with the longing he has for you.

Do you miss him too? Do you despise him too? Part of him wants to see you just so he can yell at you again, to lecture you and dig his words in with a knife and bury his heart with a shovel. And the other part of him wants to visit so he can hold your hand. Just that. Right now, all he wants is the simplicity of holding your hand again because that was something consistent for the two of you when the road got rocky.

As for you, your inner turmoil is still muted, but maybe that call did something. It’s clear that the two of you bond over nostalgic thoughts, which only serves to make you more conflicted about the call. If he called just to make you feel something again then it worked, but you don’t want to feel anything.

You just want to work. Right now, that’s the only thing you can do best.

“Y/N…”

You look up from your computer at the sound of Dayoung’s soft voice, alarm causing your eyebrows to lift. She looks worried. You might have to retract that earlier statement.

“Yes?”

Her neatly manicured hand waves a paper with a small swish. “Is everything okay? I noticed you requested some days off in December and quite a few next year as well.”

How do I say “Your ex knocked me up and those are my maternity appointments?”

Hesitation grabs hold of your lips, especially when Dayoung furrows her brows at you.

“I’m fine!” You hold up your hands in reassurance. “I just have a few appointments and some fam- guests might be coming to see me.”

Now one neat brow comes up. “Ohh, family? Liiikkeeeee a boyfriend?”

Pfft, who is she? Rina?

“Something like that…! How’d you and your husband meet?” You need to change the topic before she drags out the f-word again. Hearing the word come out of your mouth surprised you more than her, for sure. And since when have you started referring to things as _-word?! How does that infuriating man still have an impact on you?

She doesn’t spare a breath before she’s pouring out the words like a memorized speech, much to your relief.

“We met through an ex-boyfriend of mine, actually. He and Paulo were volleyball teammates in Argentina but my ex wanted to go Olympic while I wanted to settle down. Things didn’t work out, Paulo ended up helping me start up this business, and then the rest was history!” There’s an uncharacteristically dreamy look in her eyes when she talks about it, but somehow it makes your stomach flutter with butterflies and… surprise.

So much for not having feelings. But how can you not? She met her husband through Oikawa? Is that why he’s so fragile now? Maybe the swirling in your gut isn’t the fuzzing feeling of romance but the churning of stomach acid right before you puke.

The resemblance of the two scenarios is too uncanny, but you can’t tell which is worse, honestly. All you know is suddenly your lungs aren’t as big as you thought they were when you think about Oikawa going through this twice on different ends of the spectrum. Shouldn’t this mean he understands where you’re coming from to some degree? Right now, you can barely swallow down everything Dayoung has spilled to you.

Yet you want to know more.

“Did you hold it against your ex?” you gulp out, not meeting her eyes. “Prioritizing his job over settling down? Does he hold it against you?”

“No, I could never,” she immediately tells you with a rosy smile that comforts and confuses you. “He may still be hurt because I couldn’t wait to get married, but I think it just shows that we weren’t meant to be anyway. We had different goals. I heard through the grapevine that he’s doing really well now and I… I’m happy for him…”

The small pause that follows is due to the look on Dayoung’s face. Her eyes are far from dull and a reminiscent curve plays on her glossy lips. Maybe the hint of pink on her cheeks is from her makeup… or maybe it’s not.

It doesn’t hurt to see that expression on her beautiful face, but rather you wish you had the same look. You wish Oikawa would think about the future and be okay with your choice because, truly, your heart is aching now when you think about raising this baby with financial stability and no present father figure. It may be wrong, but Dayoung has something you want.

She has a flower garden for smiles when Paulo comes around while you have vines and weeds around your heart. Maybe you were misguided in leaving, but what other choice did you have?!

“I believe your résumé said you worked at the athletic club he trains at so you might know him. Small world isn’t it?” She rips you away from your noxious thoughts with a direct smile at you, this smile much different than the one she had for Oikawa.

“Yeah,” you push out with a nervous laugh. “Small world. But I’ll probably never go back there. I think I’m at home here.”

And home you are, a few hours after that, at least. Somehow the rest of your workday was complete hell. All you could think about was Dayoung, her husband, and Oikawa. Just a few days ago you were sighing dreamily over her marriage but now you feel like there’s something off about it.

And the call from Oikawa? What exactly did he need from you? Why did you let him talk for so long? Ripping out your hair and scratching your head isn’t going to dig up the answers, but a little snooping might…

Even after the long hours at your office computers, you still manage to keep your eyes trained on your laptop when you pull up Dayoung’s Facebook. Online stalking your boss is definitely not the way to go, but you want to look at someone else’s drama for once.

Shared post.

Scroll.

Tagged in a photo.

Scroll.

Timehop.

Scroll.

Happy photo with a younger Oikawa.

Scroll.

Boring.

The iced tea beside you is watering down the longer you sit there, without any progress, but you can’t bring yourself to do anything but drink in the words on the screen. Especially when you type in her fiancé’s name on her profile, hoping for results.

Vacation post in Dubai.

Photos of their dog.

Tagged in a post.

Each one dates farther back until you finally find something of importance: an engagement post.

Wait-

There’s no way this can be right. You swore you just saw a similar date on a previous post… And now I have to scroll all the way through again- Oh.

No, you don’t. As luck would have it, in her fickle form, you don’t have to scroll too far. You went back to her home page and scrolled right back to where you were, finding the engagement post with sickening ease, posted just mere weeks after that happy photo with a certain volleyball player.

Your vision blurs a little, lungs closing up, and fingers freezing as you try to fool yourself into thinking you’re wrong. There’s no way she got engaged so soon after the two of them broke up. Nothing could convince you to believe that! She just looked so enamored with Oikawa hours ago, why would she c-

You don’t know the whole truth, you don’t know the whole truth.

Your small lungs expand as you ground yourself with a big breath of a reality check. Even then, you’re met with the familiar churning in your stomach. All you wanted was to do a little snooping on Dayoung and figure out why she’s so… elusive. But now you understand why people say curiosity killed the cat.

Too bad they have nine lives.

“Hey, Aki!”

“Y/N, hi! How are you?”

Just great! Found out my boss might be a cheater and- Fuck.

You freeze up again, realization hitting you much harder now because this is Akiko you’re talking to about your boss and Oikawa’s ex. The same Akiko that once said she doesn’t know Dayoung Silva… But wouldn’t she know his-

You gasp sharply before you even realize it, bringing your hand to your mouth as if to swallow the sound — or your suspicions — back up.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“H-hey uh,” your mind fails you, “what else do you know about Oikawa’s ex?”

“Like what?”

“Like uh… Why they broke up?”

“He wasn’t ready for marriage but she was and his parents wanted him to be. So they ended up splitting. Why do you ask?”

Of course, what else could you expect? She’s been lying to you this whole time about not knowing- no. No, no, no, it could be a coincidence. She may not know about Dayoung’s marriage.

“I was just wondering,” you mumble out, not completely convinced. But what choice do you have? Aki’s your closest friend right now that knows about the pregnancy — your only friend that knows. If you’re going to believe in anybody, it has to be her.

She may not know.

“Do you think that’s what’s happening with us right now? Except the roles are reversed?”

You don’t hear the sigh of relief Akiko lets out, nor do you see the glare Tarou gives her. “Yeah, but it’s still a little different. You shouldn’t compare the two situations.”

“I know, but…” Dayoung is his ex and I just realized you told me you didn’t know her, and history is repeating itself and I don’t know how to feel about the situation because I just want it all to go away.

“I guess I’m just paranoid.”

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[jesussavedevenme]

To Be A Knight

This is the beginning of a collection of one shots following Seth's adventures as a Knight of the Dawn

Description: Like most young boys Seth had always dreamed of being a spy. He had spent most of his childhood sneaking around the house with a walky-talky while humming the Mission Impossible theme song. And while he technically still wasn't a spy,he was pretty darn close.

May 20

St.Matthew's Island, Alaska

6:25 pm

"Sorenson, I've got a job for you." came a gruff voice from down the hall. Seth turned and saw his handler, a man by the name of Flynn Hotching, leaning out of the door to his office. Flynn was a tall and strong man with a broad frame. At fifty five he was in excellent shape and the only indications to his age were the flecks of white that were sprinkled throughout his dark hair and neatly trimmed beard. Flynn was a serious man and often gave off an intimidating vibe, but Seth knew that he wasn't that bad once you got to know him.

Seth stood, ignoring the way his back popped and cracked in protest because of how long he had spent sitting in the rather uncomfortable wooden chair. He had once started a petition to replace them with those really comfortable bean bag chairs. He actually had quite a few supporters. But Flynn, being the man he was, just rolled his eyes and walked away. Seth could feel the stares of his fellow knights burning into the back of his head as he made his way over but opted to ignore it. Seth got missions quite frequently, a fact that many knights were slightly jealous of since it would occasionally get him out of some the more mundane tasks a Knight had to complete. For example, paper work. Which is what he had been doing when he had been called. He quickly made his way over, eager to get away from the evil sea of inevitable paper cuts. He couldn't help but chuckle as he mentally heard Eve calling him a drama queen. Though she wasn't much better.

Flynn barely waited for the door of his to close behind him before he began pouring out the details of whatever job he had lined up.

" There's a dealer that's been causing us some problems. They are preying on creatures such as unicorns and there has been some rumors that they are working with some less than savory characters. I need you to track them down. " Flynn stated firmly. Seth narrowed his eyes, there was no way it was that easy. If it was that simple then they would have brought in a rookie.

"Ok, what's the catch." He replied crossing his arms over his chest.The man heaved a sigh before sliding a file towards him.

" The catch is we don't have any idea who the dealer is. We don't even have a description. However, all of our dealers crimes have a certain flare to them and we have reason to believe that he is human. We have intercepted news of a deal taking place in three days in Belize. "

Seth read the file and whistled at the lack of information. The file was extremely limited which meant that whoever was doing this knew what they were doing. The Knights of the Dawn had excellent connections and kept tabs on every possible threat so for them to be this uninformed- well lets just say it wasn't good. It also meant he was walking into this mission completely blind. He couldn't plan for anything meaning he had to plan for everything. He had no idea what was going to happen once he got there but, if you ask Seth, that was part of the fun.

"Alright I'll do it." Seth replied after a moment of thought. He had to admit he only pretended to think about it, mostly just for the suspense. He had always loved a good mystery and this mission honestly excited him.

"Good, your plane leaves tomorrow at eight am sharp. You will be issued a bag that will be stocked with supplies but I advise you to bring anything you think would be useful" He said gesturing to the satchel over his shoulder, that served as his emergency kit. " I have wired five thousand dollars into your account but if you need more than that you know who to call." Seth nodded, placing the folder in his satchel and walked out of the office, heading to his apartment to prepare for the mission ahead. He pulled his coat tighter around his body as he walked outside and realized that it was later than he had originally thought. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon and though Seth loved the pinks and oranges that painted the sky, he could practically feel the temperature dropping. Last time he had checked it was 25 degrees, which is no where near as cold as it could get but it was still very cold. Despite how long he had been in Alaska, he had yet to get used to the bitter cold. And he honestly didn't think he ever would. Seth guessed he should count himself lucky, this was the Knights biggest base and it had been cleverly hidden by distractor spells as well as the natural terrain of the island. Seth shivered as a strong gust of wind blew through the base reminding him of the other reason it stayed hidden from most people. Luckily he lived on the grounds of the base so it was only about a minutes walk.

The Knights of the Dawn had no shortage of money. Seth wasn't sure how they got there hands on so much money and honestly he didn't want to know. It was all warranted though considering how many supplies they had to buy along with the amount of damage control. It was amazing sometimes how much chaos a secret organization could cause. Seth knew he definitely wasn't the favourite over in the legal department because of some of the 'incidents' that had been a result of his missions. Seth was proud to be able to state that these incidents were few and far between but when they did happen he knew they had to be a nightmare to clean up.

Needless to say, with all that money, his apartment was very nice. It had a decent size living room and kitchen which connected go a small dining area. Upstairs there was two bedrooms and a bathroom. Seth's furniture was pretty sparse if he was being honest. He had a couch that had been there when he moved in, his bed, a desk, a small dining table that has also come with the apartment, as well as few chairs scattered here and there. It didn't bother him in the slightest. He honestly wasn't here that often. He slept there when he wasn't out on missions which, once again, was pretty rare. Besides the real fun began downstairs. He walked down the stairs into what appeared to be a musty, unfinished basement. A punching bag hung from one of the exposed beams and a small pile of weights sat not far from it. Seth rarely used those, they were reserved for restless nights when the big communal gym and training area was closed for the night.

Seth strode confidently towards the back wall and slid away a lose board revealing a keypad. It was truly a horrible hiding spot for something that important but there wasn't really anything he could do about it. The neat thing about the keypad though was that it had been enchanted so that he was the only one who could touch it. Meaning that not only did you need the correct code, but he had to be the one to punch it in. He wasn't exactly sure what would happen if someone else touched it but he knew it would do more than just set off an alarm. Stuff like always made Seth feel like a true spy and totally made up for the unsecured hiding space.

Seth punched in the code and heard the distinct sound of stone scraping on stone, briefly reminding him of his few days spent in the Sphinx's prison. When the sound stopped, a small opening was revealed that lead to a room containing his weapons and supplies. From the outside the room appeared to be tiny and cramped but it had also been enchanted to be much bigger on the inside. It wasn't quite as big as the knapsack they had all those years ago but it was nothing to sneeze at. Still, no matter how big it was on the outside, Seth had to crouch down to fit through the opening. The door frame was ridiculously short and the amount of time he had smacked his head against the top was honestly embarrassing. The supplies inside the room was a knights dream. There was everything you could dream of, swords, daggers, armor, bows, you name it. The special thing about this room though, was that most of the items were his. They were things he had gathered prior to becoming a knight. Seth also had several magical talismans and tools that had gotten him out of more than a few sketchy situations. His favorite talisman was a ring that sat on his right forefinger. The ring had been a gift from The Fairy King when Seth had been accepted into the Knights Academy. It was pitch black and didn't look like much at first glance however, when you looked closer you could see three unicorns that were engraved on its surface, each of which served more functional purposes. The first unicorn, when pressed, sent out a distress signal strong enough to reach Bracken even if he was in the fairy realm. The distress signal also went out to anyone who had a connected talisman. At this point the only ones being himself and Kendra who had gotten hers when she officially began dating Bracken in the form of a bracelet. The second unicorn held a few precious drops of unicorn blood. The substance could heal almost anything but it could only be used once. The final unicorn was arguably Seth's favorite. When it was pressed it would release a pearly white dagger which had been extremely helpful in the past. The downside to this tool was that, since it was made of light, he tended to have a harder time controlling it.

Seth looked through his stash, trying to decide which weapons were right for this particular mission. He knew at this point stealth was key but if you leave for a job without a weapon, you're just going to get yourself killed.

When going on stealth missions the best route to take is small weapons that can be easily concealed, such as daggers or blow darts. However, the problem with that was those were easily detected when going through airport security. Ever since becoming a knight Seth had decided that he hated flying. It was loud, chaotic, and absolutely impossible to tell who was a danger to you.

Plus carrying weapons onto the plane was pretty much impossible but, a knight needed to be prepared in every situation. The weapon had to be easily accessible, ready at a moments notice, and the best way to do that is to build a weapon that doesn't look like a weapon. Seth walked over to a small red tool box tucked away in the corner, and pulled out a large nut and and tied a piece of cord to it. He secured the cord and then started to spin it, making sure nothing was going to fall off. And just like that he had a weapon that made a killer whip and could easily crack a mans skull if it came down to that. The best part was that it wouldn't trip any alarms. Sure it might seem a little odd that someone carries a piece of cord tied to a nut but, he wouldn't get arrested for it. Seth tied the lose cord around his neck, creating a necklace that he could hide underneath his shirt until it was needed. When that was finished he turned his attention to his emergency kit and sifted through the various items, taking out anything that would tip off a scanner. Seth gathered the items that he had taken out and moved towards the suitcase that he would be taking with him. He felt around one of the sides and unzipped a pocket so small that you most likely wouldn't see unless you knew it was there. In the pocket he placed the remaining items of his emergency kit. This time he wasn't worried about the items being seen as the pocket had been enchanted to hide the items from sight. Seth then repeated the process with the bottom of the suitcase, peeling back the inside to reveal a similar compartment that had also been enchanted to be bigger. In this pocket he placed two daggers, A blow gun and darts, and his favorite sword. He pulled the sword out of it's sheath and inspected it for any chips or dull edges. The sword was jet black and held the name Shadow Slayer, which was kind of ironic given its nature. The sword held just enough darkness to work well with him but not so much that there was a risk it would corrupt him. He had found the sword while on a mission for the fairy realm not long before joining the Knights. He was pretty sure he wasn't going to use it because lets face it, milk or no milk a sword was still a sword. However, Seth had learned that it payed to be prepared. So with that thought in mind, he placed the sheathed sword in the compartment, closed it up, and began to carry it upstairs to his bedroom. He filled the rest of the suit case with clothes and other essentials and once he was satisfied that he had everything, he closed it up.

He slumped down in his desk chair and pulled out the file he had stashed in his emergency kit, pouring over what little detail it had and attempting to prepare for what was to come.

†††††

May 21

St.Matthews Island, Alaska

5:00am

The next morning Seth was up well before five am preparing for the mission ahead. Thankfully he had always been a morning person so the early hour didn't bother him in the slightest. He grabbed his bags and exited the apartment, heading to the missions office to pick up the final things he would need for this job.

The lady at the desk, He pretty sure her name is Jennifer, smiled at him as he approached the counter. She was a women in her mid thirties and she was one of the nicer people that worked the desk. There were quite a few of the people working here that obviously didn't want to and others who even seemed to resent it. Seth really couldn't blame them though, he had worked here for a few months while he was going through training and it definitely hadn't been the most fun or exciting job out there.

" ID and case number?" She asked as more of a formality than anything else. Seth was such a regular visitor that he was pretty sure they knew who he was. However, since it was required, he slid showed them his badge and rattled the number off anyway. Seth supposed that he coukd see the logic behind the badge. It was a way of identifing someone beyond ther looks. All of them had been enchanted fo return to their owners, generally via their pocket, should they be lost. Seems simple and secure enough. However, in their line of work things were rarely that black and white. Seth is not entirely sure what would happen to the badge if their was a stingbuld or if the enchantment could be removed. Luckily they didn't do much. They were just means of identification and they didn't let you into anything at all. Any area qhich required a certain level of access had several different enchantments placed on it. Ones that were designed to recognize the person requesting access and weed out potential imposters. After the battle of Zzyzx and the whole mess with the Evening Star, the knights had undergone huge security upgrades. Bracken as well as one of his sisters, Iredessa, had set mist of the enchantments. Kendra had also played a major part on strengthening these enchantments a few years ago.

The case numbers were pretty harmless. Not the most secure but all they did was let the people at the desk know what bag of supplies to get. It didn't give access to any crucial or confidential information. The most a fake could get was an issued duffle bag and possibly some.plane tickets.

Jennifer smiled as she stood and disappeared through a secured metal door. When she returned a few minutes later she was carrying a black duffle bag which she passed to him over the counter along with a two way plane ticket.

"Thanks a lot," Seth told her, flashing a bright smile her way. She hummed in response before responding,

"Stay safe out there,"

"I'll try my best," Seth replied with a grin as he headed towards the door and began the short treck to the parking lot where a car would take him to the airport. He knew he must have looked a little funny carrying around a huge duffle bag, suit case and a leather satchel that sat across his shoulder but he wasn't worried. Every Knight here had been in similar situations before. Seth looked around the parking lot, squinting in the bright morning sun, before making his way to the small grey jeep that sat close to the front. Leaning against the side was a tall guy with wind blown red hair and a lean build. Seth smiled when he spotted him. The man's name was Parker and he was one of Seth's closest friends here on the base. They had gone through training together though, Parker was about three years older than him. He was twenty-four while Seth was only twenty-one. Seth, unfortunately, hadn't had a lot of friends at that time. Because of his shadow charmer status, people tended to be wary of him but Parker had never been deterred by his abnormal abilities.

In between his own missions Parker volunteered to drive Knights back and forth to the airport. Due to Seth's frequent missions, the two usually ended up paired together.

"Another one Sorenson? Didn't you just finish that one in Sweeping Pine preserve like a week ago?"

" Yeah, Jealous?" Seth teased, raising his eyebrows. Parker laughed and shot a playful glare at the taller boy. Despite Parker's tall height, he was still at least and inch shorter than Seth. Though to be fair, not many people were taller than Seth. A fact that many people found unsettling.

" Just a little bit dude. What, you trying to show the rest of us up or something?" Parker laughed back, poking Seth in the side as he got into the car. Seth rolled his eyes as he loaded his bags into the car before following Parker's lead. They road in silence for several minutes as Parker navigated his way out of the crowded base and set up the directions to the international airport. It wasn't everyday that a Knight flew internationally for a mission. Generally if they were going to somewhere outside the country they were going to a preserve and would have to be flown there by helicopter or other means. So while it did happen, it didn't happen often.

Seth used the temporary quiet to unzip the bulky duffle bag and look at its contents.

Looking into his bag for a mission and seeing the certain supplies or gadgets still made him a bit giddy. Like most young boys, Seth had always wanted to be a spy. He had spent most of his childhood sneaking around the house with a cheap walky-talky while humming the mission impossible theme song. And while he technically wasn't a spy, he was pretty darn close. One of the common misconceptions about the Knights of the Dawn was that they didn't use any human or modern technology such as computers and other gadgets to do their job. However that was far from true. Sure they tended to avoid it when dealing directly with magical creatures, but they often used these gadgets for things such reconnaissance.

Inside the bag was some of the things you would expect such a binoculars and many more that you wouldn't expect. Seth's favorite part of these bags were the small box near the bottom that generally came with each one. The box contained different potions that you might need for the mission. Seth had always found potions to be fascinating. There had even been a time that he had considered going into the field himself. For this particular mission he had been given a night vision potion which was pretty self explanatory, An eavesdropping potion that enhanced his hearing and allowed him to listen in on a conversation without getting too close, and a form of truth serum that would loosen the lips of of someone you wish to get information from. There was at least three bottles of each along with the normal defense and first aid potions that were added. Such as, the gaseous potion, a potion for pain, a salve for injuries and many more. On top of that Tanu insisted on making sure that Seth was always stocked with his own personal set of potions. Tanu usually supplied him with more gaseous potions, a gummy potion, a giant potion, a new potion that enhanced his focus and his reflexes, as well as plenty of first aid related ones. He seemed to be convinced that Seth would end up seriously injured on every mission. Though sadly, Seth could admit, that the worry wasn't completely unfounded. Other than the potions, the bag contained an enchanted communicator, a few listening devices, a laptop, and a few other useful knick knacks.

" Got anything good in there?" Parker questioned.

" You bet," Seth replied holding up the box of potions that was in his bag even knowing that with his friends eyes on the road and so Parker probably couldn't see them. Parker laughed anyway not needing his eyes to know what Seth was referring to.

" Seth, I swear I have never seen anyone get so excited over potions before."

" What can I say, I'm a simple guy," He replied earning a scoff from Parker.

" Uh huh, says the literal Shadow Charmer who has a mission every other week," The pair laughed once again and fell into an easy back and forth banter. Continuing there shenanigans until they pulled into the airport. It was then, as much as he, loathed to do it he bid Parker farewell , thanked him for the ride, and walked into the crowded airport.

Arriving at the airport was just as hectic as he expected it to be. Of course it was crazy for everyone but, it was even more so when you are constantly looking over your shoulder or waiting to get stopped by airport security. Thankfully he was able to board the plane okay even if his makeshift weapon did raise a few eyebrows.

Something Seth had learned was that a knight should always fly economy. It may not be the most comfortable but few people would start a fight with that many witnesses around. Plus it was easier to blend in. A tee shirt and some jeans and you were all set. Ready to settle in for a long flight.

Seth popped one ear bud in his ear but left the other out in order to let him hear incoming threats. Seth found it impossible to sleep on a plane, no matter how long the journey was, because of the unknown circumstances. It would be difficult to keep an eye on people and to know who was a threat. Unlike Kendra, Seth hated reading. Only a few books had every managed to hold his attention for any.period of time. He was too restless. He would much rather be doing something outside. Moving and exploring. He didn't mind doing art, sketching being his favorite. However, that was difficult to do in a crowded, bunny plane. So Seth resigned himself to a long ride half listening to music and ignoring the guy beside him who vaguely smelled like onions.

††††

May 22

Corazol, Belize

4:45 pm

Seth stretched his stiff legs as he walked from baggage claim to the exit of the airport. He breathed deeply and relished the feeling of the sun on his skin, even though he knew he would quickly become hot. But, after a long eight and a half hour flight, they were welcome changes. He glanced at the clock hung on the wall and noted the time. He knew that Corazol Belize was about two hours ahead of Alaska. Not that it mattered. Seth was pretty much immune to jet lag at this point. Not necessarily because of the constant travel, though that certainly helped, but because of the erratic and uncertain sleep schedule he had become used to while on any mission. His body had become well trained in sleeping whenever it was told. The only thing that interrupted this was nightmares but he rarely got those while on missions because his mind was too focused on other things. Seth would never admit it but that's one of the reasons he takes on as many missions as they will give him.

Seth's hotel was not far from the airport so he opted to walk there. He had done some research the night before and found a hotel that he rented under the name of Roger Alpine. The Knights would usually rent one for you but Seth preferred to do it himself. To say the hotel he chose was run down would be putting it nicely. The paint was peeling horribly from the siding and it was definitely not on the nicest side of town. The rooms were separated from the outside by a door with A flimsy looking lock, something Seth would secure once he had settled in. The room held a musty scent mixed with the smell of cigarette smoke. There was a bed in the center of the room, covered in some unsettling stains, a side table and lamp beside it, and a desk under the window. The window itself had a pair of thin ratty curtains and crooked blinds. There wasn't much Seth could do about the window, except string up a blanket, which he did. Opening his suitcase and removing his clothes, he opened the hidden compartment. From inside he took out the pieces of his emergency kit that he had stashed. He also opened up the duffle bag he had and pulled out a few other various knick knacks that he thought he might find useful. He then empty the remaining items into the compartment at the bottom of his suitcase. Leaving the duffle bag empty. This was.common practice for Seth in a place like this. He didn't want to leave his unused supplies in a relatively unprotected duffle bag while he was away. Unfortunately this was something Seth had learned the hard way.

In the end Seth was left with: the box of potions, a rope, a small bottle which held a thin dust that immediately soaked into the skin upon contact allowing the victim to be tracked, dark sunglasses (which did indeed have a camera and microphone installed) , a slingshot, some marbles( which as Seth had found were great for distractions), binoculars, and a pair of ear buds. All of these things were packed neatly into his emergency kit, ready for use. He still had his makeshift weapon secured around his neck and two knife secured in a holster and strapped to each of his legs. He had glanced mournfully at his sword but knew that it would only draw in wanted attention. Besides today wasn't about getting into a fight. Today was about exploring Corazol and getting a lay of the land. Still it played to be prepared, hence the knives. Finally, satisfied that he was ready, Seth left the dingy hotel room and began to wander along the streets. Searching for anything that might lead him in the right direction.

Corazol was a quaint little sea side town. You could smell the salt in the air, carried by the cool breeze. Corazol was small in population but it also had its fair amount of tourists. Especially right now with summer just around the corner. The busy streets were lined with street vendors all vying for his attention but Seth was more interest in searching his surroundings. The smells coming from said street vendors were heavenly and caused his stomach to crumble loudly reminding him that not only had he not eaten breakfast this morning, but that he had been walking for over an hour. Technically he could have rented a car, he definitely had the funds for it, and most Knights probably would. However Seth, was not most Knights. He didn't like rental cars for many reasons, one because it was easier to see a car and a license plate then just someone walking in a crowd. Two, every rental car was required to have trackers and such in them to prevent theft which was fine in most cases but problematic for him. That wasn't necessarily a huge risk but it was still one Seth wasn't willing to take. Maybe he had grown paranoid, but he was still alive so there's that. Finally he didn't like rental cars because, in his line of work, it was likely to get beaten up or destroyed. Plus having a car would cause him to miss out on the unique sights, sounds, and smells. That is yet another thing Seth loved about his job. It allowed him to travel the world and to see as well as, experience things he would never get to otherwise.

He had to admit this was a good place to go if you were going to hunt for artifacts and magical creatures and then illegally sell them . The Cerror Ruins were only a few miles away and Seth knew that it was a prime spot for missing person's cases, especially when people wandered off alone. He hoped beyond hope that he wouldn't have to venture there during this trip but, that's definitely where he would go if he was an illegal dealer trying to avoid the Knights as well as any other prying eyes and ears. Plus it wasn't exactly a place you would expect anything big to happen. And besides the Cerror Ruins, their wasn't really anything magical about the place. It honestly seemed kind of ordinary. It was perfect because it tended to be overlooked.

After another thirty minutes had past, the rumbling in Seth's stomach became too overwhelming to ignore and he resolved find a place to eat. He stumbled upon a small hole in the wall restaurant that seemed to be pretty popular amongst the locals. Meaning it was the perfect place for Seth to gather some information.

Even though he worked directly with magical creatures, you'd be surprised how many times he had to interact with regular people. The knowledge gathered from these people was often shaky at best and should definitely be taken with a grain of salt. However, this information often helped him form some semblance of an idea. In his experience Seth had learned that regular people noticed a lot more than even they realize. In addition most people never pass up a chance for a good gossip. And since they didn't know how valuable their information was, they were a lot less stingy with it. The only problem you run into is when they begin to ask questions and wonder why you're asking and who you are. When that happens you become the subject of gossip and word will eventually get back to you enemy. That's why Seth hated small towns. The information might be easier to come by, but it was also easier to get caught. And getting caught meant revealing your mission too soon.

In his line of work , timing was everything. Move in too soon and you risk blowing you cover as well as the entire mission. However, if you don't move in quick enough you'll miss your chance to get your guy. That perfect timing came only when you knew you enemy better than they knew themselves. It came from careful observation and lots of Intel.

Gathering Intel was arguably one of the most boring and tedious parts of Seth's job. It involved a lot of waiting, listening, learning, more waiting, and every once and awhile, a well calculated risk. Luckily, for Seth, his shade walking gave him an edge in this particular area. The ability allowed him to get closer to his enemies so he could overhear plans and put together one of his own. However no ability came without its share of risks. He had gotten a lot better at learning to shroud himself in the shadow to help cover his movements when shade walking but it wasn't an exact science. Not adding enough shadow would reveal his position should he happen to move too quickly however, adding too much shadow could be just as revealing.

Seth's favorite way of gathering Intel was doing exactly what he was doing now. Finding a place to eat while he sat back and listened. Small places like the diner he had just entered were prime spots for gossip. Additionally, they gave him an opening to talk with the locals in a relatively unsuspicious way. People tended to loosen up and talk more freely when both parties were eating. Plus it gave Seth a reason to try all the local dishes. Most of which were pretty good. The smell of home cooked food hit his nose the minute he walked through the door making his mouth water so much it was a wonder he didn't start drooling. He was met at the entrance by a plump, kind looking lady, who appeared to be somewhere in her mid fifties judging by the gray streaking through her black hair. The hair was pulled tightly into a bun at the back of her head, accentuating her full rosy cheeks. He apron stated that he name was Rosa which somehow seemed to fit her perfectly, even thought Seth didn't know her. She gave off a very motherly vibe that instantly made Seth feel at home. With a smile she led Seth to a table and asked him for his drink order. To which he replied with a simple black coffee. Coffee was something Seth had quickly become addicted when he became a Knight. It often helped him through the multiple all nighters he pulled while on a mission. Some minutes later she returned with his coffee, this time ready for his order of food.

" What would you recommend. I'm from out of town so I'm counting on you to hook me up with the good stuff," He said with a wink. Rosa laughed heartily and replied with a thick accent,

" Well only for you I will tell you my personal favorite," She rattled off the name of a dish which sounded completely foreign to Seth but he wasn't going to admit that.

" Ok then, you've talked me into it,.I'll get that," He replied and as Rosa turned to leave he continued, " And could you do me a favor and just wave your little magic wand and take all the fat and calories out for me," Once again Rosa replied with a full bellied laugh.

"You are a funny man. But for you I will have to add extra. Maybe then some of it will stick. You look like you need it," She teased in return before turning a leaving Seth alone once more. He leaned back in his chair, and pulled out his phone. Absent mindedly scrolling through something or another and trying to hide the fact that he was listening to the conversations around him. The diner was loud, making it difficult to discern the voice of only one person. Seth was tempted to use the potion he had that would hone his eyesight and hearing but didn't want to waste it seeing as he only had one. It would be unfortunate to use all of it now at the beginning of the mission when he could need it more later on.

His thoughts were interrupted by Rose who had come with his food. Seth was shocked at how quick the service was seeing as it was rush hour and the small diner was packed to the gills. With the meal she also brought his check. Seth glanced at the check, surprised at the low prices considering the quality of the food.

" Well would you look at that! you must have given me the senior citizen discount!" He paused for the laugh that he had come to expect and then followed up with, "So what are some cool things to do and see while I'm here, anything particularly interesting?"

" Oh well the Cerror Ruins are always a prime spot for tourism but you must be careful to stay on the trails. Too many people wander off and go missing. One of my favorite things is to see the sights at night. The water takes on this stunning color and you can see the star as clear as day. But if you choose that route you best stay away from Devils Tavern. Its on the North end of Corazol, close to the beaches. That place is nothing but trouble, and full of shady characters, especially recently," Rosa said. Rosa was obviously the type of person who talked openly once you got them going. The last part of her sentence caught Seth's attention.

" Really, shady people in this town? Surely not everyone seems so nice,"

" You are young. You haven't seen the darkness of man. People are not always as they seem child," She replied with a sad smile. Seth internally rolled his eyes. If only she knew. " But yes, a week or so ago , this man arrived and came into the diner to eat. He seemed normal enough even if he was a bit rude. However, later that night I saw him outside the Devils Tavern, its on my route home you see, and he was talking in hushed tones with another man. They were standing in the shadows real creepy like. I wasn't really able to hear what they were saying but they didn't sound to happy and they looked like they were planning something, " Rosa finished with a grim look on her face. A look that didn't last long as it was replaced with her usual bright smile.

Seth stored the information away for later, and smiled brightly in return. Acting as if the information had no effect on him at all. Something that had always made Seth a good agent was his poker face. He had a good control over which emotions showed on his face. This was a vast contrast to Kendra who tended to be easily read, like an open book. One with pictures and big letters. A fact that Seth ,and surprisingly Bracken, had teased her relentlessly for.

" Well I won't keep you, thanks for chatting with me . And I will be sure to check out those suggestions," He said, putting an end to the conversation. Seth then dug into his food, nearly moaning at the taste. It was incredibly good. Probably one of the best meals he's had while on a mission. While he ate, he began to sift through the information that he had been given. As always he had to wonder how much of it was true, seeing as people had a tendency to exaggerate. He also couldn't bring himself to believe that Rosa stumbled upon the Devil's Tavern, a place she claimed to despise, on her way home. From what he had seen of Corazol most of the housing was away from that part of the beaches. He wasn't going to completely discredit it but as Rosa had said, people aren't always who they seemed. However, no how much truth there was in the statement, one thing remained true. Tonight he was heading to the Devil's Tavern.

†††††

May 22

Corazol, Belize

10:00pm

Seth walked through the darkened streets. Careful to remain close enough to the street lights so as not to unintentionally shade walk. He had gotten a lot better at controlling it but it still happened from time to time. And he couldn't afford giving himself away like that. Just in case there were eyes watching him that he could not see. He had done a pretty good job of keeping on the down low. After lunch he had wandered around the streets a bit more and then headed to the beaches. Particularly the part of the beach close to the Devil's Tavern. The Devil's Tavern had been relatively quiet during the day. The sign had stated that they were opened but it had seemed oddly empty. That was a stark contrast to what he was seeing now.

The tavern now seemed to be packed to the gills with people. And even more of them were standing outside. Even from where he was standing a few feet away he could hear the loud music that played he could see the bright, colorful lights shiny through the windows. As Seth drew closer he saw a problem. Standing at the door was a big burly man wearing dark sunglasses and a tight short sleeved T-shirt that accented his bulging muscles. He was shorter than Seth, most people were, but he made up for it in width. Seth was considered to have pretty wide shoulders and his years of training had hardened his muscles into steel cords. However, none of this reassured him as he stared at a man that looked like he could snap him in half like a twig. He wasn't scared of the man per say. But, he was definitely cautious.

As Seth approached the man he seemed to be doing his own analysis and his stance showed that he didn't feel even the slightest bit intimidated. Which was fair and actually worked to Seth's advantage He had done his best to tone down the darkness of his aura that seemed to put people on edge. Plus the leather jacket he had opted to wear hit the bulk of his muscles, which weren't overly pronounced to begin with, as well as a few... other tools. Aside from the daggers strapped to his legs and the makeshift weapon around his neck, he had three throwing knives cleverly hidden in the folds of his jacket. Unfortunately, much to Seth's displeasure, he had once again leave his sword behind. As weird as it may sound he felt like the sword gave him a better sense of security than the multiple knives strapped to his body. He was dangerous with both weapons and that was disregarding the fact that he was a shadow charmer. So even without the sword, he was hardly helpless. Still, he always felt oddly bare without it. A look settled on the bouncers face. A look that Seth had often seen on bullies when he was a kid. In the end that was all this guy was. A bully. And obviously he saw Seth as his next victim. However, despite all the scenarios Seth was mentally planning for, all the man did was sneer. Seth did his best to pretend he was scared as he entered the building

The air smelled heavily of alcohol and the music, which had been loud before, now seemed to shake the floor. He immediately began to weave his way through the sweaty bodies packing the room searching for signs of anything that was amiss. You would think that a place with this much chaos would make it harder to find anything let alone one person but for Seth it made it easier. If there was one thing that the file full of its limited information had taught Seth was that this guy was far from careless. He wouldn't risk anything that might loosen his tongue. The rest of the people in this place shared no such caution. So find the guy who can walk a straight line and that was probably who Seth was looking for.

He hadn't been searching for more than five minutes when something caught his eyes. His eyes darted to what had caught his attention and and, confirming his previous suspicions to be true, he found Rosa.

†††††

So there is part one!!!! Most of this collection will be one shots but seeing as this z alone is over seven thousand words I figured I needed to split them up. I will hopefully be able to post the next part very soon. It needs a few touch ups and changes but.other than that its.practically done. This took SOOO much research its not even funny. I'm pretty sure trip advisor things I'm moving to Belize. Anyway I really hope you all like it, it is probably one of my favorite fics to date so let me know what you think. I apologize for any mistakes you may find. Let me know what adventures you want Seth to have in this book or any other requests you have!!!!!

[milkybunbuns]

↳ in which a strange girl orders her food delivered from onigiri miya just moments before closing time

w/c: 875

warnings: haikyuu time skip!

a/n: okay okay forgive me, this isn’t a complete fic, its just I’m on hiatus and I’ve had this in my drafts for so long but I can’t be bothered to finish it lol! so for your enjoyment, here’s what i have written

Miya Osamu was a hard working man and watched as the last customer left his shop. He prepared to clean up, grabbing a wet cloth and wiping each and every table down which sometimes had left over crumbs on it. A ring from the work phone on the counter surprised him. There was still a minute left before closing hours, who could be calling him? Sighing, he picked up the phone.

“Hello? Onigiri Miya, how can I help you?”

A hushed voice responded, “Yes, I’d like your daily special and green tea delivered to Acorn Potato Oof Park, by the blue bench please,” the woman’s voice had set alarm bells ringing in his head, not only that, who in the right mind would order to a park. Yet, who was he to judge, after seeing just what his brother could do.

“Right, your food will be delivered there shortly. Thank you,” before whoever was on the other side, he hung up, opening his mouth to call for Armin, who delivered food around, only to realise that he had already sent all the workers home. It looked like he’d have to the delivery himself. Checking the time, he realised that he didn’t have time to make a fresh onigiri, opting to just get a pre-made one instead. He had made a few of the daily specials to be served, yet not all of them were sold. The green tea was quickly made, then everything dumped into a small take away container and a cup.

Upon arrival at the park, Miya Osamu couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong. The park was strangely empty and also dark. There was only one place lit up, the lamp post above the blue bench. A quick scan showed that the customer was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps this was just a trick, it was already suspicious enough that they had called just before closing hours. He put his guard up at the mere sound of a rustle, ready to attack, except a cat came out. Maybe he was being a bit paranoid, the voice sounded like it belonged to some old creep. Yet, he was sure he could defend himself, years of volleyball practice couldn’t go to waste obviously.

Just then, he noticed a girl, jogging down the footpath, clad in a thick long jacket with fur at the top, cheeks a slight rosy red and puffing out smoke. She also wore a red plaid scarf, jeans/pants and some sneakers, holding onto her phone tightly so as to not drop it. Could that be the one who ordered? There was no way, he was sure her voice couldn’t sound like that.

“Thank you for the food also I’m sorry for the really late order, it’s just-”

She was abruptly cut off, “It’s fine. Enjoy your food,” he handed her the bag of food, in exchange for the various noted and coins the girl held in her hands.

“Okay, then enjoy your night sir!”

“You too.”

On his way back to his car, he counted the money closely. There sure was enough, even a tip of $20 and a sheet of folded paper. On the small slightly crumbled paper it read, ‘Hi Mr Delivery Man! Your food is absolutely delicious and I am so in love with it! I was wondering if you’d like to be friends, I mean, sure you obviously don’t want to befriend some random you’ve never met before, but if you’re interested, here’s my number! #### ### ### I promise you’ll be seeing me a lot more, so don’t worry.’

Quite frankly, Osamu was quite concerned with the last line. What on Earth did she mean by he would see her a lot more. After a bit of thinking, he had only concluded that she would be trying to become a worker at Onigiri Miya. Probably just a heads up.

He was clearly wrong, when the orders from the same girl, who he had come to learn as L/n Y/n kept coming in, same time, same order every single day. Over the short interactions they would have at the same blue bench, they had learnt to know each other quite well. So that’s when Osamu grew the courage to text her. Grabbing the sheet of very crumbled paper now, from his pockets, he typed the number into his phone.

‘Hello, is this L/n?”

Almost immediately, he was met with a response, featuring a wide variety of emojis, ‘Hi! I’m guessing you’re Mr Delivery Man! ☺💕💖’

‘I told you not to call me that. Just Osamu would be fine. Anyways, would you like to meet up at Woodland Carrot Amazing Park, tomorrow at 3? It’s a public holiday.’

‘Oh yeah, of course I’d like to meet up :) I heard from Atsumu that’s where you used to spend a lot of your time’

‘You know that piece of trash?’

‘Yeah, I heard about him through Kita. Actually, that’s how I heard about you too!!’

‘Right, that makes sense.’

‘So, I guess I’ll be seeing you at 3 am tomorrow. Good night!! 😊💕💗🥺🥺

‘I meant 3 pm you know.’

‘Of course I do! Who do you take me for, a fool?’

‘No. Okay then, goodnight to you too.’

[eggytranslations]

Volume 1, Chapter 1-Ambush

Content warnings: death, ableism, suicidal thoughts, mention of racism?

The whole thing happened so suddenly.

“Thump—”,  a small blue and white porcelain bowl fell to the ground, rolled twice, and fractured into several small pieces. At the same time, the shiny brass bell that had been polished by time also fell from a great height, jingling twice with an especially alarming panic, and then slumped over beside the fragments.

“Shaoye…shaoye, shaoye...somebody help! Shaoye has been bitten by a snake!...”

The shrill voice cut through this early spring afternoon, a rare bright and sunny day. Very quickly, endless bustling footsteps came from the originally tranquil mountain courtyard—kick and clatter—you could even hear the sounds of these panicked footsteps knocking over things. 

Shen Qingxuan widened his eyes to stare ahead, working hard, trying to get a glimpse of the beast that had bit him, but his eyes were blurred, as if they were covered by a layer of thin white gauze, so no matter how hard he tried he could not see clearly. Internally, he could not help but be stunned by the snake’s powerful venom, but also secretly think, man proposes but God disposes. He had thought of countless ways of dying, yet how could he have foreseen that he would ultimately end by a snake’s venomous fangs?

Thinking up to now, in his heart of hearts, he was not shocked, and just closed his eyes. He was vaguely aware that the servants who rushed over had moved him from the chair, and were frantically calling for the physician while yelling for someone to fetch the antidote pills.

And anything after that, he did not know at all.

The eldest young master of the Shen family was bit by a snake in his mountain villa.

This news travelled like the birds in the mountain forest had flapped their wings and carried it out themselves, taking only a cup of tea’s time before sounds of horse feet came from the originally tranquil mountain path. One after another, the horse carriage and silk sedan chair

finally arrived outside the doors of the mountain villa in a rush. 

The rider on the horse and the noble in the sedan hurriedly disembarked, entered through the doors, and without anyone greeting them, burst into Shen Qingxuan’s room. 

The man lay behind green gauze curtains with both eyes shut tight. His forehead was overtaken by an unclear black-purple color, that dense color was even gradually spreading throughout his whole face. His originally light colored lips became strangely flushed red from the contrast of his black-purple face. His refreshing outer appearance was completely gone. At a glance, he actually looked like three parts human and seven parts ghost already.

“Xiao Xuan!” An elder with lightly frosted temples saw Shen Qingxuan’s state and let out a low cry that was sorrowful and grieved to the utmost point. “My son!” He cried, as if he still had words to say, but could only choke.

“Laoye.” The uninvolved steward who stood to the side quickly interrupted his master’s grief, and reminded him, “Laoye should not be grieving now, the proper thing to do is to think of an idea to save shaoye’s life first.”

“Yes, yes.” Under the rush of grief for his son, Master Shen only woke up to his error through that warning, and he quickly got up with a hand over his eyes. Still choking with sobs, he asked the servant beside him: “Did you all remove the toxin yet?”

“There are always snakes, insects, rats, and ants on the mountain, therefore all the regular medicines are supplied. The antidote pills for snake venom have just been given to shaoye, but...the effects are not clear.”

“What kind of snake was it, could you see clearly?” the steward hurriedly asked.

“It was too chaotic then, this lowly servant could not see clearly. It was coiled on the pergola

in the yard, but it was also blocked by the branches. In my quick glance, I only saw a section that was as big as the mouth of a bowl…” the servant spoke and gestured, but once he finished speaking, his forehead was firmly slapped. The steward angrily said, “Glib-tongued servant, you are full of nonsense!” Ignoring the servant’s tearful complaints, the steward simply explained to Master Shen, “Laoye, Lu-mou also lived in the mountain forests as a child, but I have never heard of a snake that could grow that thick and big. Unless it is a python, but big as pythons are, they do not easily bite people, and their toxicity is even less likely to be this fierce. This servant must be speaking rubbish, he is only describing it so dreadfully so that he can be punished less.”

Master Shen was terribly upset, and could not handle this presently. He just angrily told the retainer to scram.

“Where is the bite?” The steward asked again of the servant girl who was shaking by the doorpost. She was Shen Qingxuan’s personal handmaid.

“On the wrist.” The maidservand’s face was pallid, and she anxiously added, “Since the sunshine was good today, shaoye wanted to sunbathe, so I wheeled him into the yard. As usual, shaoye wanted to drink a pot of floral tea at that moment. After making the tea for shaoye, I was going to bring some tea cakes, but just as I turned around and walked a couple steps, I heard the tea cup fall to the ground. When I turned back around, shaoye had already been bitten by the snake...” At this point, the maidservant already had tears in her eyes, and was sobbing.

“You saw that snake?”

“I saw it. That person was not lying. That snake really was as thick as the mouth of a bowl, and perched on the railing. When I saw it, it had just drawn back. I saw it was pitch-black, only its abdomen had a bit of gold. I have been on this mountain serving shaoye all these years, and saw some snakes that were beaten dead, but I have never seen such a large snake...”

“It was really that big?” The steward was still uncertain.

Her knees went soft, the girl kneeled on the ground, crying while vowing: “How would this maidservant lie about such an important matter? If there is a trace of a lie, then this maidservant shall die miserably!”

On this side of the room, the steward checked the testimony. On the other side, Master Shen suppressed his sadness to observe his son’s injuries. When he pulled out his eldest son’s wrist, he saw that the injury bitten by the snake’s fangs had already been crossed through with a knife. This helped him relax a bit, knowing a servant was quick-witted enough to promptly slit an opening and suck out the poisonous blood. But this snake venom is too aggressive; in just a short period, it caused a grown man to lose all his senses. Unfortunately, this toxin may have already entered the bloodstream, and would be difficult to clear!

Master Shen grasped that thin and pale wrist, his heart filling with sorrow. It is said that the eldest son is the pillar of his family. He did not have a son until he was 30, yet he let Shen Qingxuan fall into an ice cave at the age of eight. After the rescue and a high fever, not only did his son become mute, but his lower limbs were also damaged by the frostbite, and could only ever be paralyzed on the daybed. Master Shen originally thought it would be easy to raise and support him. There was no need for him to obtain fame and fortune; with the Shen family fortunes, there was no issue supporting the eldest son for his whole, peaceful life. However, who would have thought that at age 27, he would be bitten by a snake.

“That ruinous beast!” With a low shout, Master Shen even had thoughts to catch that snake and eat its meat raw.

“Laoye, do not worry.” The old steward, who has looked after the Shen family his whole life, yet again consoled. “Shaoye’s health has always been weak. Year in and year out, he has been rehabilitating in the mountain villa, therefore all kinds of precious medicines are more or less prepared. Maybe there is still a means.”

“What kind of means?”

“Does laoye still remember what happened during last year’s Mid-Autumn? Someone from Nanman, who had dealt business with the Shen family, gave a tribute of two pills that were said to be capable of relieving all the world’s strangest poisons?”

“I remember, I remember. I saved that medicine. ...Does it really work?”

“Laoshen does not know either, I am just told that the Nanman wetlands contain poisonous insects and wild beasts in numbers. This pill might really have miraculous effects, perhaps?”

“Then why have you not fetched it?” Master Shen stood up in a hurry.

“Aye.”

The medication was quickly retrieved, dissolved in warm water, and administered. As he was fed the medicine, Shen Qingxuan’s jaw was clenched tight, his facial muscles rigid, seemingly a hair’s breadth away from death.

The whole room was engulfed in a state of panic, and the air felt heavy.

Night fell, and the servants lit the oil lamps. Light and shadow quivered.

Shen Qingxuan’s bedroom door opened sometimes and closed sometimes, people shuffling out and in.

Yet not one person noticed, in the swaying shadow of the oil lamp, there quietly stood a man.

Black hair flowed loosely down to his waist. He was also dressed in a black robe, standing with both hands behind his back. The lapels of his robe were embroidered with gold thread into simple decorative patterns. Expression ice cold and lips pursed, he was standing there for who knows how long.

Not one person noticed, and even the people who brushed past him did not cast a glance at him. If anyone had seen him, they surely would not turn a blind eye to this man that looked like a demon on earth.

But indeed, not a single person knew his presence.

The night grew late, Master Shen was tired in both body and heart. He wanted to keep vigil by his son’s bedside, but old age ruthlessly shackled his parental affections. It was the end of February, and although spring had begun, the nights were still cold. After a few soft coughs, Master Shen faintly felt his head start to hurt. Under the steward’s encouragement, although he was loath to leave, he still went to a room warmed by charcoal fire and lay down on the bed.

In the bedroom, there were only the steward and three servants left still looking after Shen Qingxuan.

After another two double-hours passed, Shen Qingxuan, whose breathing had been shallow, gradually gained a steadier and stronger breathing sound. In the shadows, the unmoved, standing man slightly raised his eyes. His eyes showed a spark of surprise; he did not believe this world had an antidote that could actually detoxify his venom.

As expected, when he concentrated a bit to take a closer look at the gaunt and frail man lying on the bed, it dawned on him: this is the so-called rally before death.

Those antidote drugs, at most, only delayed a few threads of time. Antidote? Pure delusion.

Shen Qingxuan struggled to open his eyes. His heavy eyelids felt like they weighed a ton, no matter how he tried, he could not open them.

However, the servant girl waiting by him saw his movements, and joyfully shouted: “Shaoye, shaoye!"

Her noise had a rash joy, and woke up the small courtyard and mountain forest that just fell asleep.

Very quickly, Master Shen came over dressed in a cloak

and did not even stop to put on his socks and shoes. He frantically ran, and yelled: “Xuan’er, Xuan’er...Have you awakened, Xuan’er? Dad is worried sick...” 

Perhaps the calls of his family gave Shen Qingxuan strength, his quivering eyelids worked to open, and finally they budged. His eyes were slack, taking a moment to focus until the depths of his eyes had some liveliness. 

Shen Qingxuan slightly opened his mouth to speak, yet could not make a sound.

But everyone knew he said, “Dad.”

“Ah, dad is here...” the old man immediately burst into tears. Master Shen did not even care to consider how many years he spent with the stance of an elder, he shakingly grabbed his son’s hand, murmuring, “Qingxuan ah, do you feel better? If you are better, then Dad will be so relieved…”

Shen Qingxuan used all his strength, just to barely pull his rigid face into a small smile. Internally, however, he somehow knew he could not escape death this time. His whole body was entrapped in a sense of paralysis with no ability to move. Whenever he breathed, his nostrils filled with a fishy sweet scent; what’s more, in front of his eyes were bursts of pitch-black with intervals of clarity.

The sensations when one is on the brink of death are probably like this.

Actually, there was nothing to dread. For disabled people like him, death was really not as dreadful as living.

Only, he could not bear to leave his parents and younger brother.

These years, his family was the only pillar he had to support him in continuing to seek happiness in life. Everytime he thought about his parent’s pitiful grief after his passing from this world, he could not bear it in his heart.

He thought about his own death, not because he was abandoning and resigning himself to despair. These years in the wheelchair, he actually grew accustomed to this existence of not being able to take care of himself. Burying his childhood dreams of flourishing a whip and riding a horse was not a very challenging task at all.

He thought about his own death because his health was deteriorating year after year.

Before, he could occasionally bask in the sun, call someone to push him, and go for a stroll in the wooded forest.

But in the last two years, he was getting worse. Catch a little draft, and he would be ill for a period, each time more serious than the last. Eventually, it became so bad he could not get out of bed for a month or two.

This winter, he did not go outside. He barely even opened the windows.

He finally recovered, and wanted to bask a bit in the sun, yet he startled a snake that had just ended its winter hibernation and was out to bask in the sun as well.

Thinking of this, Shen Qingxuan could not help but smile, and think to himself that this sunbathing, it seems, whether for himself or the snake, was not comfortable.

He knew in his heart that the snake was just sunning itself on the railing at first, and he was sitting in his chair—man and snake minding their own business. 

They could have lived harmoniously in peace and returned to their respectives homes after sunbathing.

But somehow a soiled piece of leaf just had to fall into the clear tea water. His natural disposition preferred cleanliness, so he, immediately and without another thought, threw out the bowl of hot tea.

At the time, he did not see that snake. Once he realized it was improper, the tea had already been thrown out, and had drenched those shiny black scales with steaming hot water.

The startled snake turned its head around and took a bite out of the hand he did not retract in time.

In truth though, it was more of his own fault. Such hot water, nevermind a snake, even a mere rabbit would be startled enough to retaliate.

It was a very mighty snake. He only caught one glimpse of it, then got distracted by the pain and had to look away. But Shen Qingxuan still remembered that the snake was gleaming black all over; when crouched with its head erect, its neck and abdomen gleamed golden yellow, which was particularly dazzling in the light of the afternoon sun. Later, he wanted to take a closer look, but could not see clearly anymore. He also was not sure if that snake was scalded or not.

It is said these kinds of apodal animals are completely covered with small scales, and probably are not really easily harmed by a cup of hot tea.

In front of his eyes was another moment of extremely dizzying blackness, to the point that even the sound of his father’s voice by his ear was also drifting away. Shen Qingxuan still wanted to listen hard to what his father was saying, but could only hear the beating thunder in his ears. All the disorderly fragmented sentences came through the thundering, yet were still unable to reach his mind. Shen Qingxuan only knew that his father was speaking, but no matter how hard he exerted himself, he could not hear clearly what exactly his father was saying.

Shen Qingxuan knew well enough that his life was at its limit, internally, he was not sure if he was more melancholic or more relieved. He always knew he was a person not long for this world, but the arrival of this scene still caught him off guard.

The concern in his heart made him want to have one last look at this world that had accompanied him for 20 some years. Even if he barely had the strength to breathe, Shen Qingxuan still worked hard to open his eyes wide—the scattered expression within his eyes was also stubbornly gathered back—to gaze at his family. Focusing for a protracted moment.

His father who was normally healthy and well maintained, appeared old and ragged at this moment. The old steward who had rushed about and busied himself for the Shen family his whole life, the maidservant who had already cried into a mess, all of the familiar people who had been doing their best to take care of him all of these years...his eyes slowly, almost rigidly, moved over everyone’s face, Shen Qingxuan haltingly lifted the corners of his mouth, and showed a shallow smile. As if saying goodbye.

His smile was quite faint, appearing ferocious and crude on his currently three-parts-human-seven-parts-ghost-like face.

Yet, it displayed a profound fondness for and reluctance to let go of living.

Such a despairing fondness, yet it also carried a relief towards death.

Perhaps this smile was too striking for the eyes and too startling for the heart. The cold and still man in the shadows, who had watched this entire scene from beginning to end, raised his eyelids. His pupils, which were as dark as the waters of the deep abyss, rippled from a sudden splash.

[lygerastia]

3. Making History - Ezio Auditore

It's time for you to join the Brotherhood with your first kill, hoping to impress your master, Ezio Auditore.

Warnings: slight!violence; rape attempt. 

Chapters: 1 [complete]

Words: 5,799

READ IT ON AO3.

***

She lands without a sound, perfectly. A wave of pride engulfs her, but she knows she shouldn’t dwell on that. Days and weeks and months of arduous training—all culminated at this moment. 

The time has come for her to prove her worth; and take her place in the Brotherhood. Prowling the rooftops, blending with the shadows, she approaches her target: a middle-aged wine trader that used his money to take advantage of young women. He was the lowest kind of filth, a degenerate that needed to be eliminated off the Earth. It was hard to witness his atrocities, but the Master said she had to watch, to remember later why she was doing this. To leave regrets behind as she took his life—was she even capable of murder? 

Today, she’ll find out. 

Even if she excels at combat, stalking, and all it means to be an assassin, she won’t ever be accepted if she doesn’t wet her blade. The initiation was cruel, but she was ready for this. One could say she was born for it, but she might say they’re wrong. The frail girl from before that watched Templars trample her family in cold blood—merely a pawn in their path to greatness—died on that night. Like a phoenix, she was reborn into a merciless and cold-blooded creature, with only a shred of kindness reserved for those who mattered. 

On that night, she lost everything. If it weren’t for the Master stopping them on time, she would’ve joined her family and never know life’s pleasures. Her only regret is not getting to her little sister in time—he deserved more. He deserved better.

So she promised herself that she’s going to do better. Save others selflessly; vengeance meant nothing to her. No one needed to share her fate. Yet none were as lucky as her.

No more unnecessary killings, no more tears.  Only hers. 

She takes a deep breath, all of these thoughts swirling in her head to encourage herself. Master told her it would be hard the first time, but it will get easier the more she does it. It was a sad thought, that this has to be a constant. But her fate has been sealed the moment she stepped into the chamber and swore fealty to the cause.

We work in the dark to serve the light…

The young woman was only prolonging the inevitable. The target was getting closer to her hiding spot, in the dark shadows of an abandoned alley. After days of studying, of following, of pretending she was something she wasn’t, she learned this man’s schedule. She knew his habits by heart, knew what kind of girls she liked, how he tortured them, how much of a filth he can be. The man was a big fan of girls like her, dreamers. It wasn’t hard to get him drunk and spill out his secrets—the groping was the hardest part to bear with. Back then, she felt no remorse when imagining the blade at his throat, cutting it from ear to ear. But she stayed her hand—it will only endanger the Brotherhood to act recklessly. 

So she sated her thirst by waiting. 

“You’re a very nice signorina, aren’t you?” the man pinches the flesh of the girl he charmed tonight. It made the assassin’s stomach turn. The girl giggles, a bit unsure. The assassin knew she was only doing this for money; there was no love between the two. She pitied her, but she was used to this cruel and unfair reality, where the rich thrive and the poor die. “Why don’t we…?” The man’s smile vanishes, throwing a commanding look at his three bodyguards. Business as usual, it meant. The assassin knew the men would turn around and pretend not to hear the poor girl’s scream as the man did as he pleased. Not this time. 

The wine vendor guides the girl in the assassin’s alley, as predicted. It was a favorite spot of his, close to the bar he frequented: a bar he owned. What will happen to it after his death? She knew he had a family and a boy that would inherit riches. Afterward, she’ll keep an eye on him; there’s no need for another leech. Her actions, she knew well, will only inspire hate, but such is life if you want freedom and justice.

She can bear that cross.

The target is getting closer, hands all over the girl’s body. At first, she’s playing along—but the vendor is not playing nicely. He takes what he wants by force and, soon enough, her clothes are torn off her. The girl screams and tries to run away, but he grabs her wrists, and violently slaps her face. The girl’s knees crumble underneath her and she’s falling, blood dripping from split lips. 

The man only laughs at this, eyes gleaming greedily as he stares at her helpless form. 

“You’re mine now.” 

He licks his lips and undoes his belt, dropping his pants. The girl groans on the ground, dazed. But when she sees the shriveled member dangling in her face, ready to pounce, she screams and tries to crawl away. She forgets he has an iron grip on her wrist and it hurts her.

“Yes, yes! Struggle more!” 

The guards don’t flinch and deter all curious gazes. At this moment, the assassin had enough. She had her doubts, staying there in the shadows and watching: was she capable of this? Did this man deserve to die and leave a young boy without a father? 

However, she could also see that there was no redemption in this man. He will never change; he’ll continue to profit off of young women, no matter what. His time has come and, silent as a cat, she stands up and steps towards the two struggling figures. The vendor was now getting annoyed with the girl’s refusal, spittle falling out of his mouth as he told her to stop. The assassin had to admit she was putting on quite a fight; but she stopped as she spotted the assassin behind the man’s back. Her eyes widened in surprise—then taken over with a new kind of fear. 

How must the assassin look to her? 

Her face was half-hidden by the white cowl, but she could still see the coldness in her eyes—the dangerous gleam that attracted her Master’s attention. With a flick of the wrist, she activates the blade and, before the woman could scream once again, she plunges it deep into the man’s neck. 

Blood started spurting from the wound, landing on the girl’s face. The vendor’s hand lets her go and she scrambles away, backing up a wall, shivering. Staring at what was happening in front of her, as the assassin gently lays the man down—no matter how much he didn’t deserve it. The man struggles to form words as he chokes on his own blood, looking up at his killer. She holds his gaze, a silent angel of death, unrelenting. With this killing, something in her truly broke and she couldn’t wait to tell her Master that she was ready for whatever came next. Her heart was with the Brotherhood, now until her demise. These monsters didn’t deserve to live—and she was the reaper that will cull them. 

Carefully, still holding the gaze, watching the man’s life seep out of him, too slowly, she brings out the feather. A ridiculous thing, in her opinion, but sacred to the rest. She won’t question the creed now. Like a lover’s caress, she dips the feather in his blood—it quickly stains as the man’s eyes glazed over, close to death’s door.

“We—We only…” he breathes out, struggling. He’s watching something else now, far above her reach. She listens to his last plea. “...want...order.” 

With that, his hand that was about to grip the assassin’s collar falls to the ground. Mission complete: the target has been eliminated. A cruel smile adorns her lips, basking in the glory her fist death brought—a mistake, as the girl, forgotten, starts screaming.

“Murderer!!” 

A hint of annoyance graces the assassin’s features as she stands up, glaring at the girl. Where was her 'thank you' for saving her? Things would’ve ended much worse for her if it weren’t for the assassin; but Master warned her not to seek approval. Sometimes, she won’t get any gratification for her deeds. As an assassin, she must live away from all this. She must be above it. So, instead of shushing her up, the assassin smiles like a mother scolding her child. 

Of course, the guards hear and turn around, arms ready, shouting. Their master was dead at the feet of a figure clad in white, identity shielded. They could only see two eyes glinting dangerously and a cruel grin, whispering: 

“Requiescat in pace.” 

**

Only five of the eight assassins that set out this night came back: and she was one of them. 

Getting out of that predicament wasn’t hard; she was a natural at climbing buildings and vanishing out of sight. It wasn’t long before she left the alarms behind her, enjoying the crisp air of the night. Only when she stopped she realized her heart was beating fast—with adrenaline or fear, she didn’t know. But the deed was done and she felt nothing. Staring at the dried blood on her fingers, she remembered the feeling of the act, as the pulse weakened. 

Somehow, it made her sad. Shaking her head, she made sure no one was following her before arriving at the Brotherhood headquarters, where her teachers were anxiously (and solemnly) waiting for her. She didn’t expect to be met with applause from her fellow assassins, but she enjoyed their happiness. She lived another day—and there’s one less stain in the world. As she received pats on the back, she also received the bad news: three new novices didn’t make it and got caught. They won’t be seen again. Her heart ached at that, but she couldn’t help but feel glad that she made it. She was initiated now. 

And she didn’t plan on leaving.

After the tumult died down, she finally gets a respite as the others prepare for the celebration party. She wasn’t sure she was in the mood for such an occasion, but her nerves were still alert and she needed to relax. As the crowd dispersed, moving onto another novice like her, she finally caught the eye of her beloved Master: 

Ezio Auditore da Firenze. 

She dislikes the way her heart seizes at his sight, her admiration turned into something more over the course of her training. She didn’t plan on it, but he was young and handsome, and she still believed in love. It was wrong of her, she knew it very well. He was her teacher, a few years older than her, and her savior. At the same time, he was her captor, stealing her heart with a flirtatious grin and a cheesy pick-up line. The assassin heard his story from the other novices, about how his family was hung, down to his little brother. They shared a similar path that only brought them closer until it was too late to turn back. He chose vengeance—and she mercy. 

If only they weren’t in this deadly situation…

There was no time for romance in the Brotherhood; his actions told as much. Or was she misinterpreting? She wanted to believe there was more to it than the innocent remarks, the gentle touches, the sultry whispers. 

“Ezio? He’s a damn womanizer,” Claudia, his sister, confessed to you one day. “Don’t fall for his honeyed words.” 

It only sowed doubt in her heart. She was nothing special. Other beautiful donnas could attract his attention.

Yet, for now, she delighted in his warm gaze, pride in that cocky smile of his. Her body was enveloped in a hotness that crossed from head to toe. Ezio had that kind of effect on her, as if he could undress her with just one look—probably without him even wanting to. The brown-haired man exuded potency and it only made her desire him more. 

She tore her gaze from him, cheeks flushed and embarrassed. This was not the time for these thoughts—and it was only souring her mood. She should be happy she could finally fight by his side, as equals. Hopefully, he’d want her to join him on important life or death missions where she’ll prove herself worthy of his attention, if she hadn’t until now. Straightening her back, the young assassin joined the others in the revelry, knowing she couldn’t approach him right now. Maybe later he’ll come to congratulate her. 

She hoped for it. 

** 

It was good to loosen up and discard her assassin robes; at least, for now. With warm mead in her cup, held between her cold hands, she sat at a table with a few of her peers, discussing their kills. It was getting rather tiresome by now and hearing the gruesome details wasn’t her cup of tea. She tried to lighten the mood with a bit of goofiness, but it didn’t stick. The smell of bloodshed was intoxicating everyone—aside from the alcohol in the room, of course. A ballad was sung in the background and she swayed to it, staring at her cup. 

Ezio didn’t come once by her table. She figured it was just because he couldn’t show any signs he preferred her over the others. It was only fair—but it still hurt. All she could do was drown her sorrows with cup after cup, until she could see double. Almost, anyway; the world was a blur. It didn’t help that alcohol made her slightly aroused, so looking at Ezio was getting harder by the minute. 

“Cazo,” she breathes under her breath, knowing she needs air or she will lose it. “I’ll be right back,” she says to no one in particular, but one of the novices nods before resuming the conversation. With wobbly steps, she found the stairs that went up and up, winding and winding. It was all confusing but, somehow, she ended up on the roof: the place for the leap of faith. The young girl didn’t get to do it yet and now, inebriated, had half in mind to jump. Test her might against the odds and prove—prove what? She didn’t know, her mind was blurry. At least the morning air, still not dawn yet, but close, sobered her up a bit. She took a deep inhale, closing her eyes—up above felt good. 

Then a crazy thought popped into her head: wasn’t she ready for the big leap? She didn't need someone to hold her hand while she was doing this. At least, not after the first time. Opening her eyes, she stares at the wooden beam, scratched with memories and so many assassin feet. Putting on a brave face, she prepared herself for this step—and it doesn’t take her long to get up the ledge. Slowly, she walks down the beam, balancing perfectly over the chasm. Daring to take a peek, she sees the tiny stack of hay on the pavement, not looking very safe. Her heart rate picks up, but she’s more intrigued than scared. After all, what did she have to lose? 

If things went wrong, she’d miss Ezio’s smile the most. Probably the only thing keeping her here, on Earth—and the cause she was serving. The problem was her Master will never love her back. Didn’t she hear he had a sweetheart back in Firenze? Of course he did—guys like him never stay single unless they expressly want it. 

She stops in her steps, the wind ruffling her tresses. It felt nice, but her good mood is soured by the bittersweet feelings she was holding inside. Dio, she hated when she drank too much—she drowns in her sentiments and can’t swim back to the surface. Soon enough, tears start streaming down her face, tasting bitter, and it only frustrates her. 

Stupid love. Idiotic her. Damn Ezio. 

She wipes her face, but the tears won’t stop. Before she loses patience and courage, she takes another step on the beam, till the edge, creaking dangerously. An eagle squeaks somewhere above her, drawing circles—she felt reassured by that. One more—she looks down, the Earth titling, but she has no reason to care. She had to do this—just believe. 

Inhale—

“Cara mia!” 

The woman almost jumps out of her skin and loses balance at the sound of a distressed voice. She could recognize that low timbre anywhere—and the last thought as she was falling was that he was the last person she wanted to see. If she fell and missed, he’d lose a precious pupil; how stupid she was for ever thinking of doing this without his help! 

At least—

But Ezio has quick reflexes and he catches her before she plunges to her death, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her back to the safety—of his arms—of the ledge. Her arms automatically wrap around his body, enjoying the sensation of his warmth enveloping her. She inhales his crisp musk, losing her mind over it. For a few seconds, Ezio returns the embrace, holding her so tight he might crush some bones. It was rare of him to show affection—if it really was the case—so the young apprentice was taken by surprise. 

Still—was it just the alcohol or did he call her his sweet? 

It all ends abruptly, though, as he pulls away from her, anger blazing in those amber-colored eyes. “What were you thinking?” Before the girl could answer, he notices her glassy eyes and the tear streaks. He softens up—after all, it was rare for him to get mad nowadays. In his youth, he was a vengeful spirit, seeking out his family’s killers. 

But now, “What happened, bella?” 

Again with the pet names. What was going on with him? Was he as intoxicated as her? Peering into his lovely gaze, she could see he was as sober as he could be. She didn’t see him with a glass yet—although she avoided looking at her master too long. 

She tried to steady her heart as she smiled sheepishly, hiding her expression, “Alcohol and I don’t mix, unfortunately.” 

“Come down before you hurt yourself, alright?” he guides her by the hand, back to safety, and she sits down on a random crate. The adrenaline left her and she was coming back to reality—but she was more aware of his proximity than ever, as he sat down next to her on that small piece of box. His knee was touching hers and she felt jittery sparks. Still, she pushed the thought away and focused on his words—or more, on the way he carefully took her hand in his. 

“Why did you do that?” he asks, calmer now. His voice was soothing and it only made her want to cry some more. It just wasn’t fair. 

“All assassins need to do the leap of faith, no? I was trying it out.” She shrugs her shoulders as if she tried to avoid a direct answer: that the reason for this was him. 

Ezio is rubbing circles in her palm with his finger, sending shivers down her spine. “Then why the tears?” 

“It was the wind.” 

“I don’t believe it.” 

“Master, I—” 

“Call me Ezio from now on.” He grins, the moon highlighting the scar on his lips. He has taken off his hood, but not his white robe. His brown hair tied in a ponytail added to his charm, as always. It was rare to see him uncovered, and so she admired him closely without shame. He noticed her interest and his eyes took a flirtatious shape, leaning in. But it lasts only a moment before he goes on, “Do you regret killing that man?”

She shakes her head, vehemently, “No.” 

“Then?”

“The alcohol—it makes me emotional, that’s all.” She realizes she’s too close to falling into his trap—taking advantage of an inebriated woman was exactly the first move of a womanizer. She wants to get away from him, to remain master and student forever. There was no need for heartbreak, there was no need to pretend there was something going on when it wasn’t the truth. 

Still, she doesn’t move a muscle, preferring to stay there and enjoy the moment. How little she could. 

He chuckles—a beautiful sound to her ears. She feels her heart melting and turns her head to the side so he doesn’t notice her blush. 

“It’s good to see other sides of you, bella,” he whispers, softly. “I’m proud of you.”

“...Grazie.” 

Silence followed, a pause to let tears dry and unspoken words be said. His presence was comforting, as always, but she disengaged her hand from his. That was too much for her—and it only gave her unwanted ideas. Either way, it was nice to hear that he cared. The only thing he made concrete is their positions in this relationship: so close yet so far away. In some situations, there were boundaries that couldn’t be crossed.

As they were sitting there in peace, dawn emerged, painting the dark sky with strokes of orange and pink. 

“Oh!” she exclaimed, eyes lighting up with glee. “It’s beautiful!” 

The young woman was aware, in the back of his mind, that her words were the perfect set up for a pick-up line. Ezio didn’t hesitate to seize the opportunity to say something cheesy, a huge grin on his face as if he was going to say the most intelligent thing in the world. 

“Not as beautiful as you, tessoro.” 

Her old self would’ve swooned at the prospect of a wealthy young man being interested in her silly person. But she’s not the person from a few years ago, when all she could think of was giggling with the other girls and dreaming about poems from secret admirers. Those were happier times, when everyone was alive and there was never killing involved. 

But the new one, the ruthless assassin of the night that was just anointed, didn’t take kindly to pointless romance. She stood up, a whirlwind of fury and shame, glaring down at her master—the person of her affection. The woman wanted no more than his empty promises to be real, for him to love her as she did. The looks they shared weren’t just a bunch of lies. Maybe Ezio was eating her up whenever they locked gazes and there was a twinkle of softness in the smile he offered her. He wasn’t cocky like when he flirted with other donnas that came in his path. Those women were only a means to get to vital information—so there was no point in getting jealous.

Even if Ezio glanced back at her whenever he was getting too close to a lady; that gesture she never missed. 

She could only wonder: what was the point? 

Ezio Auditore is looking up at her with surprise in his amber eyes. He saw her angry before, at her inability to progress or understand the proper techniques. The young man found it rather endearing to see her cheeks puff like a squirrel. It was one of the many things he admired and loved about her—the girl who went through hell and came back a demon. 

“Don’t say words that you don’t mean, Auditore—I mean, Master!” 

“Cara—” 

“There you go again! I am not one of your courtesans, Ezio, to flirt and toy with!” She was pouring her soul into the words, mixed with hurt and longing. “We both know we are abnormal, we—” They’ve stepped the boundaries when they’ve leaned towards another for a kiss, then rudely interrupted before it was too late. They’ve stepped boundaries when they shared intimacies and let innocent gestures turn to something more serious. The tears are back again in her eyes—she hated how weak alcohol made her. 

“If you are not serious about it, then—” 

“Hey, you’re not even letting me speak!” Ezio stood up now, taking a step towards her. He wasn’t pissed off, but genuinely surprised by her outburst. “I thought you understood!” 

The young woman’s heart was screaming, so she obstinately raised her chin in defiance. What was there to understand? 

“That I am a fool?” Ezio takes another step, towering over her; but she doesn’t wait for another fake embrace. In an act of madness, she climbs the ledge again and, without even thinking about it, she jumps. 

In mid-air, she spreads her arms to the side, on instinct. She feels the current rush her, but she is still falling like a dead weight towards the ground. She doesn’t even want to watch, if she was going to hit the mark or not. She trusted her destiny, she trusted the creed, she trusted her master, and she believed she was an eagle like all the rest. 

No one was going to miss her anyway. Her family is waiting—

But her guardian angel is watching in the form of Ezio Auditore; she’s not yet aware but he followed her. She wasn’t going to let her do something stupid, so he jumped and rushed to her rescue. She might’ve passed an important test today, but leap of faiths weren’t to be taken lightly. What if she did this all by herself—what if he weren’t there to save her? Ezio didn’t want to think about that as he took her in his arms, holding her tight to his chest. He rolls so she falls on top of him; he notices she’s closing her eyes tight, a small smile on her face. 

They fall into the pile of hay with a soft thud, just like Ezio predicted. He had a sixth sense for this and he never missed. But the young man, most of all, felt fear. 

The new assassin pops her head out of the haystack, breathing out in excitement. She hops out of it, laughing maniacally. 

“That was fan—”

“Fanculo! Sei una stupida bella ragazza!” She was interrupted by Ezio’s loud and angry voice as he rose from the hay. The lone drunks prowling the streets scattered away, scared of the outburst. She only watches him like a scolded student, remembering the times she failed to impress him. The man grabs her shoulders, peering down at her. There was an unspeakable sentiment in his eyes, varying from anger, fear, and relief. A mix of all of them that made her cheeks go red from shame. She felt completely stupid by her actions—and she swears she’s going to atone for her sins. 

“I apolo—” 

“A cosa cazzo stavi pensando?” he goes on, his Italian accent thick and choked from too much excitement. She keeps her mouth shut, lets him vent out and awaits her punishment. However, he had other plans in mind, his calloused hands moving up to rest on her cheeks. He tilts her head up and they gaze into each other’s eyes, like two forgotten lovers. “Idiota.”

“Si,” she acknowledges.

“Don’t—” and he dips low, capturing her soft lips with his. It takes her a few seconds to wake up to reality, but he’s parting by the time she comes to her senses. “—do—” Again, he’s kissing her, slower, making her aware of the feel. She overcomes the shock and gets swept off her feet by the intensity of his feelings. “—that—” She’s ready for him now, leaning in to meet him halfway, pouring her heart out. This was a turning point in their relationship and they both knew it. “—again, bella.”

Ezio calmed down, resting his forehead on hers, gazing deeply. She sighs in content, never wanting for this moment to end or prove to be a dream. 

“Ezio.” It’s the only thing she can say, feeling weak in the knees. She was glad he was holding her, rubbing her thumb over her skin. “I won’t, I won’t. Promise.” 

He looks at her for a lie, but sees none. Instead of kissing her again, he hugs her, petting her hair and inhaling her scent. 

“I thought—fool that I am—that I lost you.” These words, said in a soft tone, warmed her. She hugged him as tight as she could, closing her eyes and enjoying the way his body felt underneath the clothes. “I tried not to worry about you; I know you can handle yourself, I’ve seen you, but—” he takes a shuddering breath, his emotions raw on his face. “—I’ve lost so much, cara.” He loosens his grip on her again, planting another needy kiss on her ripe mouth, one she gladly returns. For a few precious moments, they get lost in the feeling. His beard was scratching her skin, but she didn’t mind because this was all she ever wanted. 

“I don’t want to lose you too,” he explains, defeated. “And, trust me, I am not pulling this out of my ass.” His amber eyes were mesmerizing, drawing her into his madness. He tucks a loose piece of hair behind her ear, “I’ve come to admire your cunning, your bravery, and your determination.”

“Ezio…” she wants to believe this was right, but this was wrong. The reasonable part of her needed reassurance. “We are not allowed. What will the others say? You are my—my master.” She was getting nervous and fidgety. For now, nothing Ezio could do would calm her. He let her go on, express everything. “I could never—compare with—” She took a deep breath. “The point is, we can’t go on, whatever this is.” 

As a response, he laughs lightly. “You worry too much.” She pouts, but he goes on, “I thought about this too, but I am sure of what I am feeling.” Ezio takes her hands and brings them to his mouth, caressing them lightly. In her eyes, he looked so beautiful, with his eyes closed and long lashes, a few strands of hair falling over his face. He opens them, amber eyes sparkling in the upcoming light. “You are my equal now. We serve the same purpose. I don’t see you as a simple pupil—I couldn’t overlook such a beautiful lady like yourself.”

She rolls her eyes, “Stop.” 

“I am serious. Is it wrong for me to want more out of us?” Those puppy eyes only melted her resolve, just like he wanted to. “I’ve set my eyes on you a long time ago, but you never fell for my attempts. It...baffled me. You had me intrigued. All this time, you had me around your finger, not the opposite.” 

The woman can’t help but laugh at that, “I don’t believe it!” 

“You had more power than you think.” Suddenly, he turns sheepish, for the first time, unsure. “Cazo, this is not the way I planned the confession.” 

“It’s still romantic,” she added helpfully, trying to make him feel better. 

It worked as he grins cockily. “I’m glad I still have charm, bellissima.” He leans over, brushing their lips together like feathers. Ezio breathes on her mouth, seductively, “My eyes are only for you, no matter how impossible it sounds. We’re not so different, you and I.” 

“How do you know I feel the same way, Auditore?” she whispers back, already caught in his web. This was the last step that got her tangled—and she had no plans on escaping. She was a big fool and maybe she’ll cry later, but she shouldn’t regret it. 

There was nothing left to lose. 

“Are you joking?” Ezio laughs, slowly pushing her against a nearby wall. It felt cold under the thin fabric of her clothes and she shuddered. The brown-haired man seemed to like that. “I can see it in the way your body and mind bend to my will. How your breath stops for a second at my sight—” his teeth lightly graze her earlobe and, indeed, her breath hitched in her throat. “—and you can’t take your eyes off me.” 

“Same goes to you.” She retorts, not backing down now. 

“Ovviamente.” 

He’s practically purring by now, hands itching to roam all over her. Instead, he calms down and begs you, “Can’t you just give us a chance?” 

Her palms cup his face, rubbing his short stubble, pretending to think about it. She takes on the sexiest tone she could muster without feeling too embarrassed by it, and responds, “I’d like to take it slow…” Ezio distracts her how he knows best: by planting butterfly kisses over her neck. It was hard to think about anything else while he was lavishing her with his attention. 

“Anything for you, dolcezza. As long as you’re mine.” 

Morning was upon them—she could hear people waking up in their houses, ready for another day. In that instant she was aware of that, she noticed how tired she felt; sleep must come after such an eventful day. At the same time, Ezio seemed wide awake and ready to take advantage of this newly established relationship. His kisses were turning more than innocent—and she was melting like butter under his touch. 

“Shall we move this elsewhere?” he asks, eager to possess her whole being. 

“Take it slow, remember?” 

He snorts, rolling his eyes. In a few swift motions, he has her pinned on the wall with her arms above her head—she couldn’t escape. Before she could protest, they are both locked in an intense make-out session, with tongue and nothing to inhibit them. They’re kissing passionately, hungrily, like two feral creatures just discovering each other. It holds everything they wanted to say, the pent-up frustration and innate desire. It sends tingles down her spine and lust in his body. He doesn’t want to take it slow—not one bit—but he understands her reluctance.

All he needs to do is persuade her he meant every word. 

“I can’t take it slow,” he says when they take a short break. Her mind is spinning as he’s kissing her again with intensity. “But I’ll make a sacrifice.” 

He stops, leaving her breathless and panting, wanting for more. Ezio could see it in her eyes—a reflection of his own want. How bad did he want to ravage his pupil and make her beg for more…

He shudders just from thinking about it. “Together, we are making history, bella.” 

“Fine…” she says, sweat running down her skin and into unexplored territories. He couldn’t help but focus on a drop, mesmerized by the movement. “Just—” she was surrendering and this vulnerability endeared him. “—take good care of me, alright?” 

He smirks, “Of course.”

–

[masterlist]

[bat-besties]

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Remus is the most eccentric customer who visits Janus and Virgil's café. When he goes missing after talking to a mysterious stranger, Janus resolves to investigate further- and Virgil isn't letting him go alone.

AO3 10k 

Huge thanks to @mariniacipher, I could not have written this without her. She let me talk about the idea for hours, it has somehow developed into a series, and the story itself took a real twist because of talking to her! Another massive thank you to @5-crofters-jams, who did a marathon edit of the entire piece for me, and has made the story so much smoother and more effective (and much less British because my original dialogue did upset her American sensibilities XD) Also thanks to @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors, who knew everything I needed about pigeon corpses!

CW: dead bird, touching the bird corpse, bird funeral, Remus levels of comments about gore and innuendo, drug mention, mention of vomiting, kidnapping and captivity, feeling nauseous from anxiety, light dehumanization, brief allusion to racist violence

- 

Remus was...

(There was usually a little gesture there: Virgil’s rolled eyes, or Janus’ helplessly fond smile, or a disapproving look from Remy-)

....Remus.

Their anarchist cafe saw its fair share of unusual customers but only one of them was, well, Remus.

Morning sunlight threw beams which striped the posters covering the walls- old propaganda posters mixed with ads for tutors, food banks, and drag shows. There was a quiet chatter of customers, occasionally broken up by bursts of laughter or a called greeting to another patron as they came in. Kids from the skatepark sat on a pile of beanbags charging their phones, having given up the comfortable chairs for a small group of elderly butches with stretched tattoos who were now speaking with slang from fifty years ago. A mother whose baby was trying to grab onto her braids was trying to feed him with one hand and hold her husband’s with the other. A college student frowning at their laptop screen and consuming coffee at an alarming rate was seemingly oblivious to the punk trying to discreetly read their laptop stickers. One of a Pan-African flag matched the full-sized one on the wall, swaying with wafts of coffee and baked goods along with spider plants and assorted pride flags. Old photos of a Black Panther group in the town, reprinted and signed by some of their patrons, were framed proudly on the walls.

Since everyone had been served, Virgil was taking a few breaths to check over the register and prepare for the next rush. The rhythm of checking, preparing, and letting the background chatter fade into the background blended into a pleasant, thoughtless routine. Cups out. Setting out more sandwiches. Look over the register. Maybe get something from the back-

“Morning, shitwad!”

Virgil ducked under the counter as something thumped into the coffee machine behind him, and a few of the regulars laughed in good nature.

“Oh, good morning, darling,” Janus replied smoothly, appearing from the kitchen. He was wearing a yellow shirt which contrasted with his deep brown skin perfectly, as well as a bowler hat and dapper bow-tie. He pulled plastic gloves over his hands with all the elegance of a debutante preparing for a ball.

There was a shrill wolf whistle. “Those are some sexy wrists!” was the next comment, followed by a squawking laugh, and Virgil rolled his eyes as his friend brought a flustered hand up to adjust his collar. Every day, he faced the deep attraction between the most sophisticated person he knew and the most outlandish, and he didn’t know which was more obnoxious. As Virgil popped back up, Janus reached over to the projectile on the back counter. It was the small, feathery body of a dead pigeon, carefully wrapped in cling wrap.

Virgil gave Janus a long-suffering look and got out a bottle of disinfectant. “Morning, Remus,” he grumbled, despite his irritation. “What can I get for you today?”

“My friend died at 3am last night,” he replied instead. “I need to store her in your fridge until you both get off work, and then we’ll hold her funeral!”

When they were alive, Remus treated the pigeons as gently as they did each other-

That is to say, he was ruthlessly protective of chicks, ready to grab and move anyone encroaching on territory, and, if pecked, was fully ready to bite back. Still, at his two-tone whistle a whole flock of assorted birds would fly down to meet him. His eyes would shine bright as they flew around him like a feathered whirlwind, and settled on the surfaces all around him like a hopeful congregation as he fed them with whatever he had. Despite their number, almost all had names and ascribed personalities.

Exactly how he could tell the difference between two seemingly identical pigeons Virgil had no idea, and he wasn’t entirely sure that Remus wasn’t fucking with him about it.

“Why did you throw her if you’re trying to preserve her?” Virgil said, but he tried to keep the frustration out of his voice. In fairness, it didn’t look too damaged by the blow. It would take a lot to change the kindness Remus showed the doves, as roughly as he showed it.

“I thought you’d catch her, emo! It would have been a beautiful moment!” he protested, throwing his grey eyes open wide.

Virgil took a deep breath and nodded. “You know what? Yeah, maybe it would have been. But you forget-”

“Fight or flight,” Remus filled in. He shrugged. “I guess that makes sense.”

As usual, he was dressed in as many layers as he could be, with only a hint of pale skin showing on his face and through a pair of fingerless gloves he had cut himself. Everything else was an amalgamation of black and brown leather, denim, flannel, a puffy coat, a long flowing skirt in leopard-print, and fishnet tops over cotton T-shirts, leaving barely any Remus-outline at all. It didn’t matter what the weather was; his outfit might change components, but it never revealed so much as his neck.

Everyone had their reasons, Janus would quietly say at almost anything their customers said or did. It wouldn’t have crossed their minds to ask why he covered himself so much, but it was something Virgil couldn’t help but wonder about sometimes.

Maybe Janus was right and Remus was handsome, but his face was so obscured by his moustache, stubble, and makeup in purple and green- or whichever colours he felt like- that he seemed to be aiming for ‘gives you a headache after you look at him too long’ more than anything else.

His hair was almost literally a bird’s nest. He had completely rejected offers of a hairbrush or a comb, insisting he preferred it the way it was. The third co-owner of the cafe, Remy, with whom he was staying at the moment, had made many attempts to detangle his hair, all of which had been met with screaming and gnashing of teeth. After each clash, Remy would send Virgil a barrage of complaints by text. But while Janus had offered for Remus to stay at his own apartment, Virgil and Remy had made a mutual decision to save them from 24/7 pining by volunteering instead. Janus had refused even considering dating him the very first day he had barged his way into the cafe- and into its founder’s affection. As long as Remus came to them for food and shelter, it would be an unfair balance of power.

Remus reached into an inner pocket of his coat and slid a purple pin with a spider silhouette on it over to Virgil. “You could stab this into those big brown eyes of yours,” he said, widening his own at the barista.

“Sweet, thanks,” Virgil said, pinning it onto his apron string. It did match with his spider-web hair design. “Then I won’t have to look at Janus getting flustered any more.”

Remus grinned at Janus, who was trying to act as if he’d been so invested in carefully holding the pigeon that he hadn’t heard. He leaned on the counter and dropped his voice into a stage-whisper. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “I think he’s sexy.”

“That’s disgusting,” Virgil whispered back. “I’m going to throw up in your coffee.”

He shrugged. “I’d still drink it. Then I’d just be able to judge you based on your stomach bile.”

“You’d be so fucking impressed by my stomach bile,” Virgil retorted. “It’s so acidic from anxiety it would kill you immediately.” He turned to start wiping down anywhere the pigeon had even possibly touched.

“Bartender!” Remus yelled in an exaggerated English accent, banging on the counter. “Bartender! I would like a coffee and a sandwich, please!”

“One moment, my dear,” Janus said in a more passable impression, opening up the freezer door and placing the tiny corpse into an empty ice-cream container well away from the rest of the food. “I’m just cryopreserving- what’s her name?”

"Her name is Loki,” Remus supplied, his voice dropping to a matter-of-fact tone which was surprisingly tender coming from him. “She's good at stealing chips from tourists. And flying and shitting at the same time.”

Janus threw away his gloves, thoroughly washed his hands, then made a small note: "Loki: not for consumption." He glanced up at Remus so he could see the note, who repaid him by throwing his head back so he could laugh. Janus' mouth quirked into a snicker too, and the rest of the coffee shop seemed to fall away from the two looking at each other.

"We're going to get a violation," Virgil interrupted, because that was the expression of a Janus who would complain and pretend not to pine for hours after Remus left. He turned on the coffee machine to hopefully distract from the moment. "It's a dead fucking animal."

"So is the rest of the meat," Janus dismissed without looking at him. "And it is wrapped up and away from the rest of the food."

Ever since Virgil had joined the team and the cafe had begun to establish itself as a firm success, the city council had done everything in its power to shut it down. Each time, the cafe had won, even if their most recent fight was one of the most nerve-racking experiences of his life, and their personal lives had been dragged through the dusty carpet of every courtroom in the city. Each step of the way, Janus insisted that the risk was worth it.

After all that, Virgil was not letting the cafe close on account of a dead bird, as skilled a thief as she might have been.

"It’s a pest animal you let in here," he insisted.

Janus dismissed him with a shrug. "Come now, so is Remus."

The customer grinned. "You flatter me, rattlesnake." His eyes traced Janus' face as they scrunched up with joy. "Can you tell me about Dodgy Knees again?"

He closed his eyes as if pained. "Diogenes! Diogenes! I'll break your knees if you mispronounce-"

"Kinky!"

He rolled his eyes fondly. “Oh, is that so?”

So Virgil tried to ignore the disaster scenario of the cafe being shut for good, fixed a cup of coffee and a sandwich for Remus, and somehow got caught into a conversation about the pros and cons of leaving society to go feral in the woods.

“No, I do agree, but wolves-”

The door rattled, and an older white man with salt-and-pepper hair and a pinstripe suit walked in. He wasn’t entirely out of place amongst the clientele, but he honestly looked more like the businessmen in some of the cartoons Janus had papered one wall with. Remus ignored the bell as he leant his elbows on the counter, gesturing with his sandwich as he talked to Virgil while the barista came up to the register.

“How can I help you today?” Virgil asked the man, who was glancing around the decor. That type of customer was almost certainly drawn by the coffee, all blends hand-picked by Remy.

“I’ll be in and out in just a moment,” he replied with a small smile, and Remus stopped talking. “An espresso to go, please.”

Virgil nodded. “Sure, a moment-”

A blush crept up Remus’ cheeks, and he ducked his head with uncharacteristic shyness. As the man caught his eyes his entire expression softened, the hard lines of his face seeming to melt as his lips parted slightly, like he would say something. But, for once, he was speechless.

Janus looked as though he had been slapped in the face. “Are you acquainted?” he asked, in such a casual tone that Virgil knew he was deeply hurt. He arched an eyebrow as he waited for an answer.

“I- yes, I believe we are,” the customer gave a genial smile in return, his eyes fixed on Remus’. “Some time ago.”

Janus’ eyes narrowed. “Where do you know him from, Remus?”

There was a crinkle of plastic and leather as Remus shrugged. “Long story,” he said distantly.

Virgil slid a cup of coffee over to the man, who tapped a black card to the card reader and gave him a quick smile. “Keep the change,” he quipped. It was a tip some ten times greater than their recommended 20%.

“Thanks,” Virgil mumbled, but his focus was on his friend, who was drifting out of the door, as he tended to do at the end of a conversation. “Hey, Remus, we’ll see you later?” he called after him.

“Sure, Virgey!” he replied, giving him a quick grin before he held the door for the businessman, and the two of them walked out together. The older man ducked his head to whisper something into his ear, and Remus laughed and linked their arms as they headed into the street.

As soon as the door swung shut, a cloud settled over Janus’ expression. “Well,” he said, adjusting a sandwich which was just slightly out of line with the rest. “They say a stranger is a friend you haven’t met yet. It takes all sorts. To each, indeed, their-”

Before he could utter another saying, Virgil interrupted with a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure it’s not what it looks like.”

“And what does it look like?” Janus asked caustically. “Remus was acting unusually, yes?”

“Sometimes people get nervous,” he ventured. “If they like someone-” There wasn’t a single trait Remus said wasn’t his type; a silver fox with money was as good as any.

“Don’t say ‘like’, it’s so middle school,” he snapped, and Virgil flinched at the tone in his voice. He grabbed a cloth and headed over to a table which some regulars he knew were just vacating to wipe it down. Poor Loki’s funeral was going to be a tense event.

Except, as night fell and the cafe began to glow with the golden lights and the warmth of the ovens, and as Remy arrived to help them with the evening rush, Remus didn’t show up for the body in their freezer.

The brief liveliness Janus had shown bustling between the kitchen and the front faded as the final family trickled out. He waved away most of their offered money, seeing as it was a birthday party and he knew them, and Remy and Virgil made meaningful eye contact but didn’t protest.

As they closed, Remy filled the awkward silence with chatter about the men he was dating, the new hair product he had tried, the fact Remus never washed up when he was told to, and he was, like, so sick of it-

But no Remus appeared to defend himself, even after they left half-an-hour late and each one tried to call him.

He didn’t appear at Remy’s to sleep overnight, and he didn’t come into the cafe at all the next day.

That next night, Janus disappeared into the back, leaving Virgil to clean up by himself.

His stomach was upset, and he couldn’t help but think about that man over and over.

Long story- what exactly did “long story” mean?

Remy used the phrase when it really was a complicated story full of exes and rumours and friends of friends-

Virgil used it when he was asked why he didn’t speak to his family any more.

But he’d never seen Remus look like that before, and the guy had seemed nice- and there was an obvious suggestion for why his friend was busy overnight.

He realised he’d been wiping down the same table for the past five minutes.

“Virgil,” Janus said quietly behind him.

“Yeah?” he turned, and his brow immediately furrowed at his friend’s sombre expression.

He had his phone in one hand, and his hat in his other. “I’m going to ask you for a favour,” he said slowly. “You are quite free to decline it.” He paused. “I want to go to the house of the man who Remus went out with, and check that he’s alright.”

“I...don’t know that’s a good idea,” he said, twisting the spider badge on his apron so he could avoid the weight of his friend’s expression. “I mean...it could be an invasion of Remus’ privacy, if that was an old friend or-” Scared of causing further upset, he tilted his head to fill in ‘something else’.

“Yes, I know.” He sighed, looking out into the night through their plate-glass windows. “You know I’m not one for hunches-”

“Eh, you turned out a guy for being an undercover cop in like two seconds because he asked about ‘The Antifa’-”

Janus gave him a look with almost the level of exasperated fondness Remus engendered, and Virgil fell silent.

“I’m not one for hunches, but I’m usually right when I have them, then,” he finished lightly. “I have a very bad feeling, and a Google Search for anyone in the town who could possibly have a black card doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Anxiety coagulated in his stomach, but he tried for his final hope. “Are you sure it’s not...jealousy?”

He gave him a long, tired look. “The thought has never even been a worry of mine,” he said drily. “Still, I can go by myself, and make my own self a bother, worse, a fool.”

And it wasn’t really a question at all whether Virgil would let that happen. “Two of us is just a bother,” he replied with a confidence he didn’t feel, unclipping his badge from his apron and slipping it into his hoodie pocket.

Janus hung up his hat and put on a neat suit jacket over his outfit. “Thank you, really-”

He shook his head, opening the door so that a rush of petrichor and tarmac washed out the pervasive smell of coffee and food from the cafe. “Let’s go.”

They walked out into the night, still damp from the earlier rains. The lights of the shops around them reflected against the wet tarmac, and music pumped out of passing cars giddy with the promise of the coming weekend. They headed to the bus stop, Janus politely greeting every person they passed, and Virgil ducking his head so he didn’t have to. He didn’t know if the people who replied were familiar to his friend from the neighbourhood, or just trying to be polite in turn.

As soon as the bus stopped with a hiss of steam, Janus led him down to the back, and sat by the window, checking the map on his phone again. “It will be some time,” he said. “But, I ask you to be patient.”

“Course.” Virgil rested his head on Janus’ shoulder and closed his eyes. “Just tell me the stop before and I’ll be...right with you.” Moving vehicles lulled him to sleep anyway, and he would just worry the whole way otherwise.

“Of course.” Janus wrapped an arm around him, so he wasn’t jolted as the bus started again.

As Virgil dozed in fits and starts, the window changed from views of convenience stores and fast food shops to blocks of apartments, to anonymous offices and retail outlets, to high-walled parks, and then houses set back from the road by sweeping drive-ways or pavements almost as wide as the road was. Finally, his head was jostled off Janus’ shoulders, and he blinked as the stop dinged, too loud after the fog of sleep. Outside, it was pitch black but for the pools of light beneath the streetlights, and the golden glow which the mansions kept far behind barred gates.

They stumbled off the bus, and Janus checked his phone just once more before they headed off down one of the identical sides of the road.

Virgil pulled his hoodie close around him against the night chill. He considered putting his hood on to protect his ears from the nipping wind, but they were already two black men alone in a very white neighbourhood. It wasn’t worth it when his stomach was already rolling with anxiety. He rubbed his thumb over the badge in his pocket and tried to breathe the cold air in 4-7-8. They walked over empty roads, past rows and rows of similar houses, until they turned a corner and cars lined the road, piling into a single driveway which was illuminated like a Christmas lights display. A few fancily-dressed guests stood by the cars, but most of the noise came from inside. The house towered even its neighbours, and was built in the faux-Classical style which he hated.

Janus checked the address against his phone, then nodded. “That’s it. What did you call those, again? False temples?”

“Temples to dumb rich Americans and bad architecture,” Virgil supplied with a quirk of his lips.

“Quite right,” he replied, assessing the entrance. “And in all likelihood, Remus is stuck inside with his…”

“Yup.” He looked between his own patchwork hoodie and Janus’ dapper suit. “Maybe you could sneak in, but I definitely wouldn’t fit in.”

He straightened, and adjusted his bowtie. “Then we’ll go around the back,” he replied.

Virgil shook his head. “Nope, nope, nope, that’s- Jesus Christ, no, that’s a great way to get arrested or even shot. No.”

“Virgil,” Janus said quietly. “These past two months, Remus has visited us every day except that brief time after the fight over the milk cartons, or whatever it was-”

“I asked him to clean up a drop of milk and he poured the rest of the carton over my kitchen,” he said sourly, which he felt he was entitled to despite the situation.

“Yes, yes,” Janus dismissed. “Anyway- he always comes, doesn’t he? So now-”

“I have a really, really bad feeling- and bad thought, and bad everything-” he protested, backing away from the gate.

An orange sports car swerved past them, and parked horizontally across the driveway, and a young white man in a tracksuit the same colour as his car leapt out and gave them a wide grin. “Hey! Hey! Hello!” he yelled, and flashed them peace signs, to which Janus replied with a pained smile and Virgil a small wave. “Everything’s started- have they done the fireworks yet? Or the, shit, thing with the melted chocolate and it flows-”

“Chocolate fountain,” Janus supplied with the smile he reserved for his more aggravating customers. He slipped his arm into Virgil’s and pulled them forwards. “We were hoping to arrive for that too, ah-?” He waited for the man to supply his name, but instead-

“I like your hair!” he said to Virgil, admiring the spider web design. “Rad!”

“Yeah, thanks,” he replied, subtly trying to pull them backwards as Janus marched him to the door after the guest. “Your car is...yeah, that sure is a car.”

“Sure is!” he replied with a blindingly white smile. He flashed something at a bodyguard at the door- who had sunglasses, earpiece, everything- Virgil noted with a sickening thrill of fear.

“And your friends, sir?” the bodyguard asked.

“Yeah, yeah!” The guest tossed his car keys at his chest and headed through to a foyer filled with well-cut suits and low-cut dresses, champagne glasses and trays of canapes. Marble floors reflected the lighting, which glinted out from chandeliers above. A wide staircase glided up to the hidden upper floors.

“Oh, hey! Hey, you!” the young man yelled as soon as he got in, bounding over towards a woman who greeted him with a grin, raising her glass like a toast.

Janus and Virgil just blinked at each other. “Are you...sure?” Virgil asked quietly. “Remus is here?”

“I’m honestly not so sure any more,” Janus muttered to him. “But let’s not rely on whatever chemicals are keeping our dear friend happy, and start looking around.”

They moved through a throng of people and out into a wide ballroom, filled with yet more guests and a live string quartet playing in one corner. Along with the music was the trilling of occasional birdsong from tropical birds fluttering inside several oversized golden cages dotted around the room. A few others held white marble statues, but they couldn’t compare to the shifting flurries of reds, blues, and greens. Without agreeing on it aloud, the friends first went over to a small party congregated by one of them, in case the birds had attracted Remus.

“No, but then I said-” A balding man was proclaiming. “I said, Rudy, that’s not the Dow Jones Industrial Average at all.”

The group burst into laughter, Virgil gave Janus a bemused look, and they moved on.

Everyone was well-dressed, in sparkling necklaces or ties in jewel colours or even in more casual clothes, like the man from the sports car, which still seemed to drip wealth. Wearing sneakers with a suit wasn’t that fancy a look, but when even Virgil recognised that pair from an ad campaign for a luxury fashion line which would come out next month, he guessed it didn’t matter. Nobody looked at them twice. Still, there was nobody dressed in the contents of an entire rummage-sale bin with purple eyeshadow used as contour.

“There-” Janus whispered- “Is that?”

They both froze as they watched a man with a moustache waltz past in the arms of a lady dressed in black. It wasn’t Remus.

Virgil scanned the room again, eyes passing over the gilded cages, and the tropical birds and statues inside them- nobody in the crowd admiring them was any business of his-

As they parted, the figure inside the tallest gold cage became clear. It shifted position- an animatronic? He looked more closely as it moved after everyone had turned away, fiddling with golden chains around its-

“Oh God-” he whispered. “Look.”

Virgil was an avowed atheist, but if the person inside the cage wasn’t a statue, he must have been an angel. His shining hair was cut short to show of the clean marble lines of his face. His chest was sculpted too, covered in scars which looked like they must have come from a golden sword like the one he was gripping. He looked as if he would swing it into position if not for the gold chains wrapped around his arms, tethering him to the delicate bars of the cage. He was gazing out into the distance.

Most striking of all, dove-grey wings crested over his shoulders and trailed all the way down to his ankles. His white tunic contrasted the hints of pale purple, pink and blue shimmering in his wings.

It was one of the most beautiful sights Virgil had ever seen.

He glanced at Janus for his reaction.

He found only an expression of absolute horror. Janus was completely silent for a moment, struggling for words, before he gasped. "Oh, Remus- what did they do to you?”

A cold feeling washed over him.

No- those were their friend's grey eyes, and that was the shape of his face, stripped of his facial hair and usual tacky makeup. No wonder Virgil hadn't recognised him.

Compared to the usual chaotic spark in his expression, he looked blank. As if his mind was somewhere else entirely- or like he'd been drugged.

Still, Virgil couldn’t help but be drawn back to his wings; they were hyper-realistic, even twitching as he tried to tense his shoulders to alleviate the pressure of the chains on his arms. And the amount of feathers it would have taken to make that shifting, downy gradient...not even all of Remus’ flock had that many. It was compelling, but sickening.

It felt wrong to look over his arms and legs when he was usually so adamant about covering them, so he dropped his eyes and tried to erase the knowledge of how muscled Remus was beneath his usual shapeless outfit.

It wasn’t that Virgil found his friend attractive exactly, but with wings like that, dressed like that- he was a centerpiece, clearly, and even as his stomach churned with the wrongness of the display, it was a palpable effort to keep his gaze from snapping back to him. “I’m gonna be sick,” he muttered to Janus.

“He’d never, ever choose to dress himself like that in front of everyone," Janus whispered, anger crackling red at the edges of his quiet voice. "And even if he did, he’d never shave off his moustache.”

He shook his head. “So...what do we do?”

In response, Janus sauntered over to the left, took a champagne flute from a waiter, and then gestured for his friend to follow. They zigzagged through the crowd until they got closer to Remus, whose eyes remained glazed and distant.

They stopped just by him. Up close, it was clear the tunic was some kind of cotton material, and the sword had blunted edges. He was wearing makeup too, and a lump in his mascara made Virgil feel another sharp pang of pity. As ridiculous as painting them on would have been, how real the scars looked in comparison to the rest of the outfit was jarring. He was built and scarred like a fighter, and all the little touches to make him look delicate only emphasised how roughened he was. Both were at odds with everything he knew of his friend.

“Remus,” Janus whispered. The name fell like a plea. “Remus, it’s us.”

All of a sudden, the man’s eyes snapped to them, his expression melting into disbelief. “Remus?” he echoed. It was as quiet as a whisper from a crypt. “You know him?”

“You’re-” Janus’ face fell. “Remus, that’s you-”

The man almost imperceptibly shook his head. “Twins, we’re twins- you know him? Please, is he okay?” He looked almost identical, though up close the differences began to stand out. He was probably more muscular, but who could tell under all of Remus’ clothes? The main differences were a gap between this twin’s front teeth and, more than that, his eyes. Even as he looked at them desperately, there was something missing from them, some jolt of hope or excitement which just wasn’t there. Their heaviness was an uncomfortable weight on Virgil’s face.

He wrapped an arm around himself. “Sorry, he went missing-”

“But we tracked the man he left with back here,” Janus filled in. “Isn’t he here too?”

The man shook his head again. “No, I- I’ll earn more information, after this. I don’t know anything,” he whispered. “I just know he found him, and he wants him to come back without a fight.”

Virgil never should have just watched as that man walked Remus out of the coffee shop. Long story his ass- “What the fuck is happening?”

Remus’ twin tried to shrug and then winced as the movement tugged on the chains. His wings fluttered with the movement. “They just tranqued us the first time. I don’t know why he’s delaying recapture-” He took a deep breath. “Just tell him to run away as soon as he can.” His grey eyes hardened to steel. “He might as well keep doing it.”

“I will if I can find him, thank you.” Janus took a small sip of his champagne. “What exactly was the capture for, if I can ask?”

The captive glanced around the room, and at the movement Virgil cut his eyes to the side. Nobody watched that he could see. “The wings, of course,” he said with a bitter smile. “Yes, yes, they’re real, go ahead and look at them.”

Janus’ eyes widened, subtly taking in the wings.

“My name’s Roman,” he continued in a low, urgent voice. “Tell him that Roman said to run, okay? Don’t listen to any of their offers or threats. I’m not a gladiator anymore; I’m here instead. It’s...not too bad.”

As Janus opened his mouth, Roman shook his head. “Don’t talk to me too long.”

“We can get you out,” Virgil said before he knew what he was thinking. “Whatever this is-”

“Go,” Roman insisted. “It’s not worth trying to do anything for me. And don’t call the police-”

Janus rolled his eyes. “You really don’t need to worry about that.”

“Fine.” he lifted his eyes to the middle distance again. “You should go now. Please.”

Virgil gave a little nod, taking Janus’ arm. “Okay. We’re gonna go.”

“Thank you,” Janus added. He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but then let Virgil lead him away.

He steered them back through the ballroom with their backs to Roman, trying not to glare into the eyes of each of the guests they passed. It would almost have been easier if there was a big fuss and show about the captive man, rather than the chatting and dancing and gossiping with, oh, a living being as a conversational curiosity-

As they came back into the entrance, Janus began to turn towards the sweeping staircase.

“No,” Virgil said under his breath, trying to tug him back to the doorway. “No fucking way. I know you’re angry but-”

“I’m not angry,” he replied coolly. “I am, rather, curious. Because I don't think they tell everything to Roman, and we’re not going to get luck like this again. Any information will help.”

He glanced up at where the staircase twisted out of sight. If Remus was up there, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. And, despite his words, Janus was throw-ignorant-customers-out-of-the-cafe mad. Except, he wasn’t quoting memoirs of increasingly obscure activists or putting neat yellow gloves on in warning, so Virgil didn’t know what he would do.

On cue, Janus reached into his breast pocket and drew out the gloves. He slipped one on, tugging it into place. “Better for fingerprints, and more neat.” He glanced at Virgil. “You don’t have to come with me, in fact it may be better if you didn’t.”

It wasn’t fair for Janus to pull on his ridiculous gloves like a boxer about to face a much bigger opponent, and ask him not to fight by his side. Even if Virgil had decided to leave the party, it wouldn’t have been fair.

“I will,” he said, tucking his hands into hoodie paws. His heart was thumping against his ribcage as if it would break out- that was a thought to tell Remus when they saw him. “I’m gonna complain about it afterwards.”

Despite his apparent composure, it took Janus a moment too long to answer as his eyes traced Virgil’s face. “Of course.” He took his arm. “Shall we?”

He was half-expecting an alarm to blare as soon as they set foot on the first stair- but nobody noticed. They took another few steps, feet sinking into the thick red runner. The back of his neck prickled with stares, but he knew from long experience that those were imagined. Or were they? No, that was anxiety. Janus’ hand tightened on his forearm and he stopped. Above, someone paced past on a wooden floor in the measured rhythm of a guard. He gagged.

“Deep breaths,” Janus murmured.

“I hate this,” he replied. Then he forced a breath in his nose and out of his mouth.

After the footsteps faded, they kept walking until Virgil moved his heavy boot onto the polished wood floor as gently as possible. Identical two-panel white doors stretched along the hallway without any noticeable distinction, until the corridor took a right turn at the end of the row.

“You take the left, I’ll take the right,” Virgil whispered, and Janus nodded.

With their footsteps echoing almost too loud on the floor, they each crept to the far ends of the hallway. There was nothing beyond the corner except another staircase, and thankfully no more doors.

He tried the door handle on the far right with his sleeve over his hand, and it turned. He nudged it open and peeked in to see a huge bedroom strewn with suitcases and clothes, and a sparkling necklace of diamonds carelessly draped over a black dress. But no Remus. He shut it and moved onto the next.

Locked. The next was too. His hands were shaking like there was a motor in them.

He closed his eyes and leant his head against the wall, trying to ground himself in the sensation. Okay. Next one- unlocked.

It was a bathroom, all white marble and gold like downstairs. He closed the door and glanced over to Janus, who shook his head.

He glanced at the staircase before crossing the corridor and turning the handle of the middle door slightly.

A voice rose behind the door, deeper and smoother than Remus’. “Hello?”

Virgil reached in desperation for the next door handle as footsteps sounded from inside, and tugged it open in time for Janus to walk in quickly and efficiently in the rhythm of the security guard. He followed with a few strides, shutting the door behind him in with a fumbled click. The room was an empty guest bedroom. Janus was hiding himself under the bed before Virgil caught his arm and pulled him out. He headed to the big sliding window.

“Please, please-” he whispered to himself, trying to lift it. Locked, locked, oh God-

Janus searched the mantelpiece for a moment before pressing a cold key into Virgil’s hand. He tried to put it in but his hands were shaking too badly and he couldn’t-

Janus took it off him. It fit with a click.

Virgil pushed up the window in a rush of cool air. He climbed out onto the little ornamental balcony running between a few windows and stood flat to the wall, chest heaving, before Janus followed with a tumble. He reached over and shut the window while Janus crouched down below the sill. The room was still empty.

Virgil slid down the wall, trembling hands over his mouth. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and he was sure he would be sick-

Janus had curled into a ball, forehead to the stone of the balcony.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that.

After a while, they ended up both sitting side by side in the space between the two windows, hands twisted together. It was silent.

Virgil glanced back into the room. “It’s empty,” he whispered. “We should leave.”

Janus nodded. “One moment-” He crept towards the other window and peeked in the bottom before he dropped to the ground, hand over his mouth.

Virgil widened his eyes. On cue, his heart finished its brief rest.

Janus pointed to his suit jacket, then made a rectangle shape with his fingers. Virgil frowned. His friend repeated the gesture, and it clicked. Black card.

He so, so badly wanted to run now, but instead he crawled over to poke Janus in the side so he would move over to give him space by the window. Their eyes met, and Virgil pulled his hood over his cold ears to settle in for a wait. He kept his head down, pillowed on his forearms, while Janus risked peeking up every few minutes.

Suddenly, Janus grabbed his arm. Virgil lifted his head. He could just about see Roman standing in the doorway, rubbing at the deep red marks around his forearms, and the captor leaning back in a leather armchair holding a glass.

Janus put his hands up to the window-

“Janus,” Virgil hissed, but then the window slid a crack upwards and voices travelled through.

“Quite the party, wasn’t it?” the captor said, pouring himself a drink.

Roman nodded too quickly. “Yeah,” he said in a hoarse voice, attempting a smile which didn’t reach his eyes, which were fixed on a closed silver laptop on a side table. “Yes, it was...very grand!”

He rolled his eyes. “What did you think of the decor?”

“Quite magnificent! Like a- an aviary in a palace.” His wings were trembling as though there were a breeze running through them.

Tilting his head and looking Roman up and down, the captor spoke just as genially as he had in the cafe. “You really aren’t as interesting as your brother was. Too many blows to the head, no doubt.”

Roman’s mouth tightened. His fists had too.

Against the deep, comfortable, red-brown tones of leather and what must have been genuine mahogany, and the backs of books all bound neatly and sticking out of the shelf as though frequently read, Roman’s outfit stood out as even more fake. Gold accents in the sandals he was wearing matched the subtle gold trimmings of the room, but if the study were a convincing stage, Roman looked like a badly cast understudy.

The captor laughed. “Predictable. This isn’t the fighting pits.”

Virgil and Janus shared a look before watching again.

“Your brother’s been living like a tramp and he’s still more beautiful than you are, under all the mess,” he commented, as casually as if he was observing the weather. Roman’s eyebrows drew together, watching for the end of the statement. He brought up a hand to cover a scar along the edge of his neck. “He’s not as scraped up as you, of course. And he really-” He swirled his whiskey for a moment before taking a sip of it. “He really is genuine. You can imagine worse things than this, can’t you?”

He paused, then nodded.

He shrugged. “He can’t. That’s the difference.”

Janus grabbed Virgil’s hand. He curled over and pressed it to his own forehead. Virgil rested his hand on his back and bent to whisper in his ear. “Hey, only I need to listen, so-”

He shook his head and Virgil cut off, peeking back over the windowsill.

For just a moment Roman glanced at the window before he asked, “So, where is Remus anyways?” He seemed to freeze as he waited for the answer, a statue once again.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” He held his hand out and Roman looked at him blankly. “The laptop,” he snapped.

“Oh!” He grabbed it from the side table and tried to hand it over from a distance.

He took it and flipped it open. Roman stepped back immediately, hopping from one foot to the other like a boxer. Virgil felt himself tapping on Janus’ back in sympathy.

The captor flipped the screen open and typed for a moment before he began to read something. Virgil felt Janus’ chest go still.

The captor laughed. “Oh, would you look at that- “Queer Eye’s Karamo Brown urged to cut ties with Salvation Army”.” He shook his head. “There’s nothing worse than a hypocrite- did you know about this?”

Remus’ brother’s jaw tensed and he shook his head.

He carried on reading for a little while, tutting, and then switching to another tab. “Okay, fine- come and look.”

He crossed the room to stand behind the man, hands gripping onto the back of the sofa as if he would fall over without its support.

“Don’t touch the furniture.” With a roll of his eyes, he reached his hand behind him, twisted his hand into his captive’s wing- then tugged. As he pulled a handful of feathers away Virgil winced, but Roman only reacted with a tightening of his hands. Then he took a measured step back from the couch.

“You know,” the captor said so softly that Virgil had to strain to hear him. “You know, Remus would have cried and cried at that.” He scattered the feathers, spotted with blood, over the floor. “That, or started swearing- and the crying would come after that.”

“You’ve told me before,” Roman snapped. As soon as he spoke, he froze again. “Oh, uh- I’m sorry-”

The laptop clicked shut. “I asked you to behave this evening,” the captor said, getting up and tucking it under his arm. Virgil and Janus crouched down further. For some reason, a tiny chip in the stone paving caught Virgil’s eyes. A tiny fissure ran from it into the rest of the solid slab. “That meant all of this evening.”

“Please-” His voice broke, and pitched high it sounded like Remus’. Janus’ hand tightened on Virgil’s until it hurt.

“Out.”

Virgil tugged on Janus’ hand and bent his head to his ear. “C’mon, we need to go.”

Janus looked up. His eyes were shining, and at the same time Virgil felt like a monster for not crying and a sharp annoyance that his friend had given into his emotions. He took a deep breath, and both feelings passed. He tugged on his hand again. “Okay, time to go,” he whispered.

He decided not to risk closing the window while the man was still in the room, just nudging Janus to the side. They crept across the balcony, slid up the far window, and climbed through one after the other, painfully slow.

They padded through the empty room, then opened the door and slipped out together. Downstairs, the last of the party guests were trailing out, either upright with exhaustion shining in their eyes to match the sparkle of their jewels, or with the help of a few discreet employees supporting champagne-soggy legs. Wordlessly, Janus slung his arm over Virgil’s shoulder, and he let his friend lean on him as they passed security and walked down the long drive to the dark street. He was heavy, but Virgil was careful not to stumble.

They carried on walking that way until the corner, when Janus straightened up and adjusted his jacket. Still, they crossed the road side-by-side and didn’t speak.

As they walked, the bottom of the sky was being washed out into greyness. The houses were unlit now, and they looked smaller in the dark. It just barely smelt of metallic dew. Virgil thought he might start screaming if he opened his mouth.

They reached the bus station sooner than expected. There was half-an-hour before the first early-morning bus. With a huff of air, he sat down on the pavement and leaned his back against the pole.

“Well that was just what we expected, wasn’t it?” Janus said lightly. He stayed standing, facing the mansion they had come from. Virgil looked up at him in silence. “I’m going to murder that man,” he continued in the same tone. “The security for that house is shocking. I’m sure it isn’t that hard. Perhaps I should let the twins do it, though.”

He nodded. “I’ll help bury the body.”

“You know, Virgil,” Janus met his eyes. “You really are the best friend anyone could ask for.”

"What?" he mumbled as he looked down. "He was a dick."

"Come now, you also broke into the house of someone connected to illegal fighting rings whose interior decoration tended to the alive and miserable.”

Heat flooded into his face. “Least I can do.”

“Quite a bit more than the least.” His lips quirked into a smile. “Especially for someone who was terrified of talking to customers a year ago.”

"Oh, shut up." He poked Janus' neat brogue with his boot. "Mr. Sherlock Holmes here figured out the whole thing anyway." His chest felt funny, and he hugged his arms around it.

"Well, Watson," He took a deep breath and decided to stop tormenting Virgil with his tenderness. "I have our final deduction- the man had no clue where Remus is."

"Really?"

Janus shook his head. “He was just looking for an excuse for Roman to slip up the whole time. Taunting him, the furniture, physically hurting him- it was all trying to push him to some tiny ‘infraction’ so he could bluff about the information.”

“Huh.” He replayed the events and nodded slowly. “Sure, I can see that. Still, we don’t know if he’s always like that. He didn’t deny the information when Roman touched the furniture- which is a fucked up rule, Jan- I don’t know if him not saying where Remus is was an excuse at all. He said Remus was better than his brother, and he gets pissed when you suggest cutting those clumps out of his hair. He must have been-” He regretted saying it to Janus, but it was deduction time. “He must have been really- cruel to him for Remus to act anything like Roman. He enjoys being cruel, clearly.”

“You’re right.” He twisted the finger of his glove. “Still, surely telling Roman about how scared Remus was would upset him. And he didn’t, so something doesn’t add up.”

Well, his intuition hadn’t lied before. “So what do we do?”

“We find Remus first.” He straightened his shoulders. “Remy would have texted if he went back to the apartment, we can assume he’s not at the cafe since he was found there, and he could have gone to his usual parks and streets but if he’s being watched he wouldn’t. So, where would he go?”

“It wouldn’t be anywhere with a lot of people,” Virgil added. “Or maybe even with a lot of birds, since they all come to him. Somewhere abandoned?”

Janus nodded. “I think we could check out some of the old warehouse districts.”

He nodded. “Sounds like a start. That one’s only ten minutes after the home one.”

They waited quietly, each caught up in their own thoughts. The bus to their district began trundling past until it slowed down for them and the door opened.

Janus shook his head at the driver. “Sorry, we’re not coming.”

She began to close the doors again without comment.

“Wait!” Virgil waved at her. “Wait a moment! Wait-”

She stopped with a huff almost as loud as the bus’ exhaust. Janus let Virgil pull him through the door by his hand, tapping his card dutifully.

He raised an eyebrow as they stumbled into some seats.

“Where’s the place we were talking about running to just before, uh, bird-friend left?” Virgil whispered, even though he doubted the tired commuters would be listening in for names and details. “And where can you bury the kind of bird friend in our freezer? And where wouldn’t be a place you’d search?”

“The forest?” he replied. There was only a scrubby patch of it outside the city.

“Yup. Look, we should go back to the cafe to get Loki, anyone asks and we’re just, you know, getting rid of the health violation in the fridge in a way which isn’t a health risk to a park or anything.”

Janus stifled a yawn. “That’s very smart.”

“Thanks, it was kinda impulsive, but-” Virgil shrugged as he looked out the window at the unrelenting row of houses. “I’m happy to be out of there.” He tucked his arm around his friend. “And you can nap until we get there.”

“I’m just fine, Virgil,” Janus replied, affronted. “Besides, I don’t want to rumple my outfit.”

Virgil gave an exaggerated yawn himself, and Janus immediately followed. He glared at him, which only made Virgil give him a small grin. “Bedtime.”

He was met with a head thunking onto his shoulder. “You had better wake me up in time,” he threatened.

“I will.” He readjusted so he was more comfortable. “We’ll be fine.”

*

By time they reached the cafe the sky was white and grey. Virgil waited by the bus stop, leaning his head against it as a half-asleep Janus unlocked the front. After enough time for Virgil to consider if he could sleep upright (five minutes), he reappeared with a canvas bag with a rainbow flag hand-printed on it, and a stack of three sandwiches, which he handed to Virgil.

The bus came soon after, and they collapsed into one of the back seats.

They had barely finished the sandwiches by the time they reached their next stop. They got out onto a cracked bit of sidewalk and looked at the trees rising above them. Silent, they walked forward until the concrete suddenly ended.

Virgil breathed in the stench of wild garlic and dug his toe into the slimy layer of dead leaves. Damp air curled in his mouth as though it would die peacefully there. Something chittered in the distance, and then cut off suddenly. He tried to tilt his head up to look at the trees and suddenly the vertigo of only sleeping for a few hours on the bus journeys hit him.

It was a world away from the gilded cage and the dizzying party.

He took a deep breath. “This feels right.”

Janus nodded. He tucked the bag under his arm carefully. “I hope…” he trailed off softly. “Well, Virgil, let us venture onwards.”

He touched his friend’s elbow for just a moment before he walked into the dark trees. After a moment, Janus followed, and they walked on together.

There was occasional litter, plastic bags and water bottles, but as they got deeper into the thick trees and tangled brambles along the forest floor it disappeared. Janus winced as he tried to lift his perfectly shone shoes over a muddy patch Virgil’s leather boots trudged through with ease. The trees were stout and gnarled, fungus protruding out of them like infections.

They wandered without any real direction, just trying to make their way further into the labyrinth of trees.

Virgil suddenly caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye and he grabbed his friend’s arm.

It could have been a pile of abandoned clothes and torn out feathers-

But there was a glimpse of leopard print, and the vague outline of wings, and a low crooning coming from the figure curled there.

Janus crouched down six feet away from him, laying Loki’s bag by his side. “Remus,” he said so softly that Virgil barely heard it. “Remus, it’s Janus.”

Remus froze. Then his wings curved up around him. They were a lot taller than Janus was crouching. A pair of grey eyes came up to meet Janus’. His lips parted as he looked over the two of them. His purple and green makeup was smeared together until it looked like a black eye, and even his moustache seemed to have its own case of bed-head.

“We-” Virgil cleared his throat against a sudden lump. “Well, Janus, mostly, he found the guy’s house? And we went there, and, uh, we were worried about you so we looked.”

His eyes widened.

“We found your brother,” Janus said in a quiet voice. “Roman. He told us to tell you that he wasn’t a gladiator any more; he was there instead. That it, uh, wasn’t too bad.”

For a moment, Remus stopped breathing. Then he brought his hands up to his head, slumping his shoulders and letting his wings wrap around himself. “Bullshit,” he said hoarsely. “What else did he say?”

Janus bit his lip. “He told you to run away as soon as you could, and not to listen to anything they offered or threatened.”

Remus made a strangled yelping laugh which set Virgil’s teeth on edge. His wings were trembling so much that there was a slight breeze on his face. “Roman’s saviour goddamn hero bullshit-” He twined his fingers into his hair and started tugging. “He’s not- fuck,” he winced as he caught a matted section. “Not pathetic enough for that job.”

Janus tried to reach a hand out to untangle his hands from his hair, but Remus only stilled and leaned his head into his glove. Janus gently tugged at his wrist, but Remus wrapped his fingers around his hand and held it to his hair.

“Dude, you’re not pathetic. You broke out of that place all by yourself?” Virgil found his voice off-putting in the silence, but he kept speaking. “That’s hard. And you hid in the same town, in plain sight, for ages. And-”

“I ran away,” Remus said into his knees. “And I knew he’d get punished or die. He had to fight people. All goring out eyeballs and pulling out guts by the handful. Or the clawful. Depended on what kind of people were captured.”

“There are more people like you?”

He shrugged and, just like his brother, the movement made his wings move. “With the weird animal thing? Oh, sure. I would rather have a tentacle dick but you get what you get.” He spoke without humour.

Janus pressed a tiny kiss to the back of his hand, not seeming to care about the smear of dirt on it. “Darling, I’m sure you’re well enough endow-”

“No!” Virgil yelled, holding his hands up. “I have risked myself too many times today for you two to have to listen to that from you.”

Remus shrunk back further into a ball. “Sorry.”

For a moment Virgil was struck genuinely speechless. Then his brow furrowed. “Hey, no, I was just teasing.”

Janus turned to glare at him. He widened his eyes in response. Maybe he should have guessed Remus would be more delicate, but, well, it was Remus.

“Anyway, it’s okay, alright?” he attempted.

“Yeah, sure.” He lifted his head and smudged his makeup even more with the heel of his hand. “Fine.”

Virgil pulled the third sandwich out of his pocket and handed it over. “Figured you’d want that.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

Remus took it and began to carefully undo the wrapping. He took a small bite of the corner. “Mom and Dad are normal but Roman and I just were just born this way- oh there ain’t no other way,” he sang as he shimmied his wings. “But we lived in the middle of nowhere, and we stayed at home our whole lives, even though we talked a lot about hiding ourselves so that we could move. We kept ourselves to ourselves and we had a farm.” He threw his crust to the forest floor, seemingly by habit of having his flock around him. “Hope they didn’t search there for me; that would suck. Our parents saw us get captured, so at least they know what happened.”

Janus nodded as he listened. “How long ago was that?”

“Two years.” He stuffed the rest of the sandwich into his mouth.

“Goodness,” he said softly. “I can’t imagine.”

The corners of Remus’ moustache twitched up into a smile. “Nah, you couldn’t. Thanks,” he said through the remains of his sandwich.

Virgil waited for him to finish eating.

“We brought Loki with us, in the bag,” he said. “We figured it would be a good cover, and we can hold the funeral here.” He reached into the bag to pull out a trowel. They definitely hadn’t had one in the cafe, so Janus must have stored it there after Remus disappeared.

Janus reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and drew out a bag of classic Lays. He handed them over to Remus. “I do hope the flavour’s alright. I think it’s a classic.”

“Perfect,” he muttered. He stumbled up to his feet with a wince, holding his wings out for balance. Even without them fully spread out, the wingspan blocked the entire section of tree behind him. He rolled his shoulders back and flapped his wings.

Both of them stared.

Remus grinned and widened his eyes. “I can fly, you know. I could shit on you midair like-” All at once, his face crumpled and he held a hand up to his mouth. “Sorry, it all hit me again,” he said with a voice like sandpaper.

Virgil put his hoodie sleeve over his mouth as he swallowed back a guilty laugh. He started digging into the soft forest soil to distract himself.

He heard a flutter of feathers- had he been missing that under the whisper of all Remus’ shifting clothes before? - and then sobbing into a suit jacket. It was kind of scratchy on your face, Virgil knew, but it hid tears pretty well. He moved his whole shoulder into his digging, watching a depression form as the other two murmured words of upset and comfort to each other.

“I thought it was you,” whispered Janus against the shell of Remus’ ear. “And- my heart just stopped.”

“I wish it was.” Remus leant his forehead against Janus’ chest.

“But then how would I hold you, hm?” he replied, and there was the brush of fabric on fabric. “We’ll get him out.”

“You promise?” Remus said, and Virgil’s hand clenched around the handle. It wasn’t a good idea to-

“Promise. Split my chest open with a pickaxe and hope to pickle my heart.”

There was a wet laugh. “Kinky.”

“Come now, that was romance as well as kink.” His best friend’s voice was unbearably soft.

A warm feeling settled in Virgil’s chest despite the chill of the weather. Dammit. He stabbed the trowel into the ground again, ignoring the wetness in his own eyes.

He kept digging, until a set of feathers nudged into his face. “Did you poke me from all the way over there?” Virgil asked incredulously. Remus’ wing was as wide as he was tall, and he used it to poke him in the cheek again. It was a little disconcerting to see how much it moved like, well, a limb of his.

A feather brushed over the tears on his cheek. The wing retracted, and Remus came over to kneel by him and take the trowel. He sunk it into the ground, gouging out a huge section of earth with a small battle-cry. He flung it over his shoulder rather than adding to Virgil’s careful pile and then grinned at him.

A smile tugged at his mouth as he reached for the bag. “I think you finished the grave.”

He carefully wrapped the pigeon in the canvas bag Janus had chosen for her and handed it to Remus.

He looked at the little bundle in his hands for a long moment. Then he took her out of the bag. He began to unwind the plastic wrap.

Janus winced.

“That’s not clean-” Virgil whispered.

“It’s going to pollute the forest otherwise,” he replied without looking away from the corpse in his hands. “This is more natural. Besides, they’re pretty clean birds.”

So they watched in silence as he carefully took it all off and placed her in the grave. She was still intact, though her body had stiffened. “Thanks for being here, even if you were technically using her to stalk me,” he said. “Um, this was Loki. She was mischievous, and bold, and really smart. I’m going to miss her.” He cleared his throat and nodded, eyes wet. “Okay. Ready.”

Virgil scooped a handful of dirt with his trowel and scattered it over her. It pattered softly against the earth. Remus was staring hard into the distance. A few rays of sun poked through the trees as he pushed the rest of the dirt back into place. “Should we leave some rocks or something?”

Janus nodded. “I can collect-”

“I thought Roman was dead until a few days ago,” Remus interrupted. It sounded like a statement from a scratchy vinyl recording. “Ghosties are easier to carry around than big living brothers who got jacked from murder. Whatever you need me to do to get him out, I’ll do it. Killing, going back- whatever.”

“I don’t need you to do those things,” Janus said firmly. “All I need you to do now is come to my apartment,” he turned to his friend. “I’m not putting you in any further danger, Virgil-”

“Bullshit.”

He paused, brow furrowing. “Beg pardon?”

“That’s bullshit,” he repeated. “This is the part where you’re you’re going to think you’re being really smart about everything,” he held his hands up, “but you stick to your principles too much and you risk yourself and maybe those two-”

“Thank you for your confidence, Virgil,” he said acidicly.

“Anyway.” This was a spectacularly bad idea. “I’m helping.”

Defensive, his voice grew more formal. “If this is about the court cases, or the job, I promise you that you owe me nothing-”

“I like you, and I like Remus, and I don’t like what’s happening.” He shrugged. “It’s not a big thing; it’s just as simple as that. Okay?”

After a moment, Janus gave a nod.

“Aw, you like me?” Remus cooed. He wiggled his shoulders and grinned, his eyes crinkling up at the corners.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Course.”

Janus gave Remus a helplessly fond smile. “Then it’s decided. I think we could all use some sleep, then we start this evening.”