#it's that silence is golden bit which is kind of a running theme / question of this volume?

[kalmeria]

reading shimanami tasogare again and tasuku describing his home life at the beginning of chapter 12 came for my fucking throat

[warmblanketwhump]

safe enough to fall

a little university-themed thing I wrote using @sicktember prompts: comfort item, sneaky temperature check, medicine, unlikely caregiver, and lightly inspired by these prompts

the grip of the winter’s cold was their constant, unrelenting companion - but sometimes, B just wished it would be a little less faithful.

It doesn’t ease in the morning, when B wakes up coughing with a cold nose and stiff limbs. It stays as B shivers through the lukewarm shower and the hurried layering of clothes over damp, goosebumped skin. It sticks to them like cling wrap on the bus, in the lecture hall, the windy walk to their next class, makes them tense their rattling jaw, and leaves them hunched over and huddled up, desperate to conserve any scrap of heat.

This was a fact of their university existence - that after the pleasant crispness of fall, their poor, scholarship-funded body was plunged into four months of frozen hell. They didn’t like to complain - after all, they were getting a free education. But no one told them how brutal their university’s winters would be, nor that dorm heating was little more than a few puffs of warm air every hour, or that regardless of how many layers they pulled on, they’d be chilled to the bone until late March.

Their final class of the week is in a drafty science lab, and they hold back a groan. The cold's not the only source of their dread - it was the thought of spending 90 minutes with their perky, overly friendly lab partner, A.

A, whose parents were well-off, well-known benefactors of their university. A, who lived in a nice house with proper heating and had the money for a warm winter coat. A, who obliviously chattered on about anything and everything. Besides that, they were just so...happy. All the time.

The can afford to be, B thought miserably. There was no way all that sunshine could be real.

B really tried to tamp down their bitterness, but it was hard to listen to someone gush on about their amazing weekend their family spent on some tropical island when B spent the same weekend wrapped up in blankets, trying to stay warm enough to study their nomenclature notes.

Two minutes before class, A bounds into the lab like a freed golden retriever and begins their usual volley of caffeinated questions, which B responds to in short, clipped answers. Suddenly, the questions stop and A’s brows furrow.

“You look cold. Are you okay?”

B shifts on their stool and tucks their fingers into the sleeves of their worn secondhand coat, pulling it tighter with a shudder. “I am cold. It’s winter.” They cough weakly into their elbow - the nagging cough has gripped them for weeks now.

“Are you sick?”

Direct, then. That was new. “No. At least, I don’t think so. I don’t have a fever or anything.” In truth, they had been feeling a little lower than usual the past couple of days, the chill a little deeper, the aches more pronounced, the cough a bit more painful. But in their book, that was hardly enough call themselves sick. B sniffles and A opens their mouth to comment further, but the professor calls the class to attention, and the moment is gone.

90 minutes later, they’ve got their work cut out for them - a ten-page lab report that’s going to count for nearly a quarter of their final grade. And as luck would have it, it was a partner project, which meant B got to spend more time with the equivalent of human rocket fuel.

“So...do you want to just knock this out tonight?” A's eyes dart around nervously.

B frowns - it’s almost the weekend, and they figured A would have plans with friends this evening. But B sure doesn’t have anything going on., so they don’t protest. “No… I s’pose we should get as much done as possible while it’s still fresh. Want to go to the library?”

“Ugh." A cringes. "Do we have to? That place is like a tomb.”

B huffs indignantly. “It's not that bad," they mumble in a weak defense of their favorite study spot. A shoots them a glare, and B rolls their eyes. "Do you have somewhere better? It's Friday, so most places are closing up.”

“Well, my parents decided to go on some last-minute ski trip to the Alps again, so my place is free," A says as they step out into the biting wind. "Plus, I have a ton of food and it's actually warm in there, unlike these buildings.”

The promise of decent heating and food that wasn't from the dining hall was enough for B. "Fine. Your place." The pair trudge through the bitter wind as the sun begins to set, and soon they arrive at A's parents’ home - a beautiful, winding estate just a couple minutes away from campus. B has to bite their lip to keep their jaw off the ground - in the blustering snow, this place looks straight out of a Christmas card. Another reminder of how they don’t fit in this world.

Will you stop? B chastises themselves. A having money isn't a personal attack on you. Just enjoy the free food, finish the assignment and get over it.

Despite the towering exterior, B's house was quite cozy, colored in warm neutrals and filled with soft, comfortable furniture. Just past the mudroom, they spot a big living room filled with with an enormous overstuffed couch, squashy-looking pillows, and soft throw blankets. Everything about this place screams warm. A rubs their arms, suddenly aware of how cold they are. The heat nearly makes them dizzy, and they can feel the temperature difference as it seeps into their cold skin.

"Want some cocoa?" A tosses their bag into the corner and heads for an electric kettle in the kitchen, and B follows. "It always helps me warm up." B nods. A couple minutes later, A pushes over a steaming mug with the top entirely covered in marshmallows.

B wraps their chilled fingers around the mug and takes a sip, and the warm, rich liquid feels like heaven to their cold body. "That's amazing."

A smiles. "It's the good stuff." They sip in a surprising silence for a few moments, before A sighs in resignation. "As much as I wish this was just a social call, this report isn't gonna write itself." They grab a bag of popcorn and nod their head toward the living room, and B follows dutifully. A flicks on the gas fireplace and tosses B a throw blanket, and the pair gets to work.

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

After a couple hours of studying, three instances of indignantly thrown popcorn, and a dramatic reading of the periodic table, B realized that they may have misjudged A. Deep down, under the bubbly exterior, A was a genuinely kind, sweet person. It wasn't an act - they just were human sunshine. And the longer they spent time with them, the more B realized they didn't mind their company at all.

"Alright." A drops their pencil and rubs their eyes. "If I have to balance one more equation, my brain's gonna explode. Study break time." A flips on the TV and puts the volume on low.

B leans their head back on the couch and pulls their throw blanket to their chin, trying to ward off the shivery feeling in their core. Despite the heat of the fire, the mug of hot chocolate, and the thick blanket, they just can’t seem to get warm.

Their face feels hot, but their blood feels chilled and heavy, the weight of it making them ache deep down in their bones. B wraps their arms around their knees, trying to rub away the throbbing pain and get some warmth into their skin. They glance out the picture window at the now-blowing snow. It's gonna be a miserable walk home.

"B, you're shivering." A's turning to look at them now.

B startles. "It's-It's nothing. Just a chill." The concern in A's voice triggers their flight response. "I....I should probably get back to the dorms. It’s late–" They're cut off with a hacking cough that leaves them breathless and they wince at the ache in their chest.

"B, it's snowing, and you haven't even had dinner-"

"Where's my jacket?" They push themselves up and toss the throw blanket off, instantly regretting it as the air invades their pocket of hard fought warmth. They’re trembling and dizzy and desperately freezing, but they cannot stay here. Then, the world tilts and they fall back on to the couch. For a moment, they're just laying in an icy, spinning world, trying to catch their breath, when warmth suddenly envelops them.

A's tucking the same thick grey blanket around their shivering form. As they pull away, their hand lightly brushes over B's neck, then freezes. B twists away from the gentle touch, but it’s too late. Realization floods over A's face. Caught. "You lied. You are sick."

B groans, even as their fingers weave into the chunky knit and pull the warm layer closer. "A, please. Just let me go home. I'm probably contagious. You don't want me here."

"B, you look like death warmed over. I'm not sending you out in a blizzard when you're feverish like this. I won't do it." There's a spark in their eyes and a set to A's jaw that dares B to challenge them.

B leans back, defeated. Even though they want nothing more than to run out of this room, they're too weak to stand and too cold to move. So here they'll stay.

It's okay. Someone's here. You can give in now.

No. I can't. I can't let them see me like this.

What choice do you have? You already look awful. Let them help you.

A covers them with another blanket and places a gentle hand on their back, rubbing slowly. The firelight flickers, casting light and shadow across their solemn face. “B. Tell me what you're feeling, and I'll get you what you need.”

B swallows down the rising panic, the helpless vulnerability they feel, and takes a shallow, shaky breath. “I…I guess I just feel….not right. I’m always cold...but it's...worse.” They sniffle weakly, trying to still and order their swirling thoughts. “Chills, fever, cough, sore throat, kinda stuffed up. And it just hurts everywhere.”

A nods slowly, then leaves the room. They return in a few minutes with a few small bottles, carefully scanning the labels and holding them up for B to see.

“Can you take this? Any problems with this one?” B had to take a moment and match the brand names with their usual knockoff brands, but soon they had a couple over the counter medicines picked out, along with something for their cough.

A glances at the medicine labels once more. "This one says to take with food. I've got some leftover chicken and dumpling soup I can heat up - does that sound okay?"

B nods almost imperceptibly. "Sounds wonderful." A gets up to heat the soup, and B feels the anxiety rising in their stomach when they're not in the room with them. A returns with a mug and manages to gently spoon a few sips of broth into B's mouth before B starts falling asleep, clutching the grey blanket even tighter to their shoulders.

A smiles sadly. “That blanket's my favorite whenever I'm not feeling good. It's the best thing you could have to fight off what you’ve got. Trust me.”

B curls into the soft fabric. It was as if the warm environment of the apartment and the comfort of the blanket had been a signal that it was safe to leave survival mode, rest for a moment, open the floodgates that had been holding back whatever had been ailing them for weeks.

After B takes their medicine, A’s eyes shift awkwardly around the room. “So….when you’re sick, do you like having someone with you? Or do you want to be by yourself?”

A sudden rush of emotion crashes over B. They’d so rarely had the choice. It takes all they’ve got not to throw themselves around A and beg them not to leave. “Stay, please,” they ask in a small, trembling voice. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

A smiles halfway and gently pats B’s leg. “Seeing as how I live here, I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” They take their spot at the end of the couch and pull B’s legs over their own, flicking the TV to a familiar movie. B tries to keep up with the plot, but they keep falling in and out of a fitful, restless sleep, tossing, turning, unable to get comfortable enough.

When B’s about ready to cry from exhaustion, A’s there, covering them up with another blanket, bringing them a glass of water, gently stroking the damp hair off their forehead before laying a cold cloth over it. They flinch at first, but the cool dampness eases the fire of their fever, even for just a moment. The last thing B remembers before falling unconscious is a gentle hand squeezing theirs.

It could be minutes or hours later when they jolt awake from a fever dream in a cold sweat, choking and coughing. They’ve kicked off their blankets and the cloth is nowhere to be found, but the chills are back in full force. A appears in B’s blurred vision, hand held to B’s forehead. “Poor thing. Your fever’s worse,” they murmur.

B’s still gasping for breath, curled up in the fetal position, body wracked by the shakes as they try force the words through their chattering teeth. “A...It's so cold. I’m so scared.”

If B was more lucid, they’d see something in A’s eyes crack wide open at their weak, fearful cries. A pulls the trusted grey blanket from the floor and wraps it back around B, rubbing their arms to try and make them feel warmer. There's something in the tenderness of the gesture, and B’s panicked gasps turn into soft, quiet sobs. They try and cover their face with one hand, but A’s hand is there, catching their wrist and wiping the tears away with their thumb.

“Hey. You’re gonna be okay. We just gotta get through tonight, alright?” A’s voice matches their usual cheery demeanor, but B can see the fear in their own eyes. They don’t know what they’re doing either.

“Why are you helping me?” B whispers in a tear-roughened voice.

A shrugs. "You're sick. You need help. Is it that so surprising?"

B's eyes flash a delirious spark. "You don't get it. I'm a broke scholarship student. I'm nothing like you. I'm not fun, or bubbly, or rich, or any of those things you are, and I don't fit in here. So why?"

B can't stop the words now, every single insecurity laid bare. "Why do you try to talk to me when I'm nothing but rude to you? Why'd you invite me here? Am I just a project to you? Why are you helping me? I'm not worth it!" The words spill out before B can stop them, and the raw hurt in A's eyes nearly rips B's heart out of their chest.

B claps their hand over their mouth, tears flooding their eyes. Now they've done it. They've laid it all out there. A's gonna kick them to the curb. And B won't blame them one bit.

But instead, A just looks at them, and pulls B into a hug. Their voice wavers only a bit as they whisper in B's ear: "You're not a project. You are completely worth being cared for. And you’re not the only one who knows what it feels like to not fit somewhere. Trust me.”

Alone. In a big, empty house. Studying on a Friday night. No plans of their own.

A, are you lonely, too?

Their words are so simple.

And yet they're everything B didn't know they needed to hear. A's got one arm around their shoulders, and one hand threaded through their sweaty, fever-damp hair, and they're cradling B so tightly it’s like they're the one who needs to be held.

B can't find the words to apologize or comfort them back. They're too tired for that. But they wrap their other arm around A and let their head rest on their shoulder. They stay like that for ages until their head begins to drop, and A shifts so they’re both laying down, B curled against A, A’s arm wrapped around their shoulders as they tuck a blanket around them both.

And finally, finally, B lets go. It's safe to fall, this time around. Because for the first time, there's someone there to catch them.

[theredsuzuran]

Douma x reader - Innocence

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Took me a long time to upload a new content am so sorry for the delay I was really busy with school assignments therefore I cannot manage the time to write. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors on my behalf, I hope you enjoy.

Warning : Dark themes like gore, blood and violence, degradation and swearing, mature content.

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The moon shone brightly above the sky as it's light leak through the branches illuminating the famous building of the eternal paradise cult. A new set of followers rushed into the dwelling in hopes of fulfilling their selfish desires, diminishing their agonies and enriching their possessions. However a particular human with her tattered kimono seem not to be interested to convey anything although the people around her would die to witness even a glimpse of the charismatic leader as for now she was busy running along the wide long corridors

The sound of thumping footsteps echoed throughout the building as a herd of followers attempted on catching the miscreant who disrupted the peaceful atmosphere prevailing over the supreme cult. The already annoyed and frustrated people were all worked up to catch the energetic human who on the other hand have thoughts of escaping this place they called paradise. If only she was careful enough to notice her mother's strange behavior soon as they entered the place but how can you possibly blame an innocent little girl like her, or so she thought. Afraid she might lose sight of her treacherous mother who abandoned her just moments ago she desparety stumbled her way out although that didn't concerned her simple thinking process but that's exactly how complicated the situation was.

Turning one last time to look behind if those weird people were still following her or not when suddenly she bumped into a Tall muscular figure standing infront of her soft delicate frame she must have missed him approaching while focusing on looking behind. "Please just leave me alone!" The girl fumed coherently still overwhelmed by the amount of people rushing towards her like waves something that she was not accustomed with as for eighteen years she lived indoors interacting rarely with anyone and playing with dolls most of the time.

"Watch your tongue brat" one of the men standing beside the tall man spoke with disgust hinted in his voice. "Crouch down you insolent woman, where's your gratitude it's because of lord Douma's benevolence that you are still here or you'd be rotting in the street thanks to your mother", the people around her started whispering and murmuring behind her back but she was not bother since her senses were filled with newfound wrath how dare they insult your angel like mother? No longer able to contain your anger you shouted with tears "Then take me to my mother, I don't want to stay here alone".

"Your mother abandoned you here so shut up and deal with it, now move your way for master" the man grunted irritatedly motioning the other followers to grab her and take her away.

"No don't touch me" she wiggled under their grip rushing towards douma blocking him from entering the room by grabbing his arm tightly "I am not going anywhere until I know where my mother is" she cried loudly making the demon flinch with surprise, how pitiful the creature looked in his polychromatic eyes. He have seen many humans crying before him for obvious reasons which honestly have become his monotonous routine but somehow this girl acted quite weird being her age, interesting him enough to investigate. As he was about to speak the man beside him pushed the girl hashly making her lose her balance and fall on the wooden floor.

"How dare you touch master with your filthy hands bitch" he lift his hand to slap her tight in the face but someone grabbed his wrist just in time to save the girl from further humiliation.

"Silence" all the questioning glances, judging looks and whispering stopped at once as douma spoke nonchalantly making the latter shiver in regret.

"I am sorry douma sama" the man uttered in pure horror having no intentions to displease his beloved lord. "I was-"

"I don't want to see that happen again, understood?" He replied coldly still maintaining his wide smile as the previous chaos shifted into complete hush. The man lowered his head down with shame nodding silently. Douma averted his attention and glanced at the figure underneath making the girl jolt a bit but his once frightening demeanor changed into a cheerful and optimistic one in matter of second upon seeing her.

"Please take her to my chamber and treat her wounds" the man clapped with a wide grin plastered on his face. A group of female servants came rushing to help picking her up. The girl being too bewildered did not protested and simply follow his tone as if she was hypnotized by his neatly decorated persona.

The girl was immediately taken away without delay and as per douma he needed to attend his cult duties. First of all she was washed and changed into a beautiful kimono as soon as she stepped inside, then she was escorted into a room filled with antiques and lavish items which she have never seen. Her face lit up with fascination as she began venturing those decorative pieces.

"Looks like you have ease down a bit, good good" A familiar tone struck in her ears startling her a bit only to turn back and view the handsome cult leader although it was a bit strange because she did not heard anyone approaching.

"Aww did I scared you?" He laughed covering his face with golden fans.

"No I was just- you came in without a warning, I was taken aback" she explained blushing trying her best not to act immature to which douma laughed uncontrollably as he found this human's expression adorable say entertaining in his words.

"D-dont laugh at me" she pouted crossing her arms in the attempt.

"I am sorry (y/n), you really amuse me" he replied still grinning. However there was a moment of awkward silence between them as he uttered her name abruptly.

"I didn't tell you my name.." after a long pause she replied to him with a confuse look in her face.

"I know everyone's name who are living under my supervision including yours besides what kind of cult leader I am if I don't have basic information about my fellow followers. Oh look I have been talking to you without giving the chance to let you talk my bad" he laughed again waving his fans creating another awkward situation. Causing you to sweatdrop on his remark.

"Say (y/n) how old are you?" to which she replied enthusiastically "I am 8 years old and will turn 9 soon"

"Ah you don't look like one" douma grinned closing his eyes in the process.

"Yeah I get that a lot" she remarked shyly.

"Your mother is one of my followers" he continued

"Really?" her eyes sparked with hope as she approached douma with anticipation grabbing his arms for the second time starling him, she really like holding hands eh? he have experiences like that but somehow this girl made him feel different so he allowed her but then she stopped halfway through her words "I really miss her it's been a week since she left me here" her voice dropped with sadness.

Douma felt no sympathy for humans or anything as such, he have learned to fake his emotions from a very tender age eversince he was born to the extent that even seeing his mother killing her husband mercilessly failed to evoke feelings within. He clearly did not understand what she was feeling he just stared at her with a blank expression only to replace it quickly with a grim look even faking few tears. "(Y/n) chan you know its okay you will still have me" he patted the girl in an attempt to comfort her.

"Friends?" (Y/n) replied between her tears.

"If that's how you want us to be" douma smiled at her gently shocking himself for a second because he didn't think of smiling?

Things escalated soon after that incident, (y/n) was a kind and compassionate person from inside and out and in not time the cult followers started loving her presence. As often douma would let her accompany him and most of the time she stayed by his side following him everywhere and he didn't mind that at all moreover he appreciated her company. (Y/n) was like a fresh bud to him who depicted innocence and purity he loved spoiling her with expensive gifts yet she never showed signs of greediness and genuinely appreciated his thoughtfulness slowly forgetting the past life she was in and cherishing her friendship with douma. At first she was reluctant and didn't like getting so much attention but in the course of time she bonded better with everyone and was quite content with the life she was leading. As for douma he began to depend on (y/n) to the point that not seeing her face for even one day would make him go insane and he didn't understand why not like he want to because all he cared about was how she made him feel so many varieties of pleasant emotions he wish he could feel. Eating her was out of context.

However all good things must come to an end for he is someone to not rest in peace after the sin he have committed for centuries. Seeing douma paying her more attention, spoiling her with a ravish lifestyle and even letting her stay by his side all the time made some of his cult members terribly envious they wanted to punish her for taking their chances of stealing the spotlight. There was this one room that he forbade his followers to enter for obvious reasons and specifically for (y/n) because he didn't want to repeat the same mistake. This was exactly what they wanted (y/n) to do break the rules and Douma's trust. Like that there would be no more favouritism on her with others.

"Ah (y/n), there you are" one of the female member approached her one fine morning.

"Yes how may I help you?" She asked cheerfully

"Lord douma have asked for your presence in the forbidden room tonight and he said its urgent"

"Aren't we all prohibited to go inside"

"Oh (y/n) it's true master have arrived today and he wants your presence"

Upon hearing that news her heart elated with happiness, it has been two weeks since he last saw douma around and she missed him but something felt off about the whole situation douma always sees (y/n) first before tending his followers then why did he not come meet her did he not miss her like she did?

She was lost in her thoughts until she found two hands waving and snapping infort of her face.

"Don't be late, okay?" With that said the female hurried back into other room leaving (y/n) behind even though the situation seem kinda odd maybe douma was busy afterall.

At night (y/n) went into the restricted area. She stood infront of the shoji door in absolute dilemma debating whether or not to enter the room or go back. There was her desire of meeting douma on one hand and not breaking his trust by entering the room on the other. In the end she decided not to but as she was turning back she heard someone grunting in pain behind the closed doors being a compassionate person, she decided to open the door and enter into the darkness adjusting her eyes in the process, a pungent smell hit her nostrils making her cover her mouth and to her absolute terror the scene infront of her made her puke in disgust.

A pile of Mutilated bodies, mostly women laid around lifelessly on the blood stained tatami mattress. Many having no limbs, some headless and organs missing from their body as if someone had ate all of that. The whole room was a mess full of unfortunate people. She felt sick and began crawling down her way back from the corpses. However she felt a tight grip on her left foot upon looking down she witness the sight of a woman her intestines oozing out of her stomach begging for help. (Y/n) stood there perplexed unable to say anything chocking through tears.

"I told you not to come here, why?" (Y/n) turned her head violently to see douma standing in a distance his countenance cold and sinister evident that he was highly displeased upon seeing his innocent flower disobeying his instructions.

"It's not... like... what you see" (y/n) cried fearfully but douma didn't seem to buy it well in a blink of an eye she found herself in Douma's arms as he aggressively dragged her out of the room.

"What's going on douma" no word came out from the usual lively douma.

"It's hurting me your grip" no reply again to which she forcefully tried to stand still with all her strength. This time douma stopped his features hidden under his bangs making her unable to figure the expression he was carrying.

"Is this why douma forbade us to enter the room" no reply

"Are you responsible for murdering those innocent people?" No reply

"DOUMA" she shouted

"Why you want to join them?" Douma finally looked at her his eyes glowing dangerously proving his existence to be something unnatural. (Y/n's) eyes widen at his remarks as tears rolled down her visage.

"I hate you.." she murmured

"What?" He tilted his head letting his guard down a bit at her hurtful comments.

"I HATE YOU" she pushed douma roughly and flew from the place running deep into the forest for she knew who he was and what he is capable of doing. Tearing down she constantly reminisce the moments she shared but she cannot allow herself to sympathize his heinous crimes. Why is it that the people I love are always taken away from me? She thought. Exhausted from running she halted in order to catch her breath while glancing back to see if he was following, there was no one indeed so a sudden feeling of relief gushed in her body. However turning her head back she saw him standing inches apart from her face which made her shiver and fall onto the knees.

"Why are you running away from me (y/n)" he said apatheticly his head lowered at her level. She did not reply and stayed quite.

"Is it true that you don't love me after all the things I did for you?" Covering his face with one hand his eyes glowing under the moonlight a look of dejection written on his face. There was complete silence in the forest except the sound of rustling trees.

"Answer me" holding her face now firmly he growled making her flinch under his breath. In one last desperate attempt (y/n) tried to stab douma with a tree branch she found laying on the ground but unfortunately douma was faster and easily dodged the attack and in a swift motion he hit her with immense strength causing her fragile little body to tremble in pain as she coughed mucus mixed with blood.

"How foolish of you" he crouched down her height staring intensely at the quivering figure of the miserable girl. As for (y/n) her body ached but more was the tightness in the chest that she was experiencing in the moment.

He pulled her by the hair roughly making her scream in pain although at this point all she could manage with her cracking voice were inaudible screams.

"Why did you disobey me? (Y/n)..." who knew beneath that friendly kind face was hiding a undeniably deadly and calculative demon and at this point it was clear for her that he was anything but human.

"Who are you?" these few words manage to escape from her shaky lips in between low grunts.

"I am the leader of the eternal paradise cult"

"Wrong" to which he tightened his grip making her shriek again.

"You humans are so dumb believing in the existence of primordial deities where in reality its just a myth, a fairytale, created for pleasuring the sufferings of mere human. Being superior than you mortals I wanted to make these pitiful existence happy and that's why I was born and what you saw there" his lips curved into a cheeky smile revealing his deadly fangs creeping the shit out of the already scared girl. "I eat them so that they can always be with me and attain salvation" a sinister laughter escape from his mouth as he covered it with his golden fans. (Y/n) unable to process the new sets of information knots formed in her stomach making her sick in the guts.

"I ate your mother too, oh she was ungrateful after all the things I did to her just like you" protruding her eyes with pure shock she felt her veins popping out and blood boiling in pure rage.

"You are a monster, you think your stupid morals would persuade people to think like you do, I despise you douma I thought we were friends and you took away the one I cherished the most?"

"You think your mother loved you?" Douma snapped. The duality of this was man was insane, all the things he does or says are plastic.

"She never cared for your life, you want to know why? I will tell you since you insist" douma dragged her out of forest holding a fistful of her hair tightly inflicting great discomfort to the girl while he continued with his harsh statements and deliberate insults.

"You were just a burden, behaving like a fucking child with the alluring body of yours"

"No my mother promised me..she would protect me.. you are lying"

"While you were crying everyday inside my shrine that lowly woman enjoyed her life indulging in adultery with various cult members leaving her sick husband and mentally retarded daughter in the dark" every word he uttered spread vemon into her ears.

"Still she wanted more and more and more, what a greedy whore" douma continued.

"Do you know how much difficult it was for me to control myself around you? While you sway your hips and act innocently making those hungry men lust over you, how much dumb can you be?"

"What do you mean I don't understand.. douma"

"I did everything I can for you yet you remain ungrateful, disrespectful? Well guess its runs in your blood and I thought you are innocent but it turns out that you are just like the rest of them, naive"

Her eyes widened with every hurtful remarks he made about her and she did not understand why she felt that way shouldn't she be resentful towards him for killing her beloved mother but here she is weeping constantly because douma was treating her like he never did before.

"But that's fine (y/n) I can not bring myself to hurt you I love you and we shall always be together whether you like it or not" nothing reached in her ears anymore as her body grew numb. Her eyes shut as she carried the unbearable pain in her heart slowly loosing consciousness and remaining sanity.

It would have been easier if she died but alas a mere human like her is doomed at his mercy.

[sunshinecrashed]

Actually uh... perhaps #46 with aged up Hanakow it reader, like somehow he turned Human and it’s been like 10 years. Or maybe y’all both get killed and you’re like “wow Hanako, now we’re ghost again because you just HAD to stop at Dunkin and then we crashed the car cause you were choking smh” I would be very much appreciate (love your writing btw!)

ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢs

𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗄𝗈-𝗄𝗎𝗇 (𝗒𝗎𝗀𝗂 𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖾) 𝗑 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 (𝖺𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉, 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌)

𝟧𝟢 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗍𝗌, #𝟦𝟨. “𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀/𝗌𝖾𝗑”

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗸𝗼 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀.

word count: ~1.3k?

↳ warnings: [almost] getting into a car accident, slight angst, suggestive themes

a/n: once again, thank u for being patient, lovely <3 🥺 this was kind of a mess 👁👁

Ten, whole years since you made a contract with Hanako, or Amane as you now call him, and agreed to split half of your soul with him. 

At first, he was.. very against the idea of you splitting your soul with him. To go through with such a heavy contract... you would be agreeing to cutting your own life span several years short, as a result of donating them to someone else. 

It took a lot of convincing to even begin to sway Amane. But you fondly remember telling him; “If there is one thing that I am sure about, it’s that I want you to be able to live the life that you’ve always wanted. You don’t have to be alone.” 

After your fair share of crying, comforting, laughing, kissing and more... ten years have passed. 

And here you are now. 

In the Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot. 

“Oh god,” Amane moaned. 

“These are even better when they’re freshly baked.” He took another bite of his donut and closed his eyes with an “mmm”. 

You and Amane have been doing various activities to celebrate his ‘rebirth-day’, as you called it. Pulling an all-nighter was hardly an uncommon occurrence. 

“See? I told you‒ the ‘Golden Window’ for the fresh donuts are between 10:00 at night and 4:00 in the morning!” You reclined your seat slightly backwards to stretch your arms out with a yawn. 

Glancing at your watch with relaxed eyes, you said, “And now, it’s abouuut... 5:45 am. I’m surprised they even served us.” 

A fond smirk was exchanged between you two. 

“The cashier looked like he was going to smack us upright with that metal tray.” Amane mused. 

You dug around in the paper bag for yet, another donut. “Well, can you blame him? Two sleep-deprived morons waiting for him to unlock the door fifteen minutes before opening? The sun won’t even rise for another hour.” you snickered.

“He’s gonna have to get used to that pretty quickly, since we’ll be seeing him more often. I wonder if he’ll remember our names.” 

Laughing, you pressed a swift kiss to Amane’s cheek. “Let’s hurry, so we don’t miss the sunrise!” 

“Fine, fine.” He bit his lip, trying to hide his smile. 

Amane reached his arm across you to grab your seat belt and lock it into place. 

“Buckle up, buttercup,” He patted your thigh, laughing. 

You just rolled your eyes, a smile already dancing on your lips. 

As you both pulled out of the parking lot and onto the familiar road, the only thing on your mind was how content you were. During Amane’s first year back as a human, you were both surprised with how... smooth everything came to him. Of course, he had spent many years observing society’s growth and changes, but he was able to adapt fairly decently. 

Based on how naturally he fit back into the world, you never would have known that he was previously a ghost if you hadn’t been at his side from the beginning. 

Now that he was given half of your lifespan, he was now able to actually age alongside you.

And after ten years, he was now a little taller, a little less boyish, and a little more handsome. But his playful attitude, messy haircut, and flirtatious behavior stayed the same.

“Can you pass me another donut, [Name]?” Amane asked, flickering his eyes down to search for the bag. 

“Amane‒ eyes on the road.”

“Right, right.” 

You handed him another donut, which he promptly took a massive bite out of, and gasped in realization. “Shoot‒ Did we leave the blanket at home?” 

“....uhhh.. give me a second..” 

Twisting around in your seat, you squinted in the darkness to check for the blanket. “Hmmm.” 

“Are you sure it’s not there?” He asked, giving you a questioning look. 

“Maybe it’s in the trunk‒” 

Wait.

You paused.

Amane blinked at you. 

“THE ROAD, AMANE‒!” 

Both of you whipped your heads back towards the front, just barely swerving out of the way of a fallen tree. 

The tires screeched with Amane’s sudden movement, and you held on tightly for dear life as the car narrowly missed crashing into the side barrier. 

As you came to a rough stop, both you and Amane were frozen, processing the near-death experience you just had. 

Silence. 

With a wavering sigh, you let your shoulders drop as you tightly grasped Amane’s hand. He squeezed back, and you could feel that he was shaking just as much as you were right now. 

Neither of you had to vocalize what was running through your heads right now. 

You both were inches away death.

“A-Amane,” you started. “We should get going.” 

He was trying to find the right words to say, but all that came out was a quiet, “Y-Yeah..”

The rest of the car ride was silent, in contrast to the upbeat chatter and laughter only a few minutes before.

You hardly even registered that you had arrived at your intended destination. It was a special clearing that only you two knew about. On a cliff that overlooked a gorgeous forest, the distant city lights, and a faraway sea; this was the absolute perfect place to spend mornings and evenings if you wanted to de-stress and watch the stars. 

Amane turned the car off and unlocked the doors, making his way around to the back of the car. 

“..Hey, at least we didn’t forget the blanket at home?” He hesitantly smiled, holding up the cursed fabric that started it all, before spreading it out on the grass. 

You still said nothing as you slowly got out of the car, a million different emotions crossing your face, and then‒

Thud. 

Amane stumbled back as you threw yourself into his chest and clutched onto his hoodie as tight as you possibly could. He couldn’t hear anything come out of your mouth, but judging from the way you were shaking, you were definitely more upset then you had initially let on. 

“I-It’s okay.. listen to me‒”

“How are you still so reckless after all of these years?” You said in such a fragile voice, he wasn’t sure if he even was hearing you right. 

You refused to look him in the eyes as you tangled your fingers with his own, searching for a way to anchor yourself. 

“Amane, you’re not a ghost anymore.. you’re not immortal anymore. So why do you still act like you are, after all of these years?” your voice wavered, threatening to crumble completely. 

Now, a different tone entered your voice.

Anger. 

“I’m asking you this one time; at least, take your own life seriously! I‒” you halted, your throat closing up with all of the emotions ripping through you. 

“‒I just.. I-I’m sorry..”

You let go of him to wipe the tears that were pricking the corners of your eyes. 

“..Hey.”

Amane cupped your face and carefully pressed a heated kiss to your lips. What he couldn’t express through words, he poured into his emotions.

“You don’t need to apologize. I’ll be more careful, okay?” 

Your hands let go of his to tangle into his hair, while his fingers traveled along the dip of your spine, making you shiver. Amane moved from your soft lips down along the juncture of your neck, before bowing down to scoop you up bridal-style. 

"W-Wait!” you yelped, taken off guard. 

“What was that?” Amane ignored you with a small smile, carrying you over to the blanket that he had set down on the grass, before placing you down as delicately as a flower. 

He relaxed right beside you, giving you a playfully expectant look. 

With a breathy laugh, you scooted in right beside him, bringing your knees up to your chest as you curled into his warm side. Amane wrapped his arm protectively around your waist as he brought the blanket up around both of your shoulders. 

Soft rays of orange and gold draped across the two of you. 

“Hey look,” you murmured. “The sun is finally coming up.” 

It’s the little things in life. Because even if it was only for a moment, everything was right where it needed to be.

And you could live with that.

[jungcity]

bane of the devil. | viii

genre: vampire!jaehyun [angst | fluff | smut]

pairings: jaehyun x female reader

words: 5.9k

warning: bane of the devil deals with themes of deaths, physical, mental, and sexual abuse as well as toxic relationships. which may be upsetting for some readers. you are advised not to continue if you feel uncomfortable to these types of plots.

“she is made of

bruises of the past,

of bullets made from flames.

she could rattle the skies

and shake the stars.

perhaps you have

missed the wolf

underneath her skin.

but she wasn’t made

to cower under your gun.

she wasn’t the hunter,

and she wasn’t the prey.

she is the enemy of the

demons who does

not deserve mercy.”

— bane of the devil, viii

A smiling Rhianon was who greeted you as you shut the door close behind you. With your heart still thundering against your chest by the little display Jaehyun had shown, you sauntered up to your own bed. Your body slightly bouncing by the impact of it on the soft mattress. The room was painted with darkness, with only Rhianon’s lamp providing the light.

“I couldn’t believe it! You really are friends with a vampire? How?” She looked so excited that she seemed to jump. Her glasses caught the glint of the lamp beside her table. Its yellow light touching half of Rhianon’s face.

You smiled shyly towards her, not bothering to light your own lamp. A thick tome rests on her bed, its pages splayed. Similar to the light of the lamp, its pages were also tinge with yellow; a sign that the book had seen better days.

“Yes. It was the most unexpected happening of my life, believe me.” Then a merry yet controlled chuckle escaped your lips. Jaehyun’s unfortunate state in front of your doorstep sinking back in your mind. “What is that?” Veering the conversation from you, you’ve decided to point your finger towards the thick book laying on her bed.

Rhianon followed your finger, until her own eyes landed on the thick tome. She grabbed and placed it on her lap. “Book of Enchantments and Magic,” she pronounced while trailing her fingers over the embossed title. “What a simple title for a powerful book.” Then she puffed a sigh.

Rhianon held the book on its edges, showing you a better view of its golden title. By the light, the cover gave off a crimson color. Dents and scratches could be found on its surface. A further sign that the book is, indeed, old.

“I didn’t know you’re interested in those kinds of books.” You smiled at her. The bookshelf located at the corner of the room must’ve been full of books about enchantments.

“Oh, I am interested. Deeply.” Rhianon ran her hand on the book’s cover, before placing it on her bedside table. “Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been devouring all of these books. I swear, I already have memorized every single one of these pages. That’s why I have poor eyesight.” She shrugged, pointing her finger at her eyes.

Suddenly, and as if meant to be brought up, you remembered Rhianon’s reason of joining the Academy. She stated it’s because of Madame. The pieces weren’t that hard to put back together. Madame is a witch. Rhianon have a whole bookshelf containing of books about magic and enchantments.

“Are you a witch?” You hadn’t meant the words to come out bluntly, but they had. Rhianon spared you an indecipherable glance. If she ever looked affronted, you would never know. She concealed her reaction to the question quite well.

“No,” she replied rather laconically. Her throat bobbed against the light. A sign that she could be lying. “Just a practitioner,” she added.

Then she carried the book towards her bookshelf, placed it between the other books and came back to her bed. A heavy aura weighed in between you. Instantly, you’ve regretted your blunt question.

“I’m sorry for asking, Rhianon. It’s not my intention to offend you.”

Rhianon blinked. This time, her face had given clear emotions. And that is a look of surprise. “No, Y/N. You’ve not offended me. It’s just that—” She bit her lower lip, before sighing.

“It’s okay! You don’t need to tell me if you aren’t comfortable,” you stated, holding up your hand as if in surrender.

“I joined to become closer to Madame,” she sighed, before laying her whole back on the bed. “I think it’s stupid. But I still believe that she would help me understand magic.” Her gaze drifted towards the ceiling.

The bed invited you to lay down, and lay down you did. “I think it’s not stupid at all. Mortals could possess magic, too.” You turned on your side and smiled at her.

Rhianon returned the smile, her eyes gleaming in the lamplight. “You think so?”

You nodded, the drowsiness pulling you down. Your eyes blinked in a languid manner. “Yes.” A yawn had escaped from your lips, but you fought it to get the question out of your mouth. “You said you joined for Madame. I now understand that it’s because of this. But, has she ever paid you any attention at all? To teach you magic?”

You truly hoped that you had not broached a sensitive topic. But your curiosity had the best of you. If ever Jaehyun’s instinctive doubts of Madame were true, the least you could do was to gather enough informations from students who had been inside this Academy longer than you were.

A flicker of sadness passed through Rhianon’s face as she turned her head towards you. By that, you already know the answer. Nonetheless, her mouth moved. “No. She said I should earn her trust, first. Which is funny, because I’ve been here for two years.”

Two years? That is a long time for someone who only joined this school for Madame’s magical teachings.

You clamped your mouth shut. The best way to earn a useful information is to listen. Specially when the person you were conversing with seemed to combust with all the suppressed words she had kept to herself.

“Two years of letting Eva break my bones. Two years of those leafy and rancid greens at the canteen. The only thing that’s stopping me from running away is the hope that she would, eventually, spare me a glance. And of course, Lucas’ smile.” She giggled like a high-school girl at the end of the sentence.

Of course. Lucas. Who wouldn’t fall for that ethereal face? Those eyes, and those luscious lips like freshly plucked cherries. Yet as you think about the good qualities of Lucas, the image of a dimpled-guy with pale complexion and eyes like the pit of the universe— so enticing, so enigmatic— couldn’t help but flash in your mind like a movie scene. The kiss that the same guy gave your head earlier sending tingling sensation all throughout your body.

“Yes. Lucas’ smile,” you repeated, with Jaehyun’s face etched on the very surface of your mind.

Rhianon started to snore, a sign that your roommate had already fallen into slumber. You whispered a silent good night before closing your eyes and joining her to dreamlands.

—

Red silk gown. Red lips. Red fingernails. Red bottoms. The crimson color seemed to overwhelm Alena’s appearance tonight. Her dark marble floors shone brightly, with the help of the prodigious chandeliers hanging on the roofs of her mansion.

This home. So expansive. So marvelous. Yet so empty. The silence was almost deafening. And Alena had never felt so alone. With a flick of her wrist, a vampire appeared from behind her. Ready to hear her words. Ready to obey.

She could feel her power threading through the most minuscule of her veins as she walked through the long table located at the very center of this separate hall. The vampire silently trailed behind her.

Everything was black; the chairs, the long table, the pillars adorning every corner of the room. Save for the crimson curtains that covers the floor-to-ceiling window panes. She darted her eyes at the chair that resembles that of a throne sitting at the very head of the table. She sat on it like how a queen would. Because in this town, she is.

“Sicheng,” she pronounced the words with enough carnality to make the boy salivate. “Pour me some wine.” And by wine she meant human blood, with a drop of honey to make it much sweeter. After all, not all human blood was as sweet as her taste buds would penchant for. Some were bitter to the taste, some doesn’t even bore any taste at all.

The man— Sicheng— gladly oblige, his lips stretching to reveal a smile. He has been extremely helpful to Alena ever since she turned him. He never once denied her orders. Be it to kill or deliver her fresh human blood, the boy oblige with reverence fit for a vampire leader.

As Alena brought the wine glass against her lips, the blood glinted in the chandelier first. She took a sip, then a moan echoed through her. Human blood is unparalleled. But she knows a particular kind of blood which out rivaled any other blood she’s ever tasted. The blood of her fiancé, Jaehyun.

Alena has lived for almost three-hundred years now. She’s tasted different bloods from sundries of species, hence she’s aware of the certain sweetness and omnipotence commixed with Jaehyun’s blood that made her wanting for more. At first she thought it was his neglect of his vampiric body and soul, yet Alena could still not pinpoint what was special in her fiancé’s blood. One thing that she was certain of, though, was the matchless power it gave her.

Jaehyun’s blood allowed her to walk under the sun unscathed. It repelled her from holy things such as the rosary and the bible. Ever since she started to drink her fiancé’s blood, she could skim through the bible and mock every verse printed on it without her fingers burning. Oh, how forlorn she’s become since Jaehyun begun to play hide-and-seek with her.

Alena’s thoughts were interrupted by the stomping of boots against her marble floors. She gathered her patience to prevent herself from burning whoever it might be. At last, the door opened, revealing Ranus, her favorite party organizer.

“My lady,” he greeted while giving Alena a bow that could almost reach the floors. “You look fantastic as always.” Ranus’ eyes shone in the chandeliers.

Alena raised a brow. Such empty pleasantries. If given the chance, all of the vampires in this useless town would certainly try to kill Alena in a blink of an eye. She wasn’t the leader all of these vacuous vampires expected her to be. Her hands were made of iron and cruelty and blood; one her father and grandfather didn’t have. And now they reside at the Athanar, where all vampires at the age of five hundred and beyond rests, leaving Alena to reign over.

“How is the preparation going on, Ranus?” If Alena’s voice would have a physical form, it surely would be a venomous snake. Born with a vampire venom circulating in her body, Alena made sure to bolster that venom to act as her defense towards those who wishes her dead.

“Smoothly as always, my lady.” Ranus kept his head down, not daring to look Alena in the eyes. To do so would be downright disrespect. One rule Alena wants her vampires to follow; never look her straight in her eyes. They don’t have the power to dare such impudence.

Only Jaehyun could look her in the eyes. And now he’s gone, hiding from her.

Alena pushed away the thoughts by standing up, her hand still holding the glass of blood. Her heels clanked against the floors. With a flick of her wrist, the curtains parted to give her a better view of the world outside. Alena’s forefathers built their mansion at the very edge of a cliff, for they wanted to look down on the people underneath their mansion’s magnificence. Mortals are vital for a vampire’s survival, but they don’t— will never— match the glory that even a fledgling has.

“And the venue?” she asked after taking the last sip of her wine. She would’ve asked for another glass if not for Ranus’ dreadful answer.

“Juana insists the venue to be at her villa, my lady.”

“Is that so?” What a surprise. Juana undermining her decisions.

It was decided that the vampire leader of this town would supervise the incoming gathering of vampires and vampire hunters alike. That means Alena would be the one to decide things, not anyone in those wretched Academy, and specially not Juana. That hag.

“Yes, my lady.”

Alena gripped the wine glass so tight it cracked on her hand. She could feel Ranus’s eyes on her back, his fear clinging onto the air. “Go and remind that witch bitch who’s in charge here.”

“At once, my lady.”

Alena could still feel Ranus’ presence behind her. He was reluctant to say something. “What is it Ranus?”

“My lady… Juana also reminds you of the thirty-fifty ratio of attendees for the gathering.”

“Ah, yes.” The wine glass finally shattered. Its shards jabbing through Alena’s palms, causing blood to flow from her flesh.

Juana insists that the attendees of the incoming gathering would only consist of thirty vampires and fifty hunters. When Alena first heard of the demand, she almost snap a vein in her temple of laughing by the incredulity of it. The witch really believed that she could overpower the vampire with twenty additional hunters.

Tonight, as she heard the same demand, the certain anger meant for the witch ignited once again in her chest. It’s too much of a disrespect for the vampires. But for the sake of everyone’s entertainment, she would agree. It’s better to let the witch thinks she has the upper hand, only to be disappointed in the end. Victory is sweeter when it’s unexpected.

“Tell her I agree.”

“My lady?”

Alena whirled and sauntered up to Ranus. She caressed the vampire’s cheek with the wounded hand that was starting to heal itself, before giving Ranus’ lips a tender kiss. The vampire stilled, his every veins shouting in fear. “You heard me. Now, go, Ranus.” With another light pat on the cheek from Alena, Ranus sprinted away from the vampire leader.

After Ranus’ departure, Alena turned her full attention to the vampire in the shadows. It’s time for the game to continue.

“Sicheng, come here.”

Alena walked back to her throne at the edge of the table. Sicheng was beside her, waiting for the orders.

“Find Jaehyun. He must attend the gathering with me.” At much as the words hurts her throat, Alena needs Jaehyun to escort him to the gathering. All of the vampires in this town knows their relationship. And if they fear Alena with her presence alone, what more when she’s with Jaehyun? The latter doesn’t realize it yet, but the strength he has in his body could overthrow even the elders at the Athanar. Much gratitude to Jaehyun’s stupidity, he doesn’t know about that yet. And Alena had no plans to apprise him of it.

“Yes, my lady.”

“He’s with a girl. If she gets in the way, kill her.”

Alena wasn’t certain if Jaehyun’s imbecility could rival itself. That could only be proven if he decides to choose a mere college girl over a vampire leader.

“I’m at your disposal, my lady.”

She once again flicked her wrist to dismiss Sicheng. He attempted to leave, but Alena’s voice echoed through the hall again, halting the vampire on his tracks.

“Be careful, you might see your mother on your sleuthing.”

Sicheng’s jaw tightened, a further reminder of the hatred he bears for his own mother. He only nodded before he disappeared from Alena’s sight.

Sicheng is the reason why Juana seeks to destroy Alena. Little did she knew, it was her son who crawled his way to Alena’s mansion, begging her to turn him. Until now, Juana believes that Alena turned her son against his will. Alena did what she had to do to save Sicheng, and now the wrath of a witch lays on her shoulders.

A poisonous smile stretched out in her lips. Alena is a god. And no mere witch— no matter how powerful she might be— could destroy her.

—

The uniform exceeded all your agitations. Not only it was uncomfortable, it was also a bit tight for your liking. The secret curves you tried to hide with baggy shirts were now displayed for everyone to see. You felt as if you were sculpted. But you could not be bothered about the uniform, for you were already standing in an open space near the Arena to listen to Eva and Lucas.

Rhianon discussed with you the importance of the Arena on the way to the open space earlier. She said, twice a year, venatrixes and venators compete to showcase their strength at the Arena. It was also directed by the Madame, herself. With few of the vampire hunters helping her hold the event.

“Alright, a pleasant morning to everyone. I hope you’re ready for today’s training.”

Everyone was silent, allowing Eva’s voice to be as clear as possible. You have decided to stand at the very end of the lane with Rhianon. But that doesn’t excuse you of the scrutinizing eyes of both venatrixes and venators alike. They looked at you as if they were already aware of the weakness residing in your bones. However, you held your chin as high as you could muster. You went here for your parents, not to please these students.

“Let us start, shall we?” Eva held her fist high, then she shouted, “Venatrix!”

All of the students around you, including Rhianon, stood rigid and pressed their fist across their chests. “Venatrix: steadfast and loyal!”

The echo of voices deafened you, but you scrambled to put your fist across your chest and shout whatever the motto was. Your tongue knotted together in a hurry to catch up and shout the motto, you could only hope that no one heard you as you tripped on your words.

“We’ve practiced and trained enough strategies in defeating a vampire in a combat. But as we have a new venatrix, we shall recall these strategies from the very beginning,” Lucas stated. His demeanor was more stout and serious than when you were only having a casual conversation with him. He does not carry the spring-like smile in him today, making his face more dangerous. The kind of danger you weren’t conscious someone such as him could possess.

The silent groans broke you out of your reverie. Clearly, the venatrixes weren’t happy about this decision. You could shrink back behind Rhianon, or you could continue to held your chin up high to pretend that their protestations doesn’t affect you at all. You did the latter. Madame needs you, and no degradation could take that advantage away from your hands.

“Y/N, it’s a pleasure. Could you please— stand here?” Lucas’ smile returned as he gestured for you to stand in the frontline. Of course, he could easily spot you with his height.

The line parted for you. Rhianon gave your hand a tight squeeze before you trekked towards Lucas. His smile never faltered as you finally took your place in the front.

Eva gave you a small smile before bellowing instructions again. “Remember your stance. You would hate to forget it. Vampires are swift creatures— but it would be an advantage that you remember how to dig your soles in the ground for more strength.” Eva raised her fist, as if to punch someone. Then she placed her right foot behind the left, her left hand resting in fist at her sides, as if she was about to uppercut someone. “This is the stance of every fighter. Y/N, could you please try it?” Eva invited you with her hand stretched out.

You gulped and did as you were told. Lucas raised your fist, while Eva nudged your left foot to separate your feet further. Her action almost made you lose your footing, but she was quick to catch your arm. Silent laughters could be heard from the throng of students, heightening your agitation. Your eyes frantically searched for Rhianon’s face in the crowd, but to no avail.

“Quiet!” Lucas shouted. At once, the laughters stopped.

“Your muscles are tensed, Y/N. Try to relax them at the point of comfort,” Eva whispered. “Make them strong but not too rigid.”

Having no idea of how to do her orders, you furrowed your brows. With that, Lucas chuckled. But your eyes caught up on the frown that was etched across Eva’s features. As your eyes met, she smiled.

“I think it’s best if we dismiss the venatrixes today? Send them to the armory to practice weapons?” Eva turned her attention to Lucas. The boy blinked but nodded his head.

“Alright, all of you, go to the armory and practice your preferred weapons,” Lucas pronounced. All of them nodded their heads before the crowd dissipated, leaving only you to Lucas’ and Eva’s graces. Rhianon gave you a small wave before following the students. You only nodded your head, for Eva’s grip on your arm didn’t allow you to wave back to your friend.

“Focus, Y/N. You need to catch up.” There was an edge to Eva’s voice now. As if the five-minutes of teaching had already drove her impatient.

“Show us your strength, Y/N. Try to punch my palms.” Lucas held up both his palms for you to attack.

Then you started to punch. Lucas held them firm. You continued to attack him with your punches. Beads of perspiration already forming on your forehead, but the black uniform seemed to sponge the sweats from your body. Leaving you feeling grimy.

“Okay, stop.” He smiled. You hunched your back and pressed your palms to your knees, trying to refocus your breathing.

“You have the strength in you, Y/N. Practice is all you need.”

Thanks to your physical education classes about boxing. You had dreaded every session of that class, never realizing that the things you had refused to learn would be useful today.

“Again,” Eva demanded. She held up her own palms, her brows knotted in concentration. You glanced at Lucas. The boy gave you one of his encouraging smiles before tapping your back.

You slightly twisted your arm to land a punch in Eva’s palms. Unlike Lucas, she moved, causing you to miss her hand by a hairsbreadth. You knotted your brows but she only smiled. So you continued to penetrate her, and she continued to move her palms to different positions, rejecting your every hit. Impatience slowly crawled on your skin, intensifying your determination and giving you more strength. Eva’s feet started to move backwards as she tried to defend herself from your attacks. Lucas silently following the both of you.

It was obvious that she’s draining you out of your energy, and perhaps she’s trying to ridicule you. A smirk was displayed across her face, widening as you mishit her palms yet again.

You fought the urge to punch her face instead. Restlessness would lead you to nothing but more troubles. You only need to hit and hit and—

Suddenly, the world seemed to whirl in different colors. The only thing you felt was the hard collision of your breaches against the hard ground, followed by the fall of your whole upper body. Red spots swam in your vision as you struggled on your feet. Albeit regaining your footing, the world continued to move around you. Firms hands held you in place, steadying you.

“Why did you do that?” Lucas asked.

It took you minutes to realize that he was asking Eva.

“We need to advance her training.” She shrugged.

You blinked a few times. When the swirling of your vision finally halted, you wiped the dust off your palms and off your uniform.

“Oh, yes? You didn’t need to punch her nose, Eva!”

Eva’s mouth was formed in a thin line. She placed her arms across her chest, her foot tapping on the ground.

“It’s okay, Lucas.” You held up your hand. No, it was not okay. You wanted to attack Eva again to regain your pride. Of all the body parts she could hit, she really decided to punch your nose instead? You waited for blood to flow from your nostrils. Thankfully, after touching the skin below your nose several times, the only liquid you could feel was your sweat.

“Do you need to go to the clinic?” Eva asked, her voice devoid of the warmth she once gave you yesterday.

Clinic, again? The offer was enticing. All you wanted to do was to go back on the bed and sleep. But to do so would mean another weakness. You refused to dwell to that same feeling again. So you shook your head.

“No.”

For hours, Lucas instructed you with different techniques. Eva dismissed herself, saying that she would look over how the venatrixes were faring with their weapons. Having Eva away gave you a little peace of mind. Lucas was gentler and more focused on magnifying your strength. He would only laugh and teach you the right ways every time you tripped over.

After hours of training, he told you to rest. Now you’re alone in the open area under the tree, munching your food.

“How’s your training?”

Your food went flying from the spoon as Jaehyun sat beside you. “Don’t startle me like that!” You pitifully looked at the food on the ground, dirt had already coated it. “Why are you here?” You snapped your head at him.

Jaehyun’s smirk faltered as he took in the condition of your face. You raised a brow. He held your chin, his face not giving away any emotions. Then he deadpanned, “Who did that to you?”

Automatically, you covered your nose with your hands, the spoon you were holding went flying to the ground as well. “Accident.” How did he manage to see the injury? You were certain that your nose still had the red tinge from yesterday’s brawl. Jaehyun shouldn’t be able to spot that you have yet obtained another fresh injury.

“Accident? On your first day of training?”

You nodded. “Yeah, earlier.”

“Then you’re dumber than I thought.”

With that, you landed a punch to his arm. His nose scrunched up as if he was in pain. “I know you weren’t hurt.” You rolled your eyes. It’s better if he doesn’t know who injured you on your first day. Eva almightily stared him down yesterday. And you know the scene didn’t settle right on Jaehyun. Best not to reveal everything to him.

“Why are you alone?”

“Lucas told me he’s going to check up on Eva and the others. You? Why are you out here in the sunlight?”  

Jaehyun leaned on the tree. “I was bored.”

“Bored? So you decided to risk your life out here in the open?”

“I can handle myself.” Then he reached his hands towards the little sunlight that had succeeded to infiltrate through the lush of the leaves.

“Jaehyun!” You tried to swat his hands away.

“Relax,” he assured you before continuing on his doing. Then it started. As the sunlight proceeded to touch Jaehyun’s skin, his flesh emitted thin layers of smoke. Faint smell of burning flesh mixed with the fresh air. You covered your nose from the stench.

“Stop that!” You wrenched his hands away from the ray of light. This time, he didn’t budge.

The back of Jaehyun’s hands continued to sizzle, but the smell was fleeting. Pinkish flesh could be seen from his scorched skin. He opened and closed his hands, as if to stretch the skin. Then the skin started to stitch itself back together until no trace of burned flesh could be seen.

“I do that some times to remind myself I’m still half-alive.”

Your eyes could not turn away from his hands. Vampires could heal themselves faster than any mortal devices could. But to witness it on your own, it still brought an unnerving feeling to settle in your bones.

“That’s…”

“Awesome?” Jaehyun raised a brow. Then he stood up, offering his hand to you. “Get up, I’ll teach you how to defend yourself better than Lucas.”

“I would say that was scary,” you teased before holding his hand to prop yourself. “Teach me your ways, your majesty.” You mockingly curtsied, earning a soft laugh from him.

“What did they teach you?”

You did Eva’s instruction from earlier. You raised your fist, the other resting on your sides. Then you stepped your one foot forward, the other digging in the ground. “This. And then Lucas taught me the correct ways to punch.”

Jaehyun pursed his lips to repressed a laugh. “Ten seconds in the battle and you’re dead.” Then he sauntered up beside you, “These are all useless. When you come face to face with a vampire, these postures won’t help you. You must study your opponent— and you could only do that if you let the vampire attack first.”  Jaehyun backwardly stepped away from you. His fingers moving, as if challenging you to a battle. “For this practice, I won’t use my swiftness,” he stated before running towards you as if to attack.

Your heart thudded in your chest. He looked ready to hurt you. So you did the one thing you could do then, you covered your head with your arms.

“Dead,” Jaehyun muttered. You waited for the impact, but none came. So you opened your eyes. His hand were splayed, inches away from your suit. “Don’t cower, Y/N. Study my attacks.”

“You’re scary,” you whispered, embarrassed to admit the words.

“I am deadly attractive, Y/N. And you say you’re scared of me. What more if you come to battle with an unattractive vampire?”

With that, you raised a brow. Vampire venom does a lot of things. If you weren’t generally attractive in your mortal life, the venom could enhance your features, sculpting your visage to that of a pleasing one once you turn into a vampire. Jaehyun must have been extremely agreeable when he was still a mortal, for his face today could rival the beauty of gods.

You shook your head, aiming for your focus. “Let’s try again.” Eva’s instructions flew away from your memory as Jaehyun attacked you yet again. He was swift, even without his power.

“Dead.” He smiled when he captured your neck. His hands once again splayed as if to chop your head off your body.

You sighed but never hesitated, so you defended yourself again and again.

“Dead,” he chuckled.

“Dead.”

“You’re dead, Y/N.”

You wiped your brow with the back of your hand, “This is frustrating!”

“C’mon! Don’t give up. Pay attention to my attacks.”

Jaehyun strike at the side of your waist, but you defended yourself by turning to avoid his hands. Then he attacked your head, you crouched as fast as you could. His knee was about to collide with your face when you pushed it away with your palms. You wheeled your body away, and attempted to punch him right in his face, where he was defenseless. But as your fist was about to strike at his cheek, he turned on his side and caught your arm. His smirk returned as he saw the realization dawning across your face.

Jaehyun’s left hand caught yours, then he pinned it behind you. While his other hand held your right. You were now immovable. Defeated.

“Dead,” he whispered, his breath fanning your cheek.

One swift move and your lips would surely collide. All your muscles stilled, the somersaulting of your heart was so loud. You fought the urge to crash your lips against his, even though it was so tempting to do so. Jaehyun has a fiancée. But the words weren’t enough to move your body away from him. It was ludicrous.

Jaehyun closed the space between the two of you, but before he could land his lips against yours, someone interrupted the both of you. His lips landed on the side of your head instead when you pulled away from him.

Lucas and Eva came into view. With the latter plastering a deep frown across her face. She was obviously unhappy of what she saw. Yet you could not be bothered by her reaction.

“I see that you’re practicing another techniques, Y/N.” Eva smiled, but there was no friendliness attached to her face.

What’s happening to her? Yesterday, she was so enthusiastic. Friendly, even.

“What do you mean?” You dared ask as you straightened your back.

Eva raised her brow, “Seduction is a weapon not all girls could wield. I admire your technique.”

“Eva–!” Lucas grabbed her arm, but she held her chin high.

Seduction? Does your position screamed seduction to her? You won’t admit it, but her words jabbed a shard on your chest. You don’t need to seduce your way to triumph.

“Eva.”

The three of you snapped your head to Jaehyun. He was standing beside you, his hands hidden in the pocket of his jeans.

“Eva, right?” When Eva nodded, Jaehyun continued, “You’re not my type.”

“Excuse me?!” Eva’s eyes widened. Lucas pursed his lips tighter. While you remained standing beside Jaehyun.

“I can hear your heart, you know. Do you want me to narrate the things that’s going on in your head? Of how you dreamt about me— even though you’ve only met me yesterday?” Jaehyun’s words were as flat as the ground underneath your feet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” She half-screamed. But you didn’t miss the bobbing of her throat nor the perspiration slowly coating her forehead. Now, you are absolutely curious about her dreams even though knowing means breaching her privacy.

“You do. And quit bitching around. You’re supposed to train Y/N, not humiliate her.”

“He’s right, Eva.” Lucas chimed in.

Eva snapped her head towards him. “Shut up!” she seethed. Then she turned her head back to Jaehyun, her eyes like fiery coals. “And you shut up, vampire.”

When Jaehyun attempted to reiterate, you held up your hand. Whatever secret he has in the back of his tongue, you won’t hear it. It would humiliate Eva further. And you didn’t want that.

“You are weak, Y/N. Weaker than what I have anticipated.”

Lucas held her arm tighter, pulling her away from you. “Shut up, Eva!”

Ice cold rage swept through your whole body. You furrowed your brows and sauntered up to face her. “What did you say?” Every last bit of patience you have for her is now clinging on a loose thread. One wrong word and you would certainly land your fist right in her face— to hell with the ramifications.

“Y/N, she didn’t mean it—”

“Oh, I meant it! I meant every word of it! You are weak and you will never be one of—”

Your palm smarted from the slap you gave her. But that wasn’t enough for the insult she’d thrown at you. You gathered a fistful of her hair and threw her to the ground. However, she regained her footing easily and landed a straight blow to your face. You staggered backward, but Jaehyun supported you upright.

“Remember what I told you,” he whispered before letting you go.

Eva ran towards you, her hands formed into fists. You raised your arms to cover your head, and you let her punch every opening to your body. Lucas attempted to pull Eva away, but Jaehyun clasped his hand around Lucas’ wrist. He mouthed ‘let them’ before nodding at you.

“You bitch!” Eva snarled.

Where did her hateful energy come from? Nevertheless, you’ve decided not to be affected. You struggled to memorize her every strike for your own advantage. And when you did succeed, an opening through her face greeted you. You landed your fist to her nose. The bones made a cracking sound, sending satisfaction all throughout your body. Eva fell on the ground. Before she could stand up, you sat on her stomach and raised your fist, ready to punch her again. But a viselike grip took hold of your wrist.

“Enough,” Jaehyun said.

You tried to catch your breath and calm your nerves. Eva still underneath you, clutching her nose. What have you done? You blinked and allowed Jaehyun to help you on your feet. Lucas aided Eva to stand up. The whole area was silent, save for your heavy breathings.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Lucas frowned, before guiding Eva away. But the woman refused to be guided by Lucas. She looked at you as if she wishes you dead.

“We’re not done, Y/N,” she warned.

A sarcastic laugh reverberated through you, “Alright, then.” Then you pinned her down with stare, “But know this, Eva, don’t you dare underestimate me again.”

[callmeelle22]

Blue Dream VI

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 8, 390

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Say Yes; The action makes her look at him again and there’s something behind the playfulness in his gaze, something that sings like there is only one for me; you have made that a possibility, like we could take that step to see, mm; if this is really gonna be, like all she’s gotta do is say yes to whatever statement his eyes are making, to whatever question his fingers are stitching into her skin. (Read chapter below or on AO3 linked on the chapter title.)

Chapter VII: Brave

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream

Say Yes

There is only one for me

You have made that a possibility

We could take that step to see, mm

If this is really gonna be

All you got to do is say yes

On the following Thursday, Iris finds herself rushing down Main St., her glittery gold pumps making a rhythmic clack-clack-clack on the sidewalk. She barely had time to change from what she’d worn to work, into a long black maxi dress printed with gold feathers all over it. The dress has long sleeves and a modest neckline, though the right side split that rises near to her waist changes what might otherwise just be a pretty casual dress. She’s late, which is why she’s risking a broken neck by running down the street in these shoes, not wanting to hear Wally bitch about being late to his 21st birthday dinner.

She finally gets to the front of Golden’s, where her dad has rented out space for the dinner and later, some music and dancing. Barry is standing outside of the restaurant, in a pair of well-fitting black pants and camel colored desert boots, tugging at the neck of the white sweater that does only good things for those broad shoulders. He looks up from his phone when he hears her heels, and the smile he gives her pulls her up short.

“Hi, beautiful” he greets as he steps out from where he’d been leaning on the wall. “You look nice."

Iris waves a hand, still trying to catch her breath. “I look like I’ve been working all day.”

She touches self-consciously at her hair, knowing that the curls from her bantu knots have likely begun to fall. But when she looks up again, the word nice isn’t actually what she sees as he’s looking at her. It’s a misnomer, the word nice, because his gaze follows the curves of her body, the way the dress’s matching tie shows the deep curve of her waist, and how every time she moves, Barry sees one long, brown leg ending in the double straps around her ankle. Iris shifts under his gaze, at his blown irises, the color of them graying by the moment.

“Come here,” he says, reaching out for her.

“What? Barry, we’re late,” she attempts to argue, even as she’s letting him pull her into his arms. She tumbles into them, letting him wrap both his arms around her as she circles hers around his waist. She can feel the warmth of his palms through the thin material of her dress.

“Breathe,” he commands softly, and she inhales deeply before letting it go. Barry loosens his hold, but only enough that he can look into her eyes.

“Let’s try that again,” he teases. “Hi, Iris, you look beautiful.”

Her stomach flutters at the comment and she bites down on her bottom lip. “Thank you, Barry.”

“How’s your day been? We haven’t talked.”

“Barry, we’re…”

“Late. Yes, I know. And maybe I’m stalling because I’m nervous to meet your entire family at your brother’s party, but I also just wanna check in.” He lifts her chin with a forefinger. “So how’s your day been?”

She thinks that she fucking melts, just like that.

“It’s been good. Really good,” she replies softly, trying to hold his tender gaze. “I didn’t have to curse any undergrads. And I, uh, well,” she hesitates for only a moment, but she wants to tell him this, even if it’s news she’s been hoarding for the moment. “Well, my blog is going to be featured on Good Morning, Central City.”

His eyes light up. “What, Iris? That’s amazing!” He wraps his arms around her again and squeezes, even pulling her off of her feet. The sound of her laughter fills the air as she tightens her hold on his neck.

He’s the first person she’s told. She’d gotten the email after lunch this afternoon, about the morning talk show featuring some of Central City’s rising internet stars. She’s never considered herself an internet star, especially because her blog focuses primarily on others, with the exception of the occasional personal story, the occasional picture with an update about her life. But they’re taping the segment in a month’s time and she’ll have a ten minute spot talking to the hosts and answering questions about What a Life You’ve Lived.

“Baby, I’m so damn proud of you.”

And he is, which isn’t so much startling as it is noteworthy. Because he’s new here, but already he’s been so supportive of her and her work, reading and asking questions all the time. It’s a rush, really, and she has to hold on to him to steady herself.

“Thank you so much, Barry. It’s exciting and scary and, humbling, in a way.”

“See,” he says, cupping her cheek in his palm. “Good.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and he takes it as an invitation to kiss her. It’s a quick kiss, compared to the way he usually kisses her, but he still leaves her light-headed from the taste and the feel of him. She hums when he pulls away, closing her eyes briefly.

“You ready?” she asks when he’s in her sight again.

“I think I am,” he replies, but she notes that he seems a little dazed too.

“Don’t be nervous,” she grins. “You already know Dad. You’ve met Linda. You’ve likely met Cecile too.”

“Yes, but it’s one thing to talk to Captain West and DA Horton for work. It’s completely different to hang out with them as the man their daughter has been seeing.”

She takes his hand to squeeze once and lets go to run her hand across his chest, picking at invisible lent on his sweater.

“It’ll be fine. Just be your weirdly charming self.”

“Weirdly charming?” His eyes widen and he stands up straighter. “How am I weirdly charming?”

Ignoring his question, she grabs his hand again. “Come on. We’re really late now.”

“But Iris…?”

Iris isn’t quite sure how she got Barry invited to this dinner. She’d gone over to her dad’s for dinner on Sunday, and they’d been talking about Wally’s party, securing some last-minute details. Out of the blue, Wally had blurted about Iris’s “new boyfriend,” though Iris figures it was a calculated move on her brother’s part. But now they’re here, walking into Golden’s hand in hand.

The place has been decorated for the party: white, black, and gold streamers everywhere, a matching balloon arch, a tall matching photo booth set up on one side. The space has been cleared so that there is one long table for the group to sit together (to include their family, Linda and Daniel, Theo and Xuan, and several of Wally’s friends from college). On the other side of the table is a wide-open space where, in about an hour, a DJ will come set up in the corner and the remaining space will act as a makeshift dance floor.

Wally is sitting in the middle of the table, a black leather crown on his head, matching his black t-shirt and blazer paired with black trousers, a gold chain circling his throat. The color theme for his birthday party is black, white, and gold, and as Iris looks around the room, she sees her family and Wally’s friends all adhering to the dress code.

“Iris,” he shouts when he spots her. “Fucking finally.” He immediately glances back at their dad with a low “sorry dad,” before standing to greet her. Iris pulls him in for a hug, wrapping her arms tight around him.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she tells him. “Happy birthday, baby.”

“Thanks, big sis.” He gives her another big squeeze and then pulls back to kiss her cheek.

Joe West, tall and imposing-looking with deep brown skin and kind eyes, shakes his head at his youngest son and stands to give Iris a hug too.

“Good to see you, pumpkin.”

He looks at Barry, who’s standing behind her, looking a little bit pink in the face, his eyes wide. She shakes her head in amusement, thinking about how he’s always so damn confident when he’s with her, but he’s looking like he wants to turn and run at the moment.

“CSI Allen,” her dad says, expression unreadable.

Barry swallows. “Captain West. It’s, uh, good to see you.”

There’s a tense silence for just a moment as her dad seems to size Barry up. But before Barry decides to actually run away, Iris rolls her eyes and lightly taps her father’s shoulder.

“Daddy, stop.”

Her dad blinks once and then his face erupts in a wide grin. “I’m just kidding. Good to see you, Allen.” He reaches out to shake Barry’s hand, clapping his shoulder.

“You too, sir,” Barry nods once, and then again. “And please just call me Barry.”

The rounds are made. Barry greets DA Horton, a pretty woman with ochre colored skin and big brown eyes, who tells him to call her Cecile when they aren’t at work. Wally is next, who gives him a long look, not unlike their father, before reaching out to hug him, whispering something in his ear that makes Barry smile faintly as he looks briefly at Iris before turning back to Wally and nodding firmly. Xuan and Theo greet him with wide smiles, and then Linda gives him a kiss on the cheek before introducing him to Daniel, a tall, sun-kissed man with near black eyes, unruly dark hair, and an easy smile.

The table is divided with family on one end and Wally’s friends on the other, with Wally sitting in the middle on one side and Iris across from him. There are a couple of waiters, Allegra is here as the bartender, and just as Barry and Iris are sitting down, the waiters bring out several plates of appetizers featured on the menu: egg rolls, steamed buns, fried pork dumplings, ginger salads, edamame, baked sticky wings. There are several plates of each, enough for everyone to have some of everything and they all dig in, taking sips of Wally’s birthday cocktail, something that’s mostly champagne, in between.

Iris watches in fascination as Barry effortlessly makes conversation with people around him. It’s not that she’s necessarily surprised; Barry is an affable sort, her dad is an extremely good judge of character, and Wally and Cecile are generally easy-going people. But seeing it in action does something so funny to her that she can’t describe it. When her dad asks how they met, he shoots her a wink and replies, “I saw her out dancing one night and I knew I had to get to know her.” Only she hears Linda’s snort, but the answer does make her shake her head (and flush a little) in remembrance.

Then Cecile wants to know, inexplicably, about their first date.

“She invited me over for dinner,” Barry explains.

“No, I…” She turns sharply to her side, narrowing her eyes at the unmitigated glee in his. He knows that if she explains how he’d just shown up (because she’d invited him over for a one-night stand anyway), they’d both be thrown under the bus.

Iris looks back at the table, at her dad who’s got an eyebrow raised, and at Wally who’s obviously trying not to laugh.

“I don’t really count that as the first date,” she responds through clenched teeth. Barry leans into her, arm draped over her shoulder, fingers playing absently with her dress’s collar.

“So do you count hanging out at Fall Fest?”

She isn’t fooled by the casual tone of his question. “You were there with your friends. You ditching them had nothing to do with me.”

He reaches out and fingers the simple gold open circle studs she’s wearing. The action makes her look at him again and there’s something behind the playfulness in his gaze, something that sings like there is only one for me; you have made that a possibility, like we could take that step to see, mm; if this is really gonna be, like all she’s gotta do is say yes to whatever statement his eyes are making, to whatever question his fingers are stitching into her skin.

“Me leaving them had everything to do with you.”

And she’s, for a second (or for a minute, or for some infinite period of time) lost in it, lost in him, forgetting that this is not a private moment, that people are watching, that the goosebumps that are gliding up her arms and the heavy rise and fall of her chest are for everyone to see.

Linda lets out a cough, a way too obvious attempt to break the tension.

“But if we’re talking about our first official date,” Barry says, holding her gaze for a second longer before turning back to her family, “we went on a picnic.”

She can’t look at them, not yet, and she saves face by turning to Linda whose own eyes are filled with mirth.

“Oh, a picnic,” Cecile squeals. “How sweet.”

“Yeah,” he replies, smiling. “It was sweet: the company and the dessert.”

She thinks of the dessert, the way he’d licked at her like she was the sweetest thing he’d ever had in his mouth; Iris has to avert her eyes from them again, lest they see her suddenly widened eyes and her speeding pulse, her legs crossing and uncrossing again.

Wally, bless his soul, takes up the conversation from there, turning it to something he’d figured out in one of his classes. Iris leans into Barry.

“You do too much,” she tells him quietly.

He nods in concedence. “You’re probably right.” Then one corner of his mouth lifts again. “But you can’t tell me you don’t like it.”

She pinches him at that and he yelps, rubbing at his arm.

“I’m gonna hurt you later,” she threatens, stretching up to whisper it in his ear.

He licks his lips, eyes blazing. “You promise?”

She punches him lightly on the arm and he responds with a kiss to her cheek.

They fall into individual conversations after that. Plates disappear and more food appears; champagne glasses are taken away or refilled. Iris eats on most of whatever’s put in front of her, but she drinks slowly since it is still a school night. She’s half-listening to Linda and Dan tell her parents about some trip that they’re interested in taking to Vietnam, where all of Dan’s grandparents still live. Her dad and Cecile are flirting a little bit, she thinks, which, weird. Still, she’s got an ear to the conversations that Barry is having. He starts off talking to Jessie, one of Wally’s friends that have been around since Wally started at CCU, about nanotechnology, something Iris has zero interest in, and they geek out about it for long enough that Iris gets bored of it. But that leads them to a conversation about which professors are still at CCU, where Barry also went for undergrad and grad, finishing both eight years ago. That tells her that Barry is about five years older than her, which Iris guesses she can see in his mannerisms, in how comfortable he is in his career and in his thoughts and even in the way he carries his body.

Wally takes Barry’s attention away from Jessie after a while. Barry moves away from Iris enough that he can focus on whatever Wally’s saying. It takes his arm from her chair but he maintains contact by planting his hand on her bare thigh, thumb rubbing against her lightly. She can only hear snippets of their conversation, words their deeper voices, though whispered, can’t hide. She hears, at one point, “I think your sister is the loveliest woman I’ve ever known, in temperament and beauty, and I’m here for as long as she’ll have me.”

She doesn’t think she was supposed to hear that,

(although, she’ll wonder later that night if, purposefully, Barry had said it loud enough for her to do so).

Still, she does, whether he meant for her to or not. And she grapples with it for a moment. Because he’s said something similar before. He’s told her that he’s whipped and that he likes her and that he wants. The reality is: she’s wondered if it were true. She knows better than anyone the power of words, how they’re used to not only tell stories, but to tell lies, to manipulate, to coerce. And of course she doesn’t think that Barry would do any of those things, but she’d thought that his words had been just...words, pretty things to make her feel good.

(Okay, so maybe that it’s really true, either. But it’s been easier to take him at face value, to pen this story based on her own feelings, not always realizing that Barry’s just as much of a character here, that his dialogue matches the action, the imagery, foreshadowing whatever it is that’s really happening here.)

So saying this to her brother, however, privately and in the seriousness she knows is accompanied by his furrowed eyebrows and pursed mouth...well, that crystalizes it for her. Her reaction, though unsurprising in its intensity (because everything about this with him has been intense), is abrupt. Her entire body seizes up with, god, feeling, with emotions she’s been, apparently, cultivating since the moment he asked her to dance. She goes hot at the same time that she physically shivers, with her own words unspoken, with feelings suddenly realized, with raw passion, with all you gotta do is say yes; don't deny what you feel, let me undress you, baby; open up your mind and just rest; i'm about to let you know, you make me so...

She silently downs the rest of her drink, looking around the room to see if anyone has noticed her eyes darting to and fro, literally on the edge of a breakdown. She takes a big breath and wonders what she should do about this inconvenient revelation.

Barry turns to her, that same soft smile on his face. But, noticing what he perceives as her solemnity, he pulls from his conversation and slides his hand up her thigh and over her hip to settle on her waist. Her skin tingles at his touch.

“You alright? You’re not talking much.”

“Yeah,” she nods, lips turning up, hoping he can’t see the slight bit of panic she’s feeling. “Yeah. You? Surviving the interrogation?”

“They haven’t thrown me out yet, so I think so.”

She gives him a quiet laugh. But then he goes a little thoughtful too, licking his lips and staring at her. He reaches out to push a lock of hair behind her ear, and then he keeps his hand on her, running along the side of her face, down until he’s holding her by the back of her neck, his thumb still rubbing along the apples of her cheeks. He doesn’t look away, blinking as if to steady her features.

“What?” she questions, a bit nervously, wondering if he can see what she’s just realized in her features. He always looks at her as if he can, as if he can read her. He doesn’t speak for a moment, then,

“You’re really pretty.”

Iris scrunches her nose a little. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I don’t know, I just… you seem kind of far in your head right now and I know that compliments always make you blink back into the moment.” He gives a small grin. “Or make you blush.”

“I’m Black,” she counters. “I don’t blush.”

“Hmm,” he hums, grin widening. “Maybe you don’t get red like me, but you blush.” He runs his thumb across her bottom lip, tracing the plump curve. “Your eyes look sort of blown and you bite this lip and,” he leans closer, speaking close to her ear, “I can practically see your breathing get deeper.”

Iris decides that it’s only because of his thumb on her mouth that she doesn’t complete each of these steps he’s outlined. Instead, she circles her hand around his wrist and gives him a frown against his thumb.

“I feel like I’m at a disadvantage here,” she reveals. “You do make me blush, just like you said, but I feel like you’re always so, so…”

She lets the sentiment taper off, not wanting to truly acknowledge that she feels like she’s the one stepping out of her comfort zone, the one hanging off the ledge. But he chuckles, the sound connoting more incredulity than humor.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Her brows furrow, briefly confused. “Bear…”

“Do you think I’m composed, Iris?”

She snaps back, not liking his tone. “Well you’re always so goddamn smug and…”

His kiss cuts her off. Somehow, he’s still mindful of the mixed company, she assumes, because it’s a kiss like earlier: with some tongue, but still quick and nothing particularly distasteful. Even still, she tries to chase after him, to deepen the kiss, because she really just can’t help it where he’s concerned. When he pulls back, he resumes running his thumb along her mouth, and she knows that her lipstick is officially fucked.

“I’m not composed, Iris,” he tells her, eyes darting across her face. He, at least, lowers his voice so that they aren’t making a scene. “I’m, literally, a fucking mess around you. I don’t know, I'm just trying to make you think I’m confident, so you don’t think I’m too boring or, or before you realize that there’s someone better out there for you.”

He holds her gaze, blue-green eyes keeping her captive. It’s all she can do to keep from falling into him, from blurting out her newfound revelation. It’s all she can do to not weep at the fact that he’s apparently in this too, that she isn’t the only one losing her shit right now.

“Iris, you asked me what I was doing to you. And I told you it’s nothing that you aren’t doing to me. And that’s the truth. Whatever you got, I'm probably so far past that already.”

The words get stuck, then, the song that’s been playing in her head since she saw him this evening, since she’s thought of what it would be like to be desired by someone like this, since she was a little girl dreaming, the sound like loving you has taken time, take time; but I always knew you could be mine, the melody one that skips in tune with her heart every time Barry makes these grand declarations like he’s just done.

He gives her another peck on the mouth, likely figuring that she’s lost all mental function. He isn’t wrong, and when Wally calls for his attention again, he gives her one more caress before turning back to him.

Still dazed, Iris turns and locks eyes with Linda who’s gazing at her in concern.

“You okay, Iris?” She eyes Barry over her shoulder. “That seemed pretty intense.”

“Can we talk?” Because Linda and Dan had been like this, enamored with each other. And Iris just wants to get it right. “Not right now, but later in the week?”

Linda nods. “Yeah, okay. Of course we can.” She takes a hold of both of Iris’s hands and gives a good squeeze. “But I see you retreating right now. Don’t. We’ll talk later, but don’t space out here. Stay in this moment; stay in this feeling.”

She looks up at her best friend. Iris can admit that she thought she knew love. She’s seen it in others, she’s written about it. But feeling it, at least what she thinks might be the beginning of it, is overwhelming. So she attempts to do as her friend asks and stay in the moment.

The parents leave around 10, with strict instructions to not tear apart the restaurant. The Parks have offered the place ‘til about 1, likely even later. With the tables pushed back, white strobe lights turned on, and the DJ from CCU already set up, the place could almost be mistaken for a club. More of Wally’s friends, or at least, more people he knows from school, those who weren’t invited to the more intimate dinner part of the night, start to file in and an off-duty cop that their dad has hired is manning the door. Iris’s 21st birthday had consisted of her own dinner at Golden’s and a night out at some bar downtown, but she thinks that Wally has got the right idea, making it more exclusive like this.

In an effort to “stay in the moment” (and not freak out about the fact that she’s officially acknowledged that she’s fallen into some sort of infatuation with Barry Allen), Iris orders her second of the birthday cocktail and sits down at the bar alongside Dan and Linda to watch the younger adults dance to the music. A tall woman in a pretty gold dress has a camera looped around her neck and is taking pictures of her classmates, all in their white, gold, or black party outfits. She’d gotten a few family portraits earlier, some of Linda and Iris, and one of Barry and Iris that had been meant to be pretty simple, them standing next to each other with Iris leaned in close, Barry holding on to her waist. But he’s standing just slightly behind her, with his big hand spread over her hip, and he’s looking down at her as she smiles softly for the camera. The photographer had shown them the photo after and it was the first time she had seen them together, the first time she can maybe see what he means when he tells her that he’s so far past wherever she is right now. But, and Iris can see it now, is feeling it now: he may not be as far past her as he thinks.

Now, Linda and Iris are the de facto chaperones for the night, a task that Linda is taking seriously as she hops up every few minutes to make sure no one is tearing up her parents’ place. Barry, who’d been talking to her dad before he left, strolls over to her, expression calm. He walks right into her, positioning himself between her legs, planting his hands right on her hips.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Iris, in the process of looping her arm around his neck, pulls back until only her hand is circling his throat. “What are you sorry for?”

“I told you that I would,” he waves a hand as he tries to find his words, “that I would give you the time that you need. And I told myself that I would take it easy, that I wouldn’t pressure you. But I think earlier, I, I was…”

“Wait, no.” She shakes her head, stopping him. She has to lean in closer, because the DJ has just started up and the music is loud in the relatively small space, in addition to her currently drunk brother and his friends singing along loudly to the song. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just trying to figure out what it all means. This is, this is new to me, and I’m just...”

He nods slowly when she trails off, flicking his pink tongue out to swipe across his mouth. Iris follows the action, eyes darting up when his lips start to curve up.

“I’m here until you figure it out.” He steps closer, closing the distance between them. Her legs wrap around his waist automatically, hands sliding up until they’re holding onto her hips. “And in the meantime, we can get a little tipsy and make out like we’re 21 again.”

“Oh, so you did a lot of drunk making out at 21?”

His eyes go big. “Of course not. Just maybe once or twice, you know.” He taps her hip. “And with no one as pretty as you.”

Iris barks out a laugh. “Nice save.”

He grins wide. “Yeah. I thought so too.”

He orders another drink too, and Allegra smirks at the both of them, her version of a smile, as she sets their drinks down.

Iris grabs her drink and raises the glass. “Let’s toast.”

“Okay,” Barry agrees. “What are we toasting to?”

“New relationships?” she tries.

“Sure,” he nods. “And to figuring it out.”

They clink glasses.

She doesn’t know how long it takes Barry to get her alone in a dark corner, grinding on one another to the music. They sit at the bar for a little while longer, until they finish their cocktails. They order another, though Iris asks for more of whatever mixers are being used than champagne. They don’t try to talk much since they can’t really hear one another without shouting at the other. Instead, they watch the younger crowd dance for a while. Iris turns her chair all the way around so that she can keep an eye, and Barry sits down beside her. He’s turned to the side so that he can crowd her, legs wide, both of his hands touching her.

At one point, Linda stands up and walks through the crowd in her tall black strappy heels and leather pants. She straightens the sheer white blouse she’s got tucked into her pants and grabs the microphone from the DJ.

“Alright,” she starts amidst groans from the crowd when the music is cut. “Oh hush it.” She searches out the crowd until she finds Wally and then she smiles at him. “So Iris and I really want to thank you all for coming out tonight; she’s not up here because speaking in front of crowds isn’t really her thing, but I know I speak for us both when I say that we’re so happy to celebrate my honorary baby brother. Get drunk, but don’t forget to tip the bartender. Have fun, but not enough that you tear my parents’ shit up. And as we’re drinking and dancing, let’s remember the beautiful man that we’re here to love on. I’m so incredibly lucky that you let me into your life when I made my way into Iris’s. Happy birthday and I love you, Wally.”

Wally blows a kiss at Linda and then turns to catch Iris’s eyes. She sees the sheen of unshed tears in Wally’s and he mouths an “I love you” at her that she immediately mouths back. Up front, Linda starts to move away from the mic and then comes back. “And one round of shots on me!”

The music starts back up and the partiers get back into the groove. Iris and Barry sit for moments longer, until the music changes to something lower, sultrier, the lyrics seductive, i-i recognize the butterflies inside me, ah; sense is gonna be made tonight, tonight; all you gotta do is say yes, the beat one that she can feel in every part of her. Barry must feel it too.

“Dance with me,” he requests, standing, and she nods, taking his hand and following him out. He finds them a spot off to the opposite end of the DJ, further away from where the crowd of dancers have also begun to pair off, to fall victim to the beat of this song. Barry stands with his back against the wall, near where a curtain hangs shadowed from the others, and he turns Iris until her ass is pressed firmly against his front.

She begins to rock, winding her hips in easy circles, letting her body learn the rhythm of the song, all you gotta do is say yes, letting her body get lost in the music, lost in the crooned commands as the artists sing, don’t deny what you feel, let me undress you, baby. He matches her, swaying with her, touching on her as he does. He holds onto her, one hand pressed just beneath her breasts, the other right above her pelvis. She lets her head fall back onto his shoulder, wrapping her arm behind her around his neck. Barry leans down and presses a kiss to her cheek, her ear, tugging at the lobe with his teeth, with his tongue, sucking on her.

“Hmmm,” she purrs, grinding back against him, humming along, open up your mind and just rest; i’m about to let you know that you make me so, so...

“I’ve been watching you,” Barry tells her, whispering it into her ear over the music. “In this dress all fucking night. Do you know what it’s been doing to me?”

She shakes her head in response to his question.

“It’s been driving me crazy,” he responds. “Wally’s little friends have been watching you, probably wanting to touch you like I’ve been wanting to do all night.”

She doesn’t stop dancing, hips moving slow to one side, slower to the other, Barry moving with her. He grinds behind her, holding her tight against him. She can feel him start to swell against her ass and she closes her eyes at the feeling, at the sound of his voice, rough and arousal-soaked, speaking in her ear.

“You walked up to me on the street with this leg out.” He rubs down as much of her thigh as he can reach and then back up. “Your skin glowing and that sexy mouth of yours smiling at me.”

He tips his fingers back up her thigh and he reaches under her dress and across her pelvis. Her legs spread as she bends her knees, still in time to the music, but it gives him more access. The panties she’s got on are black and high cut, and Barry caresses her bare bikini line. Her grip tightens on his neck, bringing them even closer, making it easier to slide his fingers even further into her panties.

“Barry,” she whispers, and she knows he can’t hear her. But he doesn’t need to because he taps her on her pelvis, his longest finger catching on her clit.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I’m not gonna finger fuck you out here.”

Iris realizes, as he says it, that maybe she wouldn’t hate it; because the singers are saying, you make me so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, and he does, make her so so so...and she’s feeling it, feeling him, wondering what people might see if they looked over, wondering why the thought of it makes her stomach clench, a little in embarrassment, a little more in something that makes the clench move lower, her sex clamping around where she wants his fingers, where she wants his dick.

She turns, wraps her arms around his neck, and kisses him. It gets deep fast, with Iris licking into Barry’s mouth and Barry returning her kiss with fervor. She grips at the hair at the nape of his neck, and he reaches down, gripping a firm handful of her ass to bring her closer. She moans into his mouth, catching his answering groan.

She pulls back. “Come with me.”

She takes his hand and leads him through the crowd. No one is paying much attention to them; Wally is still in the middle of the floor, dancing against a tall good looking dark-skinned man. Linda is out there too, Dan dancing his normal one-two step move as Linda leans close to him, her arms looped around his neck. Iris takes Barry to the back, down the hall that leads past the kitchen. The bathrooms are there, and Iris checks to make sure no one is coming before she pushes through the door and leads him inside. She takes him to the last and the largest of the three stalls, past the three gold circular mirrors above clean white sinks; her shoes are loud on the black marble floors.

“You know,” Barry says as she locks the stall door behind her. He grabs for her, clutching her hand. “You claimed it was me who got you to do stuff like this, but you brought me back here.”

She lifts her eyebrow at him, even as she moves past him to lean against the wall. “You saying you don’t want me in here?”

She positions herself so that her leg is peeking out from the long slit in her dress. She doesn’t know what’s gotten into her.

Except maybe she does.

The weight of her earlier revelation sits heavy on her, and the song that’s been playing, the you make me so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, sits just as heavy, pushing on her thighs, and on her heart too; and Iris needs to do something with it, needs to let go of some of this feeling, to get out the parts that might start to be too much, that are already beginning to flood her, so that she can make sense of what’s really there.

So she looks Barry in the eye, runs her manicured nails over her throat, down through her cleavage, over her belly until she can touch at the top of her thigh. She opens the skirt, showing him the panties he’d been playing with earlier, the lace around her waist, the thin fabric that shows exactly what it’s supposed to be covering.

“Bear?”

He’s over to her in two long strides. He plants both of his hands on the wall behind her, crowding her.

“I want you wherever you want me,” he tells her. “On your couch, on a blanket in the woods, in as many places in this restaurant as you’ll let me fuck you in.”

He licks his lips, but he doesn’t move to touch her. Instead, he thrusts his hips against her so that she can feel him, hard and solid against her pelvis.

“This is what you do to me, baby. I think about you and I’m like this.” He pushes against her one more time and then tells her to “turn around.”

She does. And the next few moments are like something out of a film, how rushed they are, how passionate. He presses her against the wall and touches her as he rubs his dick on her ass, slipping his hand into the top of her dress to play with her breasts. Her bra is made of the same thin material as her panties and he alternates between squeezing the whole of her breast and then pinching at the nipples, and then moving to the other to do more of the same. He kisses her wherever his mouth catches her: in her hair, on her cheek, on her shoulders when her dress starts to slide. They’re both breathing heavily; Iris is grinding back onto Barry where he’s so goddamn hard behind her, his sex swollen and his chest covering her. Her hands are clenching and unclenching into fists as she bangs lightly on the wall, moaning deep in her throat, humming her pleasure, you make me so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so...

Iris hears the clank of his belt unbuckling. And her pussy is ready for him, slick and throbbing as she looks behind her to see him shoving his pants past his knees, gripping and then tearing open a condom he’s gotten from somewhere, caressing his own thick dick as he rolls it on. He leans over and kisses her, wet and sloppy, holding her in this position until he’s done devouring her mouth. Then he turns her back to the wall and lifts her dress, draping it above her waist. The cool air hits her heated flesh, and that contact, and Barry’s fingers spreading her thighs, and Barry pushing her panties to the side, rubbing along her slit to make sure she’s ready for him, it makes her moan loud and long.

Barry pushing into her cuts her off.

Her heels put her at the perfect height to arch her back into him, to take him in.

“Shit, Iris,” he murmurs. He pulls out, pushes back in, pulls out to the tip, pushes back in, and Iris knocks her forehead against the wall. “All the time,” he tells her, “I, I think about being in this pussy all the time.”

Her pussy opens for him, when he says that, letting him in deeper. Barry finds a rhythm, short strokes first, shallow and brief; and then longer strokes that bury him in, that smacks his pelvis against her ass. She loves the feel of him behind her, even if she misses being able to touch him, but the feel of his kissing on her and touching on her and fucking so hard into her more than makes up for it.

And then the door opens. Iris hears the music grow louder for several seconds and the unsteady clack of multiple pairs of heels and the drunken laughter of the women walking.

Iris whimpers, the sound turning into a moan because Barry doesn’t stop, just keeps riding her, gripping her waist tight. She holds in the moan she wants to let out, holds in how much she wants to slap her hand against the wall since she can’t. Barry angles himself closer to her.

“I think you like it, Iris,” he murmurs into her ear. “As soon as that door opened, you got wetter, baby.”

“Ahhh,” she breathes heavily as he pumps into her.

“You like it when you could get caught, huh? When someone might hear you?”

Iris shuts her eyes tight, shakes her head, and then bites down on her lip to keep from yelling out. But he feels so good, so thick and hard, and the feeling’s curling thick in her belly, thicker in her walls quivering around him. And he might not necessarily be wrong, that she likes it, the possibility of being caught, the fact that she could be heard. The loud laughter she’d heard when the door opened has quieted to softer giggles now; maybe they think she’s so into this that she doesn’t notice that the door never opened again, but they’re still there, amused by what’s happening. And from the way she keeps tightening on Barry’s dick, the way she’s pushing back against him, harder and harder, she’s more than into this.

“No? You don’t like this?” Barry questions and he shifts her dress even higher up her waist, pressing her harder into the wall.

“Fuck,” she grunts at the contact.

He gives a short, breathy chuckle. “Don’t worry. I like it too.” He reaches up and pulls her lip from between her teeth. “Don’t hold back. Let them hear you. Louder, baby.” He keeps rocking into her, as he moves that same hand down her chin, down the line of her neck, until he wraps a hand around the base of her throat. “Moan for me louder. Let them know who’s fucking you in here, baby.”

“Oohhh, yes,” she moans, only a touch louder.

He rubs a hand over her exposed ass cheek, softly, reverently. And then he pulls her hand back and smacks her hard.

“Barryyyyy!” She yells. Her rhythm falters and her head falls back against his shoulder. The arch in her back deepens and it pushes him even deeper.

“Just like that,” Barry groans.

“Damn,” she hears one of the girls in the bathroom breathe.

“Maybe we should get out of here,” another says.

“After I’m done texting Chris to see if I can come over after this.”

There is another round of laughs and Barry laughs again against her throat. “They like what I’m doing to you too.”

There’s a light thin layer of sweat on her skin, the sheen on her face and her chest, down her thighs. She’s wet, (god, she always gets so wet with him), and she’s dripping out around his dick. Her dress is probably going to be ruined.

But none of that matters. All that does is the sensations she’s feeling. Sex with Barry always takes up every one of her senses, and this is no different: she can taste the champagne still on her tongue, the mint from his when he’d kissed her; she can smell the citrus of the lemongrass on his skin, the rose water on her own, the heady scent of their arousal filling her nostrils; she can’t physically see much, with her eyes constantly shut tight, but she can picture it, picture them, his pants down at his ankles, legs as wide as they can go, her dress hiked up over her hips, the long length of him sliding in and out of her soaked pussy from behind; the feel of her breasts pressed into the cool wall, his fingers pressed into her throat, her hand clutching onto that same wrist; the soft sound of their breathing, the girls speaking softly, the music still playing, matching her cries, singing ah, ah, yea-yeah, yeah, yea-yeah; oh right there, right there, right there; right there, right there; right there, oh, oh, mm, mmm.

“Tell me what you want, Iris,” Barry groans. “Tell me, tell them, fuck, baby…”

“Harder,” she says, wanting to come, needing him to get her there. “Harder, Bear, fuck me…”

He does. He shifts again so that he can push all the way into her, riding her ass, and he long strokes into her, knocking against something that makes her quiver, harder and harder, a little bit faster, but always good, so good, so good, so, so, so…

“Barry.” Her orgasm hits her just as hard as he’s been doing. She doesn’t even realize it’s coming, not until her entire body seizes up, even her toes curl in her shoes, and she pushes back on Barry, squeezing him tight. It triggers his own and he grips her waist as he spills into her, the feel of his throbbing dick prolonging her climax, making her fall back into him until she’s completely spent.

“Did you, uh, do a lot of this when you were 21 and tipsy making out?”

Iris stands against the wall of the stall, looking down at her dress for stains, holding her underwear in her hands because she couldn’t stand the wet feel of them on her. The bathroom is quiet now, save for the faint music still coming from the front. She knows that they should hurry before someone else comes in, but she can’t really move yet.

Barry laughs as he shoves himself back into his pants and buckles back up. He’s already tied the condom up and flushed it down the toilet.

“God, no. The most I could get was a little over the shirt boob action.”

Iris shakes her head, a little fondly. “Please never say boob action again.”

“No?” He rubs his hand down the front of his sweater. “That’s not sexy?”

Iris shakes her head again as he walks back over to her. “Not even a little bit. That’s probably why you weren’t getting any.”

“You’re probably right. But I’ve upped my game now.”

Iris laughs. “You’ve upped your game?”

He nods, a goofy little grin on his face. He stops in front of her and takes one of her hands in his.

“Yeah. We did a little dancing, a little touching.” He wiggles his eyebrows and grabs at the panties in her hand, holding them up. “And I got you to fuck me in a bathroom.”

“Oh?” Iris watches as he puts the panties into his pockets. “You got me to fuck you?” She looks down at herself, and then sticks her leg out further. The slit of this dress, the shoes, the way the dress drapes her frame is undoubtedly a tongue-tier. Barry nods, swallows, and meets her gaze again, those eyes doing that graying thing she’s found she loves.

“Y-yeah. We can, uh, we can share the credit.”

Iris laughs out loud at that. “Come on,” she squeezes his hand and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Let’s get out of here. We’re already gonna have to sneak out. What if those girls tell Wally? I can’t believe you had me doing all that.”

They leave the bathroom stall, heading for the door.

“It’s my game,” Barry replies, and Iris hides her laughter as they slip back into the party.

She looks for Wally to tell him that she’s leaving. Luckily, he’s at the bar, laughing with Allegra and the man he was dancing with earlier.

“Iris!” he shouts when he sees her. “Barry!”

Iris laughs as she steps into his open arms. “Are you having a good time, baby?”

“I’m having the best time.” He squeezes her. “I bet you are too.”

He looks over her shoulder at Barry and when she turns too, she sees a bit of color in his cheeks.

“What are you talking about?” she deflects.

Wally’s shrug is not at all sly. “I heard that someone was in the ladies’ room screaming out ‘Barry.’” He winks at Barry who goes even redder. “You should probably be glad Xuan and Theo think of you as a daughter.”

She rolls her eyes, even as she turns her head to hide her embarrassment. “We just came to tell you that we’re leaving. I’ve got class in the morning.”

“Of course,” Wally says, nodding. “And you’re both probably tired.”

“Okay, bye,” Iris starts to move out of his arms.

Wally laughs and tightens his arms around her. “I’m only kidding, big sis.” Then his smile turns softer and he casts another glance at Barry, before reaching down and cupping her cheek.

“This man is gone over you, Iris,” he says softly. “And I’m so happy for you. Nobody I know deserves a love like this more than you do.”

Iris gives him a smile and then another quick hug. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He pulls Barry in for a hug. “So good to officially meet you.”

“You too, man.”

And with that, Barry takes her hand and leads him out, and Iris follows beside him, overcome with what she’s feeling for him. She’d thought the sex might give her some space to think, but it’s only really just heightened it. They are still in the rising action of this story, gliding higher and higher on a diagram, climbing towards a climax she’s becoming excited to experience.

She’s only scared of what might happen when they come down from it.

All you gotta do is say yes

(Don't deny what you feel, let me)

[whenputtingpentopaper]

The Song

Part I - Kili’s Mistake

Part: I 

A/N: I know the imagine is five years old, but I always loved reading the works that came of it. This is my own spin on the prompt, and there will be multiple parts. This is just the first. This is also my first work for this blog, and I’m very happy to get it out there. It was a joy to write over the past week. Also, the song is the Celtic Women’s version of Mo Ghile Mear, which is originally based on a poem about the Jacobite Rising of 1715. It has an interesting history, but I picked this version because it was the one that came to me when I thought of what the reader might sing. Because it isn’t native to Middle Earth, I changed the meaning of the song a bit; although, if you look at the translated lyrics of the chorus, it could imply the meaning I have assigned to it. Please, give it a listen; everything about it--the vocals, music, lyrics--are beautiful!

Also, requests are currently open, so request here. I am currently accepting requests for headcanons, blurbs, drabbles & one-shots!

Pairing: Kili (Tolkien) x Reader

Words: 2447

Synopsis: Based on the following ImaginexHobbit imagine found here.

Rated: T

Warnings: Language, Nudity & Sexual Themes

Can you feel the river run? Waves are dancing to the sun Take the tide and face the sea And find a way to follow me

The soft lilt of your voice carried through the silence of the night, your only accompaniment the gentle whisper of leaves, the barely there hum of woodland critters, and the sound of drops, rolling down your bare skin to fall to the river from whence they came. Fortunately, the wind was forgiving, tepid against your cooled skin, and the water that surrounded your body up to your waist was the perfect temperature. Refreshing but not freezing.

Leave the field and leave the fire And find the flame of your desire Set your heart on this far shore And sing your dream to me once more

Lifting your arms to bring your brush through another section of hair, you resumed your singing, eyes falling closed.

'Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear 'Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin Ó chuaigh I gcéin mo ghile mear

It was an old song but pretty, one your mother had used to sing to you when you were but a wee thing. Her ethereal voice combined with the melodic yet mysterious chorus were enough to soothe you to slumber. It was a comfort, even later on in your life, when you learned of the sad story the lyrics were weaving. A woman losing her love; a heartbreaking premise if there ever was one. And yet, it was as beautiful as the full moon’s reflection on this clear night.

Now the time has come to leave Keep the flame and still believe Know that love will shine through darkness One bright star to light the wave

Scooping up some water with your free hand, you brought the liquid to your right arm, rubbing gently against your skin and removing the dirt and grime that had built up from being on the road the past few days. You switched your brush to the opposite palm, repeating the process on the opposite side. It felt so good to be clean, which was why you couldn’t resist the opportunity to break away from your company of thirteen dwarves and a hobbit to come down to this river. You had known it to be here, having passed it earlier in the evening, just before Thorin had decided it was time they make camp. The lot of them had been so excited to finally sit in front of a fire and eat, but not you. Food could wait. You longed for a bath, knowing the last one you had was back in Rivendell.

'Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear 'Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin Ó chuaigh I gcéin mo ghile mear

You began to braid together the locks of your damp hair, having learned your lesson about letting it fly free while you roamed about Middle Earth. As your fingers twisted in and out, you began to head back towards shore, the wind having a slight chill to it now as it hit more and more of exposed skin. You broke out in gooseflesh as your feet left the water for the fine sand that made the shore. Quickly, urged on by the sudden cold and your nakedness, you finished the large plait, securing it with a band before letting it fall limp against your back. 

Lift your voice and raise the sail Know that love will never fail Know that I will sing to you Each night as I dream of you

You waited a few minutes, using your hands to warm your shoulders as you walked over to the small towel you had laid out on a nearby rock. A tunic and trousers lay beside it, without dampness and warm and calling to you, but you took some time to dry yourself off, bending over to start with your legs before bringing the towel over your stomach and chest. Your arms were last, and the air would remove whatever wetness remained on your cheeks.

'Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear 'Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin Ó chuaigh I gcéin mo ghile mear

Finally dressed, you gathered your towel and brush, walking back towards the campsite, using deep dwarfish laughter as your guide. There was a slight upslope towards them with trees littering the path you made, but now that you were in a few layers and shoes, you did not mind the walk, continuing to sing softly to yourself until you came to the end of the song. 

A few moments later, you were being greeted by smiles and Bofur asking about your bath.

“It was wonderful, and definitely something I needed,” you responded as you placed your items by your pack before joining the Company around the fire. A bowl was put into your lap, filled about halfway with some stew. It was still steaming, thankfully, and you immediately began to eat, your stomach aching now with the prospect of being filled with food, and Bombur’s food to boot!

“Perhaps we should all partake in a bath before setting out in the morrow,” Bilbo nonchalantly suggested from beside you, and you hid your smile behind the rim of your bowl. He had been complaining of the stench that seemed to permeate the Company; you weren’t the only one having gone without a proper cleansing since your time with the elves.

The golden-haired dwarf was the first to respond to the hobbit’s suggestion, his eyes going wide with mock outrage. “Why, Bilbo, are you suggesting that we stink?”

“You know what, Fili, I think he is suggesting such a thing,” Kili said, lightly hitting his brother’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “The nerve. Especially when he smells just as bad.”

“Aye,” agreed his brother, leaning towards him as he eyed Bilbo with a frown. “If not worse.”

The hobbit looked absolutely livid by the two young dwarves’ banter, and the scowl on his face with his glare directed at them had the opposite effect than what had been desired. The brothers bursted out into laughter, and the rest of the group soon joined in at poor Bilbo’s expense. Even you, who normally took pity on the object of Kili’s and Fili’s wrath were not immune to the infectious hysterics. And so, the rest of the evening continued on with small talk and howling among companions; nothing of any real note happened until you were settling down for the night.

The trouble started as you were laying out your bedroll beneath a tree, close to Bilbo and Kili, who was in the midst of doing the same. Fili was taking first watch, meaning he was away from his younger brother, and therefore, not being influenced to partake in his dastardly whims. The camp was quiet because of this, several of the company’s members already burrowed beneath their blankets, soothed to sleep by the crickets and frogs, voicing their own soothing lullaby. 

But they were not the only ones singing. 

'Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear 'Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear

It was the brunet Durin, murmuring the words to your song. 

Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin Ó chuaigh I gcéin mo ghile mear

And there was only one possible way he could have heard it, as you had never, ever sung in the presence of any of the men you were currently traveling with. You couldn’t. Not knowingly. You had an awful case of nerves whenever asked to perform in front of others, so to have learned the lyrics to that song…

“Kili!” his name was a horrified gasp from your lips, and he froze in his work, his back still to you. He had gone silent, the rest of the words dying in his throat when he realized he had been caught.

You stepped over your bedroll before taking another long stride to find yourself leaning down into the young Dwarf’s face, hands on your hips. “How do you know that song?”

Kili audibly gulped, chocolate brown eyes straying from yours as he took a few moments to try and come up with some sort of an excuse, but having you this close to him, even with all your ire drifting off of your form in waves, was chasing away any coherent thought, let alone a proper explanation. And as more time passed in silence, he could feel your glare sharpening, as if getting ready to pierce right through him. His lips parted, having found his throat had gone dry, and he sucked in a bit of air to try and buy himself some more time. Of course, he had nothing to say. What could he say when it was quite obvious just where he had heard that song before?

But your patience had, apparently, run out, and more than anything, you felt the sting of betrayal. This dwarf, this wonderful goofy man-child that you had come to care for, clearly wasn’t the gentleman you had initially learned him to be. All those offerings of hands to keep you from tripping, giftings of his blanket to keep you warmer at night and all those questions regarding your well-being, where had they stemmed from? How could the same person that had been so kind and polite towards you--with the occasional, meaningless prank--peak on you while you were in the middle of a bath? You had told him where you were going because you trusted that he would keep the others from following; it most certainly had not been an invitation for a private viewing party. 

Unable to bear his presence any longer, you spun away from him, crossing the short distance to your bedroll and gathering it up in your arms along with the rest of your things. You walked around the Hobbit, who was currently feigning sleep to make it seem that he hadn’t been listening to your whole exchange with the young prince, and set yourself up so that he was your buffer. The whole while, you felt Kili’s eyes at your back, and when you went to lay down for the evening, in your periphery, you noticed that he had not moved from where you had left him, only now, he looked positively guilty, head hanging and bottom lip in an almost-pout. 

Your heart--infernal thing that it was--ached at his expression. He looked even smaller than usual--being a human, you were taller than him--but you couldn’t let that get to you. What he did was wrong. And the fact he had no explanation for his behavior confirmed the worst for you. He had really just come down to the river to get an eyeful of you; the performance was just an extra, one that had lingered in his mind. 

It stung, and you had trouble falling asleep that night, your back to both Bilbo and Kili. That next morning, it was Fili--not his brother--that had tapped your shoe with the tip of his boot, stirring you from slumber. Dazed, you lifted your head slowly, looking at him over your shoulder.

“Time to get up, Y/N. Thorin wants us to move out soon,” the blond dwarf said with a pitying smile; it was clear that he had woken you from a deep sleep.

Once he had walked off, you gave yourself a moment and a good stretch before getting to your feet and starting on packing. 

Beside you, Bilbo was just finishing up with his bedroll when he turned to you. The hobbit watched you for a few minutes, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally stepped towards you and said what was on his mind, “I, um, I know it probably isn’t any of my business, but your father did ask that I keep an eye out for you while on this journey. And I, obviously, saw what had happened between you and Kili last night. It isn’t clear to me what had transpired; all I gathered from the situation was that you weren’t happy he knew that song he had been singing. However, if you do feel like talking, know that I am more than willing to lend an ear, should you need it.”

It was a sweet sentiment, one that made you smile at him as you straightened to your full height. “Thanks, Bilbo. I appreciate you being willing to do that for me, but this is really between Kili and I.”

“Understood,” he responded with a nod, curls bouncing with the movement. “But if you change your mind, don’t be afraid to come to me.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Unfortunately for Kili--and Fili, too, who had to hear his brother’s lamenting whenever the two of them were alone--your way of handling the situation was to completely avoid him. If he brought his pony up by yours, you’d urge yours to go a bit faster, moving between two company members so that the brown-haired prince had no choice but to remain behind you. If he tried to talk to you once camp was set, you’d make your way over to Bilbo or Bofur and talk to them as if Kili hadn’t just called your name. If you woke in the morning to find his blanket over you, you’d fold it up and place it by him. But what killed the young dwarf the most was the fact that you wouldn’t even look at him, and you didn’t do it with such conviction, too, as if your eyes landing upon his features would cause you to turn to stone. That was preposterous, of course, but damn it all! He missed you!

For you, there was a simple reason for gazing everywhere but at Kili’s face. If you didn’t see the puppy dog eyes, they would have no effect on you. Plain and simple. Although, after a couple days of this, you were beginning to miss him, too. This had gone on for long enough. It was childish behavior on your part--both Bilbo and Fili had said so--but they did not know what he had done! And to fix things between the two of you, a talk would have to happen, one you weren’t sure you were ready to have since it would involve bringing up the fact he had been peeping on you down at the river.

So things continued to be painful for the Company, as neither of you could find the will to broach the subject with the other, until the two of you had no choice but to have that awkward conversation. 

The setting? Mirkwood’s dungeon.

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

The Best Things ~ J.V. (Part 1)

A/n: I'm so sorry but I DESPERATELY needed to get this off my chest before I exploded because I have absolutely NO self control.

I made a playlist

Word Count: 5000+

MASTERLIST

Come in sets of two...

Y/n was an oddball.

At least that's what his parents said- a lot.

"You're such an oddball."

It seemed that they meant it endearingly, but the words stuck with Y/n much more than they probably should have. And maybe that was less because of his parents or even his brother and more because of the media and the other kids that treated him very differently than they usually treated other people.

It probably didn't help that he was a Wayne.

Bruce Wayne was an absolute golden boy. He was responsible, driven, intelligent. He was a staple for Boys Going Somewhere. A face to an idea that everyone absolutely adored. It was known very well that Bruce was going to be the successor to Wayne Enterprises- even though Y/n was two years older. Bruce was good to the core, with a wide smile but a certain professionalism that most adults didn't ever master.He was level headed and figured things out very easily. His parents were incredibly proud of him and held him very dearly, and it showed.

Y/n wasn't anything like him. He preferred staying up late and watching the stars or the sun set and then rise again, compared to understanding anything about business. He was somewhat of an artist. He had notebooks full of drawings and his room was covered with thumbtacked paintings he'd put on his wall with pride, even though most of them were what he was known for: people, animals, or objects that he'd fixated on long enough to paint them... except that they were often multiple things in one painting, and they were all mashed together in a rather alarming sight. He walked around with paint in his hair and on his clothes, his eyes bright and shining and his energy completely uncontained. He had no sense of self control or when to be quiet or calm. Most often he wasn't even found at home, as he went to school and then hung out with friends he'd made on the streets.

It was instantly incredibly obvious the drastic difference between the two boys, and people had been bidding on which one would succeed and which one would flop the very first second Bruce had been born. Every bet was on Bruce making it.

Despite everything, Y/n and Bruce got along very well. Y/n was rather emotional and got upset very quickly when he was ignored, which worked quite nicely with Bruce's curiosity. Y/n could go on for hours about the same thing and Bruce would listen. Bruce could ask questions about one painting for just as long and Y/n would eagerly answer each one, going into as much detail as possible. Y/n pulled Bruce out of his comfort zone and gave him a little fun outside of the expectations that were constantly pressing down on him. Likewise, Bruce took up the mantle and allowed Y/n the complete freedom to be himself and be appreciated for it.

Even the boys' parents had a pretty steady relationship with Y/n. They found him to be a little much, but with Bruce leaving them reassured that their company would be in a pair of capable hands, they were perfectly fine with letting Y/n go absolutely wild. As log as he was safe and everything he did was legal. They might live in Gotham, but the Waynes were good people and that wasn't changing anytime soon.

Overall, they were a very happy family.

Everything changed the night Thomas and Martha Wayne were shot dead on a way home from a movie they'd taken Bruce to.

It had been a night out like any other. Y/n stayed home as usual- it was the only time he could turn his music all the way up and completely lose himself in whatever he wanted to. The others didn't mind. It let Y/n blow off steam and made him much calmer for a while; in addition, they had a night out together and got to bond with Bruce. Sometimes they'd take just Y/n, and sometimes Y/n and Bruce would go out together without their parents, but most of the time it was Thomas and Martha and Bruce, and each Wayne was okay with that.

Y/n was staring at a half painted canvas, eyes wide and fingers trailing the path of his lips. He was loving the loudness and the thumping of the beat under his feet. Like it was in his blood. He smiled, raising the paintbrush.

The door busted open. "Y/N!"

Y/n spun around, startled. In the sharp movement, he knocked over a tiny bowl full of paint. Alfred reached over, turning the music off. "Your parents were shot and killed. Bruce is home early." Red paint dripped down the easel and over Y/n's shoes as the words tried to sink in but failed.It was like looking at something see through or invisible. Like feeling the breeze and wishing to catch it, but never able to close your fingers around empty air. Y/n just couldn't comprehend what Alfred was saying. Sensing his shock, Alfred moved closer. His voice was softer when he repeated, "Y/n. Bruce needs you. He won't admit it, but I can't help him lone.He won;t even admit he needs help. He might open up to you."

"No," Y/n choked out. Martha Wayne was far too kind and gentle. She was warmth and safety incarnate. Something so good and bright wasn't allowed to fade. Like yellow paint,or the sun. She always came back in the morning Always. And Thomas Wayne was... unbreakable. Unshakable. Impossible to even faze, let alone kill. He was unbeatable. Nothing could kill him. He'd live forever. Or, at the very least, go out at his own time when he was completely sure he was ready to. "No."

"Yes," Alfred insisted, shaking Y/n's shoulders violently. Y/n flinched. "Please-"

Without another word, Y/n pushed away from Alfred and sped to Bruce's room. He didn't even knock. Bruce was sitting on his bed, his eyes haunted and his lips resting in a soft frown. His hands were in his lap as he perched on the edge of the bed like he was planning to run any second, but he also seemed cemented in place as if he couldn't go anywhere even if he wanted to. He was scary still, and as his eyes slowly moved from the floor to meet Y/n's gaze, the older Wayne shivered at the darkness in his gaze. "Bruce?"

Bruce nodded stiffly in forced greeting. "Y/n."

Y/n bit his lip. Bruce's gaze fell to Y/n's feet and widened, his hands tightening on his knees. Y/n looked down to see the red paint still on his shoe, beginning to dry, and immediately felt sick. "So-" he cut off, his throat burning like he'd swallowed acid."So they're really-"

"Yeah," Bruce interrupted.

"You were there."

"Yeah."

Silence fell like a piano from a fifth story building. Even when the silence left, the feeling didn't. Both boys were suddenly being crushed under the weight of a ginormous object neither of them could see let alone explain or find the strength to remove. It stayed through the funeral, and onward. It manifested differently for each boy.

Bruce began to dig into his parents' murder, sifting through file after file, night after night. He got little sleep and ate even less often. At least he wasn't hurting himself anymore. That he had done a lot right before Alfred, Y/n, and Jim Gordon had all teamed up to knock him out of it.

Y/n was thrown into the world of business. He was torn away from everything he cared about. His freedom and dreams were stolen ad he was forced to clean up and get into a suit and start taking care of the family company- at least until Bruce was ready. In a few months he lost not only the things he enjoyed and his parents, but also his friends and the easy going way of life. He was beaten down and forced to be calm and collected. He was taught how to not deal with emotions like real men do and handle business that needed to get taken care of. He wasn't a person anymore. He was a tool.

It was unbearable for Bruce. He was losing all of his family in one go and as he tried to fight to make sense of it or keep anything of his old life, people kept trying to knock him down a peg and remind him that he was a child. Even though Y/n, barely 14, was apparently old enough to have the world on his shoulders when he was completely and totally not able to handle it in any way. It was supposed to be Bruce's job.

Finally he managed to prove his capabilities, but not in time to save Y/n. He had been rung out by the press and pushed to the brink and then over by the people at Wayne Enterprises. When he got his free time back, he didn't spend it watching the stars or the sun rise and fall. He didn't spend it painting dogs and lamps. He didn't spend it doodling and ranting to Bruce about all the things he found wonderful about the world. He spent each and every second he had locked in his room, painting.

The colors of each work began to get darker, the themes more twisted. They got better as he fixated on one thing only... unfortunately, that thing was death.

Y/n was spiraling. He didn't take care of himself and sometimes didn't come out of his room for days. Bruce tried to get through to him, but it seemed that something really bad had happened while everyone had expected him to be in charge. The thing was, there were no hints about it and of course no one at the company would fess up about anything. Y/n wouldn't talk about it. Anytime anyone even mentioned Wayne Enterprises, he would pull away and become unresponsive.

Then the Maniax began wreaking havoc.

Y/n's focus suddenly changed. He wasn't fascinated per say by the horrible things going wrong, but more the people that were committing the heinous acts. One day Bruce finally got him to talk about it, and all Y/n had to say was, "I mean, who does that? Who goes around just killing people like it doesn't mean anything? For no reason? Look at the redhead- he shoots one of his own guys for no reason- Look, right there. What kind of mental state would someone have to be in to be so flippant about taking a life?"

The obsession with the Maniax was soon followed by an obsession of killers in general. He was found constantly reading history books about some of the world's worst killers. Then, about Gotham's worst killers specifically.

That was why Bruce went to him when he began to get involved with that same redhead that had set Y/n down this path in the very beginning. "What do you think drives him? I mean, why do what he does?" Bruce asked his brother one day. It had been quite a while since they'd sat down and talked like this. When Bruce would ask questions about something Y/n fixated on and Y/n answered with pure eagerness. This had been the first time the information had been useful or had a realistic application, and it was upsetting.

"Probably some mental disorders. Perhaps some childhood trauma. He's probably immensely desensitized..." He paused. "Jerome Velaska is actually quite odd. He's probably just psychotic, with some serious abandonment issues and a sort of god complex. He wants to be seen and known and craves endless adoration and attention. He'll do anything to get what he wants, and doesn't have the patience or tolerance for anything else. That's why he acts out- it's like he has the mind of a child. He didn't get his way and now he's going to pitch a fit and chuck his toys. His toys being people and the fit being murder."

Bruce swallowed. "That's demented."

"Hm?" Y/n hummed. He blinked then forced himself to nod. He had zoned out and not blinked to bring himself back to the present. "Yeah. He's totally messed up."

Bruce tried not to ask Y/n about Jerome again after that. There had been a strange light in his eyes. A dangerous interest that made Bruce... nervous.

Everything came to a climatic bang when Alfred took the two brothers out to a charity banquet held in honor of a children's hospital. He'd only managed to get Y/n out because he'd been more energetic recently. More in a good mood. A little more like himself. In favor of seeing Y/n be so much like he used to, neither Alfred nor Bruce questioned it.

Boy did they wish they had though.

The night was seeming to pan out rather dull until the Magician came out. Y/n loved Magicians. He always had. He found their skill to pull off even the most obvious tricks was rather impressive. So when the Magician on stage asked for a volunteer and Bruce was chosen, Y/n was a little disheartened.

Bruce, however, seemed that he would rather do anything else. He had been nagging to leave anyway. Y/n stepped forward. "I can go up for you if you want," he offered.

The woman smiled and on stage, the Magician announced, "Ah yes! Just as well, just as well. Please, join us." The woman held out her hand for Y/n and he took it immediately.

Gotham hadn't seen Y/n in a very long time. People tittered and clapped and Y/n felt nervous. He hadn't been in front of a crowd since-

No, he wouldn't think about that. Tonight it was just some good fun and he'd be okay with that. Wasn't he allowed to have fun every once in a while?

The Magician greeted Y/n then opened a box, motioning for him to get in. He did, with a bounce in his step and excitement in his eyes. The box lid closed over top Y/n and the slats were put in place. It was the classic "sawed in half" trick. Y/n was immediately put off though. It would ruin the magic if an audience member did the trick. The assistant always did this trick, because it required a lot of trick of the eye to work. This way, he'd just get cut in-

Y/n's eyes went wide. The Magician above him smiled deviously.

"Does this handsome gentleman have a name?" Suddenly Y/n's body went cold. He knew that voice. Had heard it again and again and again on tv. He had seen that exact smile accompanying it. He was torn between the horror of the very real possibility of death at any second, and awe at finally meeting the man he'd been unable to get out of his head for the last significant amount of time. Since the whole bus full of high schoolers had almost been set on fire and that soon-to-be familiar face was all over the screen during the news broadcast about it. That face that had been and would be on every news broadcast for quite sometime. The Magician hummed, raising his eyebrows, and Y/n swallowed.

"Y/n," he said. There was no point now. He was trapped and at this man's mercy. What could he do? Cry for help? The most anyone would do is laugh it off, even if he could manage to get the lump out of his throat and get any coherent message across. Plus, something far more demanding kept him silent.

An extremely dangerous sense of curiosity.

If he was going to die tonight anyway, he might as well take his last moments to see what Jerome Valeska was like up close.

"Y/n," the not-magician repeated, musing over the name. "Well, Y/n, this won't hurt a bit." He clanged the two large saws together and Y/n felt breathless. What was he doing?! This was absolute madness! "Is there a doctor in the house?" The crowd laughed. The crowd LAUGHED. Of course they laughed. They always laughed. No one cared about Y/n Wayne.

Suddenly Alfred's voice sounded out, rather panicked. Y/n looked over, surprised. Of all people, Y/n didn't think it would have been Alfred who would have intervened. Alfred had been much too wrapped up in taking care of Bruce. Such as everyone was. Despite that, it was him to stumbled out, "Just- wait- excuse--" He held up a hand, everything going quiet and still as he tripped forward. "Just wait, wait, wait one second."

Jerome didn't wait.

The saw came down.

To his own shock, Y/n was fine.

The assistant rolled away his lower half and then returned it just in time for Jerome to lean close and whisper, "Give em a wave." Y/n looked directly into his eyes and his smile wavered. They were a pretty color. Brown, littered with slight blues and green that came alive under the stage lighting.

"I know who you are." The words wouldn't have been heard by anyone else other than Jerome- even if it wasn't for the clapping. Jerome froze, but Y/n didn't wait. He stood, waved to the audience to show he was alright, and then allowed the assistant to take him back to his place next to Bruce and Alfred.

When Jerome spoke gain, his words seemed to be a little different. Y/n placed the emotion when he turned back around again and saw Jerome's eyes glued intently to Y/n. He wasn't blinking. "Some say Y/n here has a split personality." The audience laughed at the pun and then his voice lightened again as he moved onto his next trick. As he called up the mayor an the set up began, the assistant's mask fell off.

Y/n gasped. He knew that face too. Unmistakable. Barbara Keene. Of course. How did Y/n not see that far sooner?

"I should warn you," Jerome teased lightly. "No one is getting out of here tonight alive." The audience laughed and Y/n thought he would feel terror at the words. What was stopping him now? He could whisper to Bruce or Alfred. To that nice lady from before-

It was then that Y/n realized Lee Thompkins was gone.

Jerome flung a knife straight into the Mayor's gut and Bruce stepped forward, gasping in time with the crowd. Y/n was torn. Why was he torn?! This was simple! Stop this! Right? Surely he could do something.

And yet... he found he didn't want to. God what the hell was wrong with him?

The Mayor fell and people began panicking. The gun shot started and Y/n moved without thinking, slipping behind a curtain and out of sight. He began to move through the curtains until he was far enough fromAlfred not to be stopped, then he was ducking to make sure he didn't get shot- and he waited.

He saw Jerome and Barbara tie up Lee and then make a call. He spoke loudly- it wasn't hard to make out at least one side of the conversation. His demands didn't make sense. They didn't line up at all with his character. Why...?

His maniacal laughter suddenly cut off as he turned to face his newly terrified audience. The moment was interrupted, though, by a new voice. "Enough!" Y/n stepped out from hiding to get a better view, only to see a man he didn't know. That was a new experience on this night where Y/n seemed to be able to put a name to ever face in this room that mattered. "It's time for you to pack up your little sideshow and leave," the man continued. Jerome was still grinning. That didn't make sense either. Why didn't he seemed bummed that his fun was getting interrupted, or a little tentative around the new player he hadn't planned his game around? How had this guy even gotten in, with all the guards outside? It felt off. Y/n could sense it immediately. Even the man spoke like he was... reading lines.

And Jerome responded in the exact same way. Like he was in a show. Like he was acting.

The movements of the two men and the way they formed words seemed so out of place. Even the shot of the gun Barbara used... none of it seemed natural.

Without thinking, Y/n stepped forward. The small noise his steps made immediately caught Jerome's attention. His eyes light up, his smile relaxing to a much more natural place. This was Jerome. The change was impossible to miss for Y/n, who had been carefully studying him so long.

"You," Jerome called, pointing directly at Y/n for the first time tonight. This felt even more thrilling than when Bruce had been picked. Now there was no charade or manipulation. It was just Jerome and Y/n. "Come here." He held up a gun, obviously ready to threaten someone's life to get Y/n to obey, but he was already moving before the words could leave Jerome's mouth. "What a nice boy." Y/n should have been at least pretending to be phased, but he was far too caught up in analyzing Jerome that he didn't think about how his step was confident and unfaltering, taking him to Jerome without any hesitation. He didn't think about the expression on his face, but how it made Jerome specifically respond. By simply having an emotion other than fear, Y/n had caught Jerome's attention and was reveling in it. Jerome could see that too, and it seemed to entertain him even more.

"You just gonna stare at me all day?" Y/n whispered softly, trying not to let his lips twitch into a smirk. Was he... flirting? It felt like he was suddenly outside of his body, watching this train wreck happen, unsure of who was in control or why he was doing anything he was.

Jerome seemed to be absolutely loving it. "Stand here with me." His voice was soft as silk, near purring. Y/n moved to where he motioned and stayed silent. The problem with his new placement: everyone could see his reactions now, not just Jerome. It was time to start acting at the very least.

Turns out he didn't much need to.

Jerome was easily terrifying as he was charismatic.

Every time Y/n thought he had caught on to Jerome schtick, he did something that threw Y/n off completely again. It was all fun and games, playing at murder but then pulling out some joke shot that didn't really make any sense. Did he actually want to keep all of us hostage? Wasn't it enough to have a few? Bruce, me and Alfred because Bruce was Gotham's golden boy, and he wouldn't let anything happen to me or Alfred. Lee Thompkins because she was his bargaining chip. The four of us would be plenty enough of a bargaining chip, maybe a handful more just in case. Why spare everyone, if he really did like killing so much?

There was something to Jerome that really intrigued Y/n. He wondered what the maniac was really thinking. What really drove him to act this way. To take control of a whole room full of Gotham's richest of the most well meaning... only to ask for ridiculous, nonsensical demands and not kill a single one of us.

Again Y/n got that sense, like something else major was actually happening here.

Y/n was zoning out. Missing things. He couldn't focus on the act going. The show that had more layers than what was originally apparent. He missed the whole throw down with Barbara and Lee as well, but caught the gist: Barbara was apparently in love with JimGordon and fancied that they'd end up together. Lee was apparently getting in the way of that. Blah, blah, blah. Girl drama and psychopaths and romance and delusion. Barbara almost killed Lee. Jerome stopped her. So on and so forth.

Then, Jerome attention was on Y/n again all of a sudden, even though he'd been carefully ignoring the boy he'd called up on stage until that point. He grinned at Y/n, the knife he'd taken fromBarbara manifesting in Jerome's hand. The redhead used it more like a finger than a weapon. He ran the dull side of the back of the blade under Y/n's chin, the flipped it so the blade was pressed gently to Y/n's skin. "My favorite volunteer," he said slowly, stepping far too close for what should have been comfortable. "You know, I've seen you on TV."

"And I, you." He hadn't meant to respond, but it had slipped out before he could stop it.

Jerome's head tilted as he popped his chin in pride. "Well, of course. I was meant to be on the big screen. I made my own way. It was my choice to end up where everyone could see me." He took a deep breath in. "You, however... what a scandal." Suddenly Y/n couldn't breath. Jerome roared in giddy, insane laughter. "There he is!" He turned to the audience, motioning to the slight shake of Y/n's body and the sickly pale tint to his skin. "There's that fear! That fear or hate or disgust or whatever it is you all feel for me... except for you." He looked back at Y/n. "We're so similar, Y/n," he sighed. "I'm an orphan too, you know. I don't fear death either."

"You killed your parents," Y/n managed to get out through gritted teeth.

Jerome tilted his head back and forth. "Details, details." The knife was at Y/n's throat again. "You're no fun anymore, you know. Everyone stops being fun at some point. I will give you one thing: you lasted longer than most." The knife pressed further into Y/n's throat and he sucked in a sharp breath as it broke skin, a single drop of blood making a vibrant path down his pale skin.

Gun shots. Suddenly Jerome spun, pressing Y/n's back to his chest, moving the blade so Y/n's was a hostage instead of the focused on target. There was a bit of chaos in the crowd, and Y/n's eyes widened to see Alfred and Jim Gordon of all people mowing through Jerome's lackies. Jim turned his barrel toward Y/n and Jerome. "Let him go!" He shouted. Jerome's giggle rang right next to Y/n's ear. Whatever weird spell from before that had Y/n controlled and calm and still broke and he flinched back away from the blade. Unfortunately, that only brought him closer to Jerome. After a second Jim defeatedly announced, "I don't have a clean shot. Jerome shifted, obviously eager in his moment of victory.

"Stay calm, Y/n," Alfred eased. Bruce was shuffling, knowing it wouldn't help to rush in but having to use every bit of his self control to stop himself from doing just that. He couldn't lose Y/n too. His brother was part of the quickly dwindling family he still had left.

Jerome's breath sounded in Y/n's ear as he gritted his teeth, switching from plying a game to planning an escape. Of course he wanted to get out of here alive. "It seems like we've got ourselves in a bit of a pickle. "What do you say Sweetheart?" Jerome mumbled in his ear. He was twitching, rocking a little from foot to foot. "Why don't we boost our ratings, hm?" The knife moved from one side of Y/n's throat to the other, drawing the smallest line of blood. Y/n gasped, his body shaking in suddenly very real fear. He wondered if this is how his parents had felt, or if they'd died too fast to really be afraid of dying at all. "Smile." Jerome began his wild, broken chittering of a laugh again.

This was familiar. Jerome had been waiting all night to kill someone, and for whatever reason he hadn't. Unfortunately, that meant he was definitely not going to hesitate to now. Y/n closed his eyes, and echoing, "NO!" Coming from his younger brother before he was sure he was about to be enveloped by darkness.

"I said, enough." Jerome let go of Y/n in surprise and both boys turned, unsure where to move from here. Not knowing how to switch gears. There stood the man from earlier. Theo Galavant. Theo grabbed Jerome by the color and drove a knife into the side of his neck. Y/n made a weird, half-choking, half-squeaking sound as the blade made impact into flesh, the audience gasping behind him.

Y/n couldn't move. He fell backwards, tripping over his own feet and barely catching himself as he made his way off the stage and to the ground. Theo must have thought he was further, but he heard it. He heard what the man said next. "I know, I know, I know," he cooed as Jerome choked, dying. Y/n blinked, trying to clear his head. So many thoughts were swimming through it and his chest had begun to tighten and twist. He couldn't breathe. He could still hear though. "This isn't what we rehearsed. I'm so sorry Jerome. You have real talent! But no, you see, the plot thickens. Enter: the hero."

Something horrible settled into Y/n's stomach as Jerome spoke again, his voice weak and raspy. "You... said... I was... gonna be..." He died before the sentence could finish, and Y/n was running. Ramming into Bruce, the boys holding each other tightly as Alfred enveloped them both with his arms.

"It's over," Alfred reassured. "You're safe now, Y/n, it's okay."

The words sounded sincere and full of relief, but Y/n couldn't shake that things were far from over. In fact, he was sure they'd only just begun.

-

[courtorderedcake]

Majestically Too Far Beyond, CSSNS 2020

Emma Swan is a Witch who has made (And apparently makes) bad decisions. Helping a desperate Witch out of a weird situation doesn't seem like a bad decision, even against her, runes, a tarot reading and her friend's Snow druid intuition - until it is and the consequences are very real.

Killian is a Demon with a long history of persecution against him, and his denizens are not much better off. His Angelic brother is on a mission to rehab Demonic image to prevent violence on the streets of Hyperion Heights, as some sort of Holy mission deeply rooted in millenia of guilt. Witches and Warlocks use them for parts, Werewolves see them as a threat, Angels mostly still hold on to the ancient feud regardless of their treatise, Fae stay chaotic neutral, Vampires don't care for others affairs - it's a perilous world where hate crimes happen without consequence. After a disastrous meeting, he attempts to drown his frustration with a trip to the bottom of a bottle, but ends up falling in bed with a mysterious Witch in her tower home. Soon he's missing a hand, has only the vaguest idea of what happened from the mess of blood he's woken up to, and a mirror shows that some strange, different, Witch is pregnant with his child.

RATED M for Mature Themes. Written for @cssns​ 2020 Beta’d by The best team ever ( @jarienn972​  @ultraluckycatnd​  @donteattheappleshook​) and Art by @kmomof4​

Read on Ao3 HERE. 1 | 2 

Chapter 2 - House Evil Spirits to appease of,

Part of Emma was coming to terms with the new fact that she was pregnant, then just as rapidly she reverts back through the cycle of grief, sometimes not in order. The doctor had warned her this would happen when she announced that they would be keeping her for overnight observation as a safety precaution, dropping the news that her new pregnancy hormones would also make her feel even more upside down then she had ever imagined. It was one thing to be told, but feeling it was another thing entirely.

She had gone from laughing at the breakfast menu she was handed to crying over grilled cheese not being an option, to enraged at being brought bright blue jello with her 'breakfast sandwich' made of bologna and eggs. They could not have known the intense reaction the jiggling neon goo would have given her, her magic flaring and sputtering in turn as she launched it away from her. But then again, she doubted any of the staff had spent time in a No-Magic cell. Nausea bloomed as soon as rage subsided, the food on the plastic tray too similar to what had been served to her over those long years locked away. 

Now irritation was playing through multiple emotions, a new nurse violently poking her with a needle, and running some sort of IV. 

"You're giving me what -" 

"A hormone treatment, and a magic suppressant." 

"But I need my magic -" 

"Would you prefer to shrivel up and die? You'll still have enough to do daily witch activities or whatever. This helps keep the extra at bay, and your baby healthy. It needs your magic." 

"Oh. Great." She laughed, half crazed at the news and the nurse's treatment. "Just great."

"Mess with their kind, and well." She shrugged, eyeing Emma's body. "An Angel wouldn't do that to you. A Vampire couldn't, and the rest of 'em could, but you wouldn't have to suffer through all this nasty magic aftermath. You're just early enough for a termination though, thank Merlin."

"I didn't do this to myself on purpose . This was never supposed to happen, at least not like this…" 

"Sure." The nurse rolled her eyes as she drew out the word, clearly being condescending. "It's never the Witch’s fault; I hear it every time I'm fixing them for blowing themselves in half for not reading a spell right. You play with dark magic, there's a cost." 

Emma scowled, hot tears starting and streaming down her cheeks. Her anger and ferocity that was there just moments before had evaporated without warning into a deep resignation. 

"Can my brother come to see me yet?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"After they question you, sure. He can come pick you up - You're done here." The nurse pulled off the empty bag from the IV stand, throwing it in the trash. 

The doctor entered, waving a hello. Emma did not notice her, too busy staring at her bump. She joined the nurse as a machine beeped, helping to take out her IV and the pads on her belly. When that was done, Emma sat up, wobbling from her strange new center of gravity. 

The doctor smiled at her kindly. "We'll have your test results in a few days to a week's time. You'll feel strange and sluggish the first few weeks as your body catches up to the rapid growth, your hormones, the magic, so on and so forth. From there, you may actually start to grow as normal until you'll need the next dose of suppression. We'll schedule that out for 4 months from now, checking in monthly, but if you grow suddenly, shrink suddenly, your extremities swell, or you begin to exhibit flu like symptoms, come in immediately. If anything seems off, just give us a call. We have a twenty-four seven nurse line should you have any other questions. Good luck!"

The doctor left without much more than a precursory glance back. 

Snapping her gloves, the nurse glared over her glasses at Emma. "Leave when you are ready. We got you a different outfit; it's amongst your personals there."

The nurse left in a hurry, leaving Emma to dress herself in a large pair of green hospital scrubs, her new figure completely foreign as she rubbed her hands across the smooth skin. Her once flat stomach was distended, a slight curve that pushed out stretched skin. Her clothes in the plastic bag they had given her were dirty and looked damp. The clothing she was given would have been a small comfort if the stiff fabric didn't feel so much like her old prison uniform. 

"Fuck," Emma choked out, gripping the chair for support. She felt dizzy, absolutely nauseated at the idea of a baby. Her baby. She was pregnant. Something in her felt warmth at the idea, a strange, creeping feeling of rightness mixed with calm. The rest of her wanted to claw at her skin, urging her to wake up from this horrible dream. 

Every time she closed her eyes, she fervently wished this wrongness was a hallucination. But it wasn't; she was still swaying on her feet every time she opened her eyes again. This wasn't some sort of nightmare, there was a baby, some creature's inhuman child inside her. "Fuck. Fuck!" 

Tears began to prick behind her eyes, her face heating as she sat down on the hospital bed with her head cradled in her hands. 

( You can't cry over this. This happened because of your shady dealings. 

  You got a firstborn child alright. Yours. )

Swallowing hard, Emma tried to banish the thoughts bombarding her. 

( A baby. A baby you can love and hold, who you will never abandon. Someone you can raise the way you weren't, a second chance. Put your armor back on - for you and your child. )  

Emma bit her lip hard, swiping angrily at her tears. Bottling up the emotions, she took a breath, grabbed her purse, and walked down the hallway. To her great surprise, Elsa was waiting. 

"Emma, oh my stars. This is - I have no words. I'm so sorry," Elsa whispered. Emma gave a half hearted shrug, her voice still trembling slightly.

"Yeah. Well. Can I go home yet? That's why you're here right?" Emma hated the anxious, pleading edge of her tone.

"No, not yet. You have to be interviewed by the inspector detective here and then you are free to go." Elsa approached and hugged Emma softly. "I got you a nice one though, he's one of my favorites. Jones. He's an Angel - literally and figuratively. He's saved me on so many cases, I can't help but sing his praise." 

"Oh Elsa. Thank you." Emma hugged her friend tightly, both of them trembling. "I don't know what I would do without you."

Elsa scoffed. "I don't know what anyone would do. Joking aside, we are all going to be here for you, no matter what happens. It's not going to be like last time." Elsa pushed back a strand of Emma's hair, looking straight into her eyes. "You won't go through this alone. We're going to fight for you, and figure this out. Luckily, our major project is postponed anyway. Until they find the Demon Prince, the council is on a hiatus." 

"I just want to go home. I don't know if I can handle everyone right now." Emma mumbled. "It's bad enough David probably knows, which means Snow and everyone else -" 

"Please don't push us away, Emma. We know it's a lot, but going into the unknown like this," Elsa took one of Emma's hands, squeezing it lightly. "Having a family, having faith and love - it's the only way to get through."

"Miss Frost," a low voice called from a room nearby. Elsa led Emma to a small office, smiling at the large Angel who stood on one side of a desk. He returned her smile, until Emma met his eyes. His frown was slow, not suiting his features, even when his blue eyes sharply laser focused on Emma's rotund body. She could see his muscles tense, his golden tinged wings giving the smallest of flutters. "Miss Swan."

"I'll leave you both to it, then." Elsa smiled, inspector Jones weakly returning it as she closed the door to them. 

Emma sat in the only chair on her side of the desk, landing with an audible noise in surprise. Her body was heavier now. Of course sitting felt wrong. Jones grunted before sitting in his chair, his presence formidable even with his wings unopened. He began jotting down notes, not looking up at her for a long, stretched pause of silence. Emma fidgeted uncomfortably, one foot bouncing on the floor. 

"Stop that at once," Liam growled, his eyes narrowed.

Emma stopped, hissing out a nervous laugh. "Sorry, I just -" 

"How did this happen?" Liam interrupted, gesturing at her with clear disgust. "Dr. Mullins indicates it was against your will? You haven't been sexually active to induce conception? Explain."

"Well, I um -" 

"And I must remind you Miss Swan," Liam grimaced, marking something on his paper. "Lying to me is a crime itself. Perjury."

"Yes, I uh - I know." Emma nodded with a gulp. She took a breath, centering herself, and began to tell him the entire story of what had taken place with Gothel. He listened in absolute silence, writing the entire time as his frown only deepened. When she had finished, he continued writing in the oppressive silence, until finally flicking his eyes up to glare at her again. 

"Is that all, Miss Swan?" 

"Yes, then I, um, got the cramps -" 

"Spare me the sordid details of the consequences your illegal activity most likely caused," Liam drawled, sarcastically. He leveled his angry, burning gaze at her, and she felt like an animal being cornered by much larger prey. "Now, I have some questions for you. Answer to the best of your ability, but remember -" 

"Do not lie, yeah I remember," Emma said softly. 

"Who says you Witches can't be taught," Liam sneered, his voice mocking. Emma felt irritation bubble up in her gut, her surprise that Elsa liked this asshole rising. If he was a good inspector, Emma never wanted to meet a bad one. "Now. What exactly did this Gothel ask of you in exchange for her firstborn?" 

"Youthful beauty and a long life, I think," Emma stated, thinking hard. "She wanted to be young forever. I told her that it wouldn't be instant or eternal, that she would have to wait. Now I know why it didn't bother her."

"Did she mention any other rituals, Miss Swan?" Liam asked. 

"No, but she did say that she was in a time crunch." Emma shrugged slightly. "I don't know if that means anything."

Liam looked at her with more vehemence, still writing furiously. "Did you feel any effects at that time?" 

"No, I was surprised I didn't with the amount of magic that detonated. I checked myself twice to make sure, once with a warding bind even." The strangeness of the situation and her clear confusion due to it made her voice sound foreign to Emma's own ears. Did he know how much she didn't want this? "Nothing. Then boom, today I - today this. She showed her true colors at the end, did an evil laugh and everything." 

Liam hummed disapprovingly, looking over his notes. Flicking his eyes back to hers, he glared with contempt. "Let me make sure I have this all correct. So, you and this other Witch do a forbidden and illegal ritual -" 

"I had no idea it was going to be this illegal, I swear!" Emma began to feel panic, her heart racing. "I thought I was helping -" 

"Sure, sure, even though you already have a record -"

"That was - That was different, I was set up and I -" 

"It seems like you are awfully good at being set up, Miss Swan. So what did you get out of this?" The inspector looked at her in disgust, folding his arms against his chest. "A Demon child to experiment on? Heightened powers?" 

"No! No, I had no idea she would - I didn't know - I thought later on that she'd give me her unwanted child. I didn't want another kid to be unwanted. I didn't know the parentage - "

The inspector interrupted with a loud scoff, leaning forward and leering at her. "Likely bloody story." 

"Detective Inspector Jones, I swear to you, I swear it - I had no idea what… I had no idea this would happen. I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted to get pregnant, I still don't know what to do."

"If it is a Demonic child, even only a half-breed, the best thing to do is give them up." Something painful twisted in her gut, a deep feeling of dread and wrongness. 

"I can't, I want to think about it and wait to look at options -"

"You can . You should . It will get easier the longer you are separated from the leeching thing." Liam's sneer turned into a look of pure disgust. "Don't wait, and get it out of you before it completely ensnares you in its unholy thrall."

"It's a child, sir, and my choice. I'm not making any promises -" 

"No Demon has ever been innocent, not even a baby. They are inherently selfish, cruel, and angry. Your mixed breed baby will be the same." Liam looked down at his feet, his fingers interlaced as he rested his elbows on his knees. His voice had lost the cruel edge, and Emma felt her superpower activate. He didn't believe what he was saying, and as she watched him, she noticed how tired he looked. 

"Inspector, are... Are you alright?" 

"Miss Swan," Liam chuckled darkly, pinching the bridge of his nose before glancing up to look at her. "If I was in your position, I would worry about myself, especially if jail time was on the table." 

Emma felt as if he'd slapped her, air rushing from her lungs as her heart beat rapidly. 

"Jail time?" She asked in disbelief, "What about Gothel? Why are you demonizing me -"

"That is government business, Miss Swan." Liam stood stiffly, rummaging in his pocket. He fished out a card, carefully sliding it on the table towards her. "If you remember anything, contact us. Otherwise, we will be in touch. I'll have the nurse give you the proper paperwork and instructional pamphlets."

He turned, pushed the curtain aside, and Emma heard a soft whoosh of air indicating his exit. Looking down at her body under the scrubs, she cursed Eloise with every fiber of her being. 

  ﾟ・.  ｡・. *✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ*⛧*.・｡*ﾟ.★.・.・✫*.・。.・゜

ﾟ・.  ｡・. *✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ*⛧*.・｡*ﾟ.★.・.・✫*.・。.・゜

  The first few nights were a string of blurry, anger, and grief strewn rampages. Elsa has taken her home, Emma unwilling to let David even see her until she had some space to take care of herself. She had sent a text, and after a lot of back and forth arguing surrounding his lengthy replies, David had conceded. 

  (She just couldn't right now. 

Not right now. Not yet.) 

A Celestial, or something similar. Most likely Demon, he had said. 

Gothel had not only gotten her pregnant, but with some Demon child that could be claimed by its monstrous father for who knew what awful reason. Emma shuddered at the thought, hands protectively resting on her small swell of stomach. Pulling them away as they trembled, she cursed her body and the invader that was making her feel so attached to it. Demons didn't exactly get along with any of the other demographics, but Witches and Demons had the most volatile relations amongst any of them. Her own child might grow to hate her, all because of how much Witches persecuted Demon kind. 

She could still… No. She would not terminate the baby this far along. Every part of her vibrated with the wrongness of the very idea, sending her retching into the kitchen sink. She gripped both sides of the basin, crying hot, angry tears as she came to terms with the parasite - the baby, the small baby, the life - occupying her body. As much as she tried to hate it, the only hate she could muster fell on herself and Eloise. 

Part of her felt crazed, crying in her bathtub, nauseated and afraid of every implication and outcome. Laying her head back on the tile, she wondered about what she was going to do. Rubbing her new bump slowly, Emma traced the curve. Sixteen months. A doubly long second trimester, and extended third, all while it changed with her body. Mixed children generally presented like their non-Demonic parent, and the pregnancy bond would be fierce regardless of species. Although it was doubtful at this point it was even in effect despite her behavior and thoughts, Emma smiled at the thought that she already felt attached to her baby. Her own family. 

Her brother was going to go insane, and her sister-in-law… Snow was always supportive and full of a positive outlook. Emma had teased her that it was an Elf thing, but her pointed ears would twitch as she blushed, and she'd mumble something about her plants helping. Smoking her pungent blends of cannabis could make anyone positive, and Emma was suddenly envious. 

Regina and the coven would be on the defensive, taking over everything in Emma's life without quarter. That would be another comfort, their careful planning and patience having gotten her this far through her difficult life. 

In the end, the coven, Ruby, and Snow were over shortly after her emergency summons, flying through her doorway. Ruby was a Werewolf Emma had befriended through Snow. While Regina disliked her, Emma didn't think she was any different than most humans other than her keen sense of smell and bluntness. It was these traits that immediately made it clear what was wrong. It would seem not everyone in their circles knew yet. That would take a few more days. 

“Emma,” Ruby whispered, horrified, her nose wrinkling as tears filled her eyes. “What did… Who did this to you?”

"They think it is a Demon, but it's almost definitely Celestial, or something with a dynamic gestational period due to magic." Just behind Ruby, the rest of the coven began appearing, all staring on her porch as Emma ushered them in. "Until I find out the father, I don't know, although most likely it's Demonic."

Regina's head snapped up. “A Demon? Emma, what do you mean dynamic -”

The women went quiet when Emma lifted her shirt to show them her bump, explaining everything. 

Emma laid her head in Snow’s lap after, feeling numb. Snow stroked her hair gently, looking at the others. Their coven was small, mostly women, but David and two other men were honorary members by means of dating or marriage. Anna picked at her braid, eyes wide, while Belle's mouth was still open from her earlier gasp. Mulan, Regina, and Merida were all business. 

“I'll hunt the Witch and her Demon pet down myself, and bring him back here. We can take turns peeling away his skin -” 

“Mulan,” Merida hissed, her curls bouncing when she nodded her head at Emma, who's eyes were welling with tears once again. 

“I thought… I thought I was doing something good ,” Emma burst into tears, sobbing into Snow, and Belle excused herself to fetch the whistling kettle from the stove. Pouring everyone tea, they tried to figure out what to do. 

“Well, you certainly can't go hunting skips,” Regina scoffed. “And this house, I mean, I get that you fixed it up but it's a dump -”

“Oh! David would be happy to have you back on the farm with us!” Snow lit up, but the thought of being around their saccharine relationship and the smell of incense, patchouli, and skunky smelling herb had her running for the toilet. The others talked and sipped tea, planning out things as Emma curled up on her bath mat. Maybe it was better to terminate, if the leap in growth hadn't made it too late. Would it be better to give it up? Her mind filled with swirling ideas, and Emma let herself get lost in her sadness. 

Ruby snuck in a moment later, sitting next to Emma quietly. 

“So,” she whispered quietly, and Emma cracked open an eye to look at her friend's face. 

“So,” Emma rasped back, her throat raw. 

“Apparently, you're going to go live with Regina in the Guest ‘Wing’, yes, not room, ‘Wing’, and work at one of Belle’s bookstores. I tried to chime in with what your input might sound like. They looked at me as if I'd eaten Anna's familiar. Not like Elsa would let me snack on knock-off Rudolph anyway. Miss Ice Queen has her fancy new council to lord over, so who knows. We could have some reindeer snacks.”

Emma snorted, a smile breaking across her face. 

“Look,” Ruby started, running a hand through her hair to push back her straight brunette style. ”I know how important it was for you to be independent, Emma. I know you really cared about Neal, too. I just… There's something… There's something really off with this situation, and it's not just my nose saying that you smell weird, like dark magic weird, or my gut saying a Witch that makes contracts with Demons for a baby, knocks you up, then just up and vanishes is bad news. I want you to be safe. I called Graham on your telephone, and there's an opening at his precinct I think you might like. It’s mostly paperwork -”

“Rubes!” Emma laughed despite herself. “That's awesome, thank you-”

“Just listen. I want to meet this… Demon. I still have this feeling like something is really off, and you're neck deep in danger. Besides, you know, the Demon part of the situation. Are you sure that you can't remember, er… Well. You know?”

“No, it was literally one minute I was fine, then the next the worst period cramps of my life while I inflated. I was sort of Instant Knocked Up, just add magic or whatever.” Emma rubbed her temples, and Ruby sighed. 

“Well, if it makes you feel better, Granny says that's most likely how I was conceived too.” Ruby flashed her a smile, and Emma laughed, hugging her friend tightly. 

“I don't know what I would do without you, Rubes.” 

“Look, I'm pretty sure Graham isn't into a menage et trois with a preggo, but I'll broach the subject.” 

“You're ridiculous,” Emma laughed. 

“You wouldn't have it any other way.”

  ﾟ・.  ｡・. *✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ*⛧*.・｡*ﾟ.★.・.・✫*.・。.・゜

Months passed slowly as Emma waited for the other shoe to drop. Work at the station was easy, filing reports and making coffee not troublesome at all. Liam apparently worked somewhere in the massive complex, but Emma made no moves to seek him out or head to the detective offices. 

Her house was almost completely redone and brand new; the floors, walls, ceilings, and everything in between redone with the utmost care. 

  ("I refuse to let you live like this and represent our coven," Regina ran a finger along the mantelpiece, grimacing when it came up dirty. "Are you sure that you have to live here?" 

"What Regina means," Elsa shot her a glare as Regina shrugged, rubbing her fingers together, "Is that any of us would love to have you. Don't feel obligated to stay -" 

"But don't feel like you have to leave either. David and I would love to help you fix up the place, maybe have you make a few rooms?" Snow encouraged. David nodded, his arms crossed across his chest. 

Elsa clapped her hands excitedly. "Oh yes, you could make an apothecary room like the one you talked about, and a potion brewing room, a nice place to grow plants, a library -" 

"And we'd all pitch in, if you wanted to make a nursery?" Mary Margaret mumbled, almost shyly. "I wanted to throw a baby shower for you since we found out, but I didn't want to overwhelm you like I feel like I always do -" 

"Too late," Emma gritted under her breath, her friends already planning the event for her.)

  Emma actually had eased into the idea; at first it seemed absurd that they were planning for this when the whole situation was so strange. The father was still unaccounted for, even as the test results made it clear that the baby was of Demonic parentage. Sometimes Emma thought she could feel something, a little tug, the eerie feeling of being watched, or an emotion that wasn't hers flitting through her mind, but she dismissed them easily. More often, she was fascinated by the lack of information on the bond her and this child were supposed to have. 

Pouring over books, it was as if someone had removed or rewritten any passages about Demonic parenting, specifically with a non Demon parent. She had found minor information on the bond in a few books. It was supposed to be fierce, the instinct making women hysterical and unreasonable. It only got more intense when the father was around, cases of actions deemed feral surrounding the mixed couples she had managed to find. All of them had ended in tragedy, and Emma eventually found herself unable to stomach reading about them. 

Or anything really, food was enemy number one on baby's list, unless it was deep fried, covered in sugar, or drenched in sweetness. Without shame, Emma had managed to eat and keep down an entire jar of marmalade with crackers. 

When Snow, Elsa, and Ruby's grandmother had brought up the food options they would make if Emma would let them throw her a shower, she had caved. 

  ( "I will make you a bear claw cake, mini grilled cheese, and onion rings, amongst other things," Granny grinned. "And I will crochet you the most darling blanket for your little girl."

Emma tried not to drool, or give in. "That's nice, but I don't think I want that many people here, you know? That detective is watching my every move, I feel like a whale, I never know which food will agree with me -" 

"And I will make sure I have a never-ending hot chocolate drip for you." Granny's eyes twinkled, full of mischief. "With toppings."

"Including cinnamon?" Emma asked, unable to disguise the longing in her voice. Granny nodded firmly. "How did you know? Wait - did you say a girl -" 

"I just know," she shrugged. "Call it a wolf's intuition." ) 

It was supposed to be small, just a few people and family, but somehow it had turned into a full on social event. Emma was grateful that she had added a few rooms in the days before, the space sorely needed regardless of how drained she felt. Even still, she loved the house. It actually felt like hers, the exposed beams and vintage fixtures mixed with tapestries, framed art, and treasured photos. Her herbs dried above a large sink, food was spread along a long bar and buffet sideboard, and people milled around her living room that she had adjoined to two more exact copies through her doors. 

No need to be original there.

( Her private door stayed tucked away in the upstairs hallway, and it was unable to be unlocked by anyone but her. 

That was more important than a few extra rooms she could collapse after these people were gone. ) 

Emma was a good sport for the first couple of hours, playing games, being paraded around to people who apparently were important in the city, and sipping hot cocoa. Elsa, Regina, Mulan, and Snow were putting emphasis on her innocence, and although it was a spectacle, Emma hoped it would work. 

Two very terrible things ruined her mood. 

At some point, Elsa fell away from Emma's side, returning as cake was being cut. Her face was pinched, irritability written across it as she glared down at the slice she's given. 

"You okay?" Emma whispered, and Elsa blinked, looking up in surprise. 

"Oh, yeah. I just - I thought my date might show up, but he's working." Elsa gritted out the last word, anger seeping into it. "He's on this case, and it's important to him because it's family related, but I want him to understand that I have family too, and I could help if he just -" Throwing up her hands, Elsa groaned in annoyance. 

"I'm so sorry. I don't know anything about -" 

"Emma," David pulled her up by her arm, looking around as if checking for something. "Kitchen. Now."

There's no time to protest, his grip strong and firm, dragging her into the kitchen. 

"David, what the fu -" 

"That detective was here, asking about you," Regina hissed, pointing out towards where guests milled. "We made sure he left, but he was asking questions."

"Questions?" Emma repeated, fear gripping her. Elsa walked in, listening to the conversation beside her. 

"Like, if you had a history of criminality, if you knew and associated with undesirable magic users, if you knew who the father was or were protecting who did this to you," David said. The stillness around them seemed to tense just as they were. 

"If he questions you, you make sure to tell him that you know nothing," Elsa whispered, trying to hold her hand. "Make sure you proclaim your innocence, and he'll believe you, he has to -" 

"You think I haven't tried?" Emma ripped her hand away, looking at all of her friends with annoyance. "I agreed to this not knowing it was going to serve as some bullshit trial ball, where I'd be judged like this. I've searched everywhere for that woman, I have nothing to hide. She's disappeared, and not like a new identity in Guam disappeared, no. Like, off every plane of existence without a trace. It wouldn't matter if I did find her, because this is my kid. The bonds of the spell make her of my blood more and more every day. I can't just go back to the way things were - "

"What about the father?" Regina asked. 

"I don't know. I know nothing about him or why he hasn't come. As far as I know, he might not. I don't know how he couldn't feel these binds. I know I feel something, but it could be because I'm practically mooing, I'm so huge, and I have these crazy urges. The hormones alone here are making me feel insane, even before you started in on me. Even before that asshole showed up because we have the entire damn city here!"

"I told you this was a bad idea, Regina," Snow mumbled. Regina glared in return. 

"We - I just want you to know that no one will judge you for not wanting this, or for giving up the baby -" David said weakly. 

"Shut up David," Emma growled out. Her hands rested against her stomach and she felt like she was going to fall over. "Right now, shut up and do not go down that road." 

"Emma, it's making you feel attached," Regina said gently. "And if I'm agreeing with him, you know I - "

"I mean it, not another word. I'm keeping my baby, that's it. End all, be all. Say another word and I will curse your tomatoes," She pointed at David, then rounded on Regina. "And hex your wardrobe with bleach stains that don't come out. Try me."

"Fine!" Regina threw up her hands while David grunted. 

The kitchen went silent, the tension palpable. 

"We got you a really nice layette," Snow offered, trying to clear the awkwardness while smiling. "Come open gifts, and look at all this cuteness. "

Emma begrudgingly moved forward, her eyes widening at the mountain of gifts in front of her. 

"Don't worry," Anna whispered as she pulled Emma down to sit. "I'm writing your thank you cards for you."

The crowd thinned after gifts, the night trickling on as the house emptied. If Emma had felt drained before, now she felt completely devoid of energy. The small crowd that's left hadn't bothered her, so when Snow and Regina asked her to do another walk about with them, it seemed safe enough. 

She saw him out of the corner of her eye, his head nodding, laughing at something in his self absorbed sly little chuckle that makes her want to break his nose. She must have tensed because Snow was beside her and sucking in breath harshly through her teeth, the coven turning as if they could all feel the disturbance. 

( Maybe they can, maybe the unbridled audacity of this man being here with another woman as he laughs with a martini glass in his hand is enough to share one collective experience of hatred. His eyes meet hers and he gives her a smirk that screams pity and humor at her expense as he lifts his glass toward her, mouthing congrats ) 

A figure cut in front of her, and her rage that feels like a sickening punch in the gut is coupled by this smack in the face - Neal's father grinned at her, his cane on the ground while both hands rest on its handle.

"My my my, Miss Swan," Gold smirked the same smirk that she wants to rip off his face. "When we heard, we were so surprised to not receive an invitation to this… quaint event of yours. Truly poor manners when our covens are no longer supposed to be at odds."

Regina and Elsa were there in front of her in a flash, Snow pulling her away, words being exchanged in hissed tones. Emma could barely hear over her heartbeat, over the sound of her stomach screaming at her to vomit. 

"You can protect her all you want, but we know what she did. We know what it will be," Gold's voice slithered over her skin even in the bathroom. "You can't redeem her, and she will be the reason for all of your downfall. Enjoy your council while it lasts."

David shooed everyone out when Emma hastily retreated, the entirety of her patchwork family pushing inside to comfort her. 

  ﾟ・.  ｡・. *✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ*⛧*.・｡*ﾟ.★.・.・✫*.・。.・゜

After the disaster of her shower, Emma began to feel the strange feeling of being watched even more. It became especially noticeable at night when she rocked in the nursery, sorting out piles of gifts. It felt like a presence sat beside her or hovered over her shoulder, and it began to follow her into her dreams. 

They didn’t last after she woke, glimpses of a mirror, of the sound of pounding, a muffled voice that she can't make out. 

The tip of the weird iceberg happened when Emma had gotten out of the shower, the steam in the room rising to fog the mirror. Dressing in pj's and heading back in to blow dry her hair, she had been dancing along to some new pop song by the Wolves of London, when her eyes caught the words.

On the fog of the mirror, her name had appeared backwards, joined shortly by the word 'Help' in a curling script that she blinked at in confusion before they disappeared. 

( A baby, a Witch, and a Ghost. Just what she needs in the never ending chaos that has become her life ) 

Luckily, the Coven can save her ass again. 

Regina glared at Emma, her judging silence lay heavily over the room. She crossed her arms, eyebrows pinching into further scorn, before asking again. 

"You want me to do what?" 

"Look, I know it's not your favorite thing to do, but you can and I don't have the gift or a guide like you do -" 

"That doesn't make it any easier!" Regina threw up her hands, then gestured to her pantsuit clad form. "It's my body, and my mother is just -" 

"I am begging you, Reg. Begging. You." Emma moaned, irritated. "The father is a complete mystery, there's a ghost in my house that I think has to do with him, and I'm scared it could be someone like…" Trailing off, she chewed her lip. 

Liam's increasing push for her to choose adoption had thrown her off her game these last few weeks, his phone calls almost non stop. In a way, he was right. She wasn't the only parent, and she certainly wasn't ready to be a mom. She was no one, absolutely nothing. It wasn't as if she could raise a baby. 

(Even if she wanted to, and the idea of her baby, her family enveloped in the family she chose and created, it made her feel nothing but happiness) 

Regina rolled her eyes with a huff. "Fine. Fine!" she snapped, slamming her hands on the table. "I do this for you, and you owe me. I expect you to be at my whim for this."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"And I'm not doing it for long." She shuddered. "Every time I check out and she checks in, I feel so just -" She shuddered again, making a gagging noise. 

(Regina had done it before for David and her, to say goodbye to Ruth. It had hurt, hurt so badly, but not as much as Cora cutting the reunion short to tell her daughter to do more cardio.)

"I promise, we find his grandma or cousin or somebody, maybe whoever wrote that on my mirror, get the lead, and we're done." Emma nodded. 

With another sigh, Regina laid her hands over the table, palms up, and Emma laid her own over them. A lavender spark shot from their joined hands to the air above them, Regina's head falling back while purple smoke began to pour around the table, permeating the air. Regina shook slightly, before violently snapping her head forward and blinking. 

"Emma Swan, to what do I owe the pleasure of being ripped from my study?" A higher, nasal, woman's voice spoke out from Regina's mouth. "My daughter feels chubbier, and her skin is just -" Regina touched her face, making clucks with her tongue. "Oh, she is a mess! Did she break it off with that awful Warlock? Ugh, is she stress eating? I try not to pry, but I know she ate at least one slice of chocolate cake when she was out this last week -" 

"Cora," Emma gritted out, closing her eyes in frustration. "Cora, Regina is fine. If she wants to discuss her love life with you, she'll call you up on the Ouija. I need your help to find someone, and I don't know the someone."

"Well, aren't you in a pickle."

"Please Cora, it's not just for me!" 

"Oh, you're not interested in Regina are you? Because you are much too low a class for her breeding -" 

"Oh Merlin, no, no!" 

"What is it then?" Cora sighed in a bored drawl. "I've told you I can't find your family if they don't want anything to do with you, I -" 

"No." Emma let her chest fall, speaking quietly. "No it's not that. I remember from last time and I have a family now." Emma took a deep breath, pushing back against the hurt in her chest. "I need to know… I need to know who the father is, and I'm having trouble. I need you to see if you can reach a relative, or friend, or someone who knows why his offspring is inside me, as well as what it is. I got a visit from a ghost, so here we are."

"Oooooh!" Cora squealed. "An enceinte pregnancy Miss Swan? An illegitimate baby? A haunting? How very risqué and daring on your salary!"

"Cora!"

"Fine, I'll check. I'll want the details of this though, so don't spare any of the juicy bits." Cora winked with Regina's face, before the woman's body went slack. After a minute, her head lifted back up, blinking slightly. "Well, Emma, what a doozy this is. This woman will not stop talking, and it's absolutely ridiculous how impossible she's being, even if she is ancient looking. Yes, I said ancient looking - well don't get mad at me, I tell it how it is - oh, I don't care who your son is, he can't be that grand if he's knocked up this wreck. Sorry Emma dear, I love you, but I mean," Cora shrugged, unabashedly. 

"Cora, ask her what her name is!" Emma hissed. 

"What's your name then? Oh, that's interesting. Not as good as Cora, or Regina -" 

"Cora!" 

"It's Milah. And she's not his mum, she's - oh he's an ex lover of yours? Juicy juicy! Sounds like Emma dear might be getting leftovers then? Oh don't be like that -" 

"I need a name Cora, this is so -" 

"I'm trying Emma dear, the woman won't shut up about her sweetheart. No - Really? The scandal, but - well that is so weird! Milah says that he's been hidden somewhere and no one is haunting you, but… Ugh! She's speaking so rapidly - yes, I get it, but if he wants the kid he would have come to get it, or - I am listening to you, you're not listening to me! A mirror? You should look at one, why do I have to tell her about a mirror? I mean Emma's at most average, and look at her figure now. A child will do that to you." Cora sighed, and Emma stiffened. Cora seemed to nod for a moment, before Regina's face soured further. 

"Don't get smart with me, you may be an old soul but you died far younger than I did!" Cora growled, her eyes slitting at some unseen target. She turned with her head cocked, looking at Emma with pity. "I'm sorry Emma, sweet little duckling, but this woman is a nightmare. She keeps screaming at me about how this Killian fellow is the father, but it's impossible for her to see him for whatever reason. Something about a mirror? She's also absolutely ancient, I haven't seen clothing like that outside of - Pre-Babylon? Is that the robe designer or…? Don't look at me like that miss bed sheet toga, I - Emma, this woman, I swear! It's just incessant chattering, really - "

"His name is Killian? Cora, wait, don't you -" 

"I understand that you were crazy in love with him, trust me, you seem crazy Milah dear. Yes, Killian is his name. A Demon of lust for vengeance. Wow, Emma, what a winner!" Cora snickered, and Emma resisted the urge to shriek. "Well, I don't care if the beast is misunderstood, he's a Demon. How touching, now please - oh come now, Gothel in the tower with the mirror? Red spire, Troll falls? What is this, Clue? Do I look like a detective?" Regina's eyes rolled, Emma desperately trying to remember the snippets that might make sense. Gothel, tower, mirror, red spire, troll falls. Killian. 

Cora grew louder, her voice rising in pitch. 

"Oh, how dare you! I'll have you know your cheap robes aren't exactly chic either; you need a wardrobe update, badly! You look like a ten cent frat party attendee!" Cora spat, and Regina's face pinched tight. "Excuse me? More important things, WELL , I never - Oh you rude little tart, I've had enough!" 

"Please Cora, no, I -" Emma attempted, but Cora flipped Regina's hair back, sniffing with haughty indignation. 

"It'll be alright Emma, duckling. It seems that your little orphan persona is perfect to parent this little babe! Shut up! No, I'm done with you, you crazy broad. Go back to Bed, Bath, and Beyond and buy some new linens!" Cora hissed, her mouth curled in an ugly snarl. "Anyways, Emma, just accept that you can't ruin a child to be like you if you're giving them a home, even if their father is some failed Demon. Or something inspirational, I don't know." She shrugged, Regina's shoulders going up in a blasé dismissal. Her eyes snapped to look behind Emma, her face contorted in rage. 

"Cora. I am begging you - " Emma tried again, but Cora's focus was elsewhere, on someone unheard and unseen. 

"Shut it, shut up thread count Cleopatra!" Turning back to Emma, she smiled serenely. "Tell Regina to summon me later, I need to know how she is. And tell her no more sweets, especially if she ever wants to be a wife. Ta!"

Regina fell forwards, her body shuddering as the lights flickered, purple smoke dissipating into the air. She moaned lowly, cracking her shoulders and neck as she rolled backwards. 

"Dammit!" Emma exclaimed, sitting up and violently stalking to the fridge. "Dammit, dammit, dammit!" 

"Ugh, I can taste her perfume. Bring me a beer please," Regina groaned. Emma pulled a beer and a soda out of the fridge, giving the beer to Regina. "Emma, don't you ever say that I don't love you after that." Regina shuddered again, flicking her hand to open the beer and drinking down half of it in one go.

"I know you do. You just have… You're just abrasive with it. Like a big cat, or an alligator."

(Or a wood chipper wearing lipstick) 

"Shut up, and tell me how it went. Was it worth it? Mother never is, but -" 

"She, uh, well she got me some information to go on. So, that's something." Emma averted her gaze, licking her lips. 

"She talked about my weight, didn't she," Regina sighed. When Emma said nothing Regina drank the rest of the beer and walked to the kitchen, depositing it in the trash. Pulling out a wine glass, she reached under her cabinet and produced a bottle of wine. Emma raised an eyebrow. "Don't even start on me."

"I wasn't going to," Emma whispered. 

Laying her palms flat on the countertop and bowing her head, Regina looked up after a moment's pause. 

"So, what now?" She asked. 

Emma chewed on her lip, thinking hard. "I have his name, or at least I think I do. I think all that's left is to, well, summon him."

(Summon him, and say what? 'Hey, Mr. Demon, I'm having your kid and thought you might like to know', as if it would care, or want anything to do with her...) 

Regina's eyebrows shot up. "Not alone, surely -" 

"No. I would ask Snow, David, and maybe Mulan and Belle. I know Belle would be delighted, and she has the spellbooks."

"That actually sounds like a relatively good plan." Regina nodded, then took a sip of her wine. 

"Don't sound so shocked, Regina." Emma grumbled. 

"Miss Swan," Regina smirked, swirling the wine in her glass before taking another sip. "If you ever cease to stop shocking me with your antics, I'll assume I have gone to meet my mother and maker."

[a-decoy-soul]

You Cannot Cheat Death When It Comes Knocking At Your Door

(Yandere Satan fic)

Chapter 1: A Body Has Been Discovered

“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. Spoken words are far stronger than something as silly as ancestry, and I believe as if our blood calls out to each other, love. So, shall we unite?”

 

~~~~~~~

 

“I’ve been thinking...If all of us were in a horror movie, in what order do you think we’d be killed?”

“Though I don’t support your friendly relations with these demons, I hope you have safe travels, Solomon.” A grumble and a pout was all the small angel responded with, a loyal dog watching as his human left to make friends with the neighbors cat.

 

“Now, Luke, you’ve gotten close to Lucifer and his brothers, there’s no shame in it.” A sweet laugh, as smooth as honey, left the brunette’s lips as he struggled once more to convince the smaller the kindness demons have to offer.

 

Solomon was used to this, Luke time and time again warning him the dangers of dealing with the devil, but he had experience and 72 demons on his side. If there was any human that could handle themselves against a demon it was him. Though as much as he loved having so much power, he had to admit, it wasn’t enough. 

 

Perhaps his need for power was insatiable, or he had something dark in mind, no one truly knew what  he was planning, or how far he’d go to get what he wanted. In fact, he had plans for making more pacts that day, no matter what he had to do.

 

“I assure you, I’ll be fine, Luke. You have no need for worry, I know how to work with demons, you should know this by now. I should get going, I have a feeling something big is about to happen.”

 

With a quick text to Asmodeus, letting the demon know what he was doing in case things went south and he had to summon him for help, the sorcerer walked out of Purgatory Hall.

 

Somewhere in the Devildom, a plan was set into motion, a smirk in a dark room and eyes glistening in the dark with corrupt plans and carnal desires. 

 

After the human left to bargain with the damned, a lesser heavenly body made its way to the door. Raven hair slightly messy, yet still proper, ocean eyes baring a look of infatuation for all to see. As his slightly gloved hand made its way to the handle, he was stopped in his tracks. 

 

“Orion, where are you going?” A voice called out to him from down the dorm hall, with a slight blush on his cheeks he turned to see Luke walking with Simeon back to their own dorm room. 

 

The starry eyed angel looked at the others, knowing he’d been caught in the act of sneaking to the House of Lamentation, a habit he’d made after developing a soft spot for a certain blonde that resided there.

 

“Oh, Solomon wasn’t answering any texts, so I was going to the House of Lamentation to check on him, you know, angelic duties.” He was always an awful liar, whether it be his angel blood or his obvious body language, he was transparent. 

 

“He just left, I doubt he’ll be doing any texting while he’s walking and he never actually said which demon he was trying to pact.” Simeon knew why the other wanted to leave, he’d push aside the fib for now and simply speak to him about it when he returned. “Just tell Satan and the others that I said ‘Hello’.”

 

At the mention of the demon with the golden hair, he turned away, hiding just how his pale, freckled skin burned at his name. Orion could daydream for eons about that man if he had the time, however he only had a year here in the Devildom and while he’d gotten close to him, he still yearned for something more. Something more than speaking about customs from their separate worlds, chatting about astronomy and how beautiful the unknown is, more than sitting in silence as they read together. 

 

Perhaps he was a bit too conspicuous with his emotions, how the other angels could see through him so easily, maybe he’d work on that during his stay. 

 

“R-Right, I’ll let them know.” He used a few fingers to sweep his bangs to the side out of embarrassment, before moving his hand once more to the doorknob, yet again to be interrupted. 

 

He looked down to see Luke’s hand grabbing his arm, a wary look in his eyes paired with a matching frown, his facial expression dead serious. 

 

“Never trust a demon.”

 

Something the fair haired angel said more often than not to all he crossed, yet this time, it seemed to speak differently, causing Orion to freeze in his tracks as he processed why this same sentence sounded so foreboding

 

It wasn’t until a sigh was heard that the trance between the two angels broke. “Now Luke, I really hoped you would have gained a bit more confidence in the brothers after all the things they’ve done for you. You can trust them, they may be demons, but it doesn’t mean they’re vicious.”

With a childish huff breaking the gravity of his words, he walked off with Simeon, both probably speaking a farewell that Orion didn’t hear, his mind elsewhere. 

 

~~~~~~~

“You’d be first, Levi.”

 

“WHAAAAT?!”

 

“Ah, hang on...I figured if I’m in my room the whole time as usual, I’d be able to stay undetected. But in reality, it could actually make it easier for them to find me, huh! I see…”

As he arrived at the House of Lamentation, walking in through the doors, he still couldn’t shake Luke’s warning. Making his way through the halls, he checked his D.D.D for any responses from the demon that clouded his mind and filled his thoughts. As he walked, he looked around, a bit curiously, it was way too quiet for the House of Lamentation, almost eerie. 

 

Just as he was beginning to question the silence, a voice pierced the quiet and he felt a foot step on the celestial cape that trailed behind him, stopping him in his tracks. 

 

“What’s a low rank angel like you wonderin’ around here for? If you’re lookin’ for Satan, he isn’t in his room, said he had to return a few books.”

 

Mammon, Avatar of Greed and the only one annoying and disrespectful enough to step on a holy garment with shoes on just to be a nuisance. Orion pulled his cape from underneath the other’s shoes giving an irritated huff. 

 

“Thank you for informing me, now if you don’t mind I’ll wait for him in the planetarium.” He spoke with a smile, sloppily hiding the slight aggravation that came from the other staining the silk that flowed from his shoulders to the floor. Then ignoring him as he turned and walked towards the planetarium, where he usually found himself drawn to, it was calming there.

 

“H-Hey! You listen here, ya can’t be walkin around like you live here! You’re gonna get in trouble!”

 

The angel simply kept walking, knowing he tended to get in more trouble if Mammon was within 5 feet of him. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to get thrown into any of his antics today.

 

“Whatever, angels are still as stubborn and full of themselves as i left.” The demon mumbled to himself as he walked off, taking his schemes elsewhere.

 

In the planetarium he sat, sighing at his D.D.D. and looking up at the beautiful decor as he waited patiently. He wished Purgatory Hall had this, a place to remind him of where he came from, a place that brought him comfort and peace, the night sky had always soothed his weary soul. 

 

It had only been an hour when he decided maybe he should take a slight nap as he waited, hoping that he wasn’t forgotten about, and admittedly surprised he hadn’t been bothered. As he leaned back in the rosewater velvet chairs and closed his eyes, he heard a silky voice break through his slightly confident exterior, replacing it with an embarrassed and sloppy appearance. 

 

“I figured you’d be up here, I understand if my errands made waiting for me a bit...tiresome.” 

 

There he was in all of his glory, a demon in an angel's body, the most heavenly thing the raven haired boy has seen in hell. 

 

His hair a halo around his head, glowing golden in the light, amber radiating from him brighter than Sirius itself as it flowed through soft wellkept locks. Each strand was a piece of sunshine as it fell in frame with his face, his bangs caressing his skin ever so slightly as they kissed his face. Orion could imagine how it felt to run his fingers through the honey that flowed from his head, perhaps it felt like satin to the touch, gracing his senses each moment.

 

Looking into his eyes was like staring face to face with a nebula. A sense of both fear and awe washed over as sea green waves pulled the angel under, and as the other filled his lungs, he felt a calm saturate him. The northern lights in his the blonde’s eyes were a powerful force, showing emotions and desires despite the strong mask he wore. 

 

Orion sat up and did his best to act like he couldn’t feel the crimson burn his freckles. “No, no. You’re fine, I just figured I’d rest my eyes a bit while I waited and hope that none of your brothers bother me.” 

 

“I’m surprised you weren’t interrupted, my family doesn’t exactly know the meaning of peace and quiet. Though I suppose this is a good place to find serenity. Perhaps we should read here instead.” 

 

The angel smiled at Satan, his eyes glowing with the look of adoration. “That’d be great.”

 

After making a trip to the demon’s room, they returned with a few books, the dim light in the planetarium giving a soothing vibe, perfect for reading or simply gazing at the space themed decorations hanging from the ceiling. Taking a seat, they opened their books, nothing but the sound of turning pages and the water from the fountain maintaining such a zen atmosphere. 

 

Each time they accompanied each other, it seemed like Satan was the only one who could concentrate on the task at hand. Orion was always sneaking glances at the other, wondering what he was thinking about, what his hopes and dreams were, what he would do with all the knowledge he’d stored in his head over the years. A demon who knows more than any human alive, and yet all he craves is more knowledge, though the angel supposed that anyone who had such great intelligence would long for more. The unknown brings out curiosity and draws in all who seek to attain its secrets like a siren song, perhaps that’s why Orion’s eyes couldn’t help but to wander back to this demon.

 

Eventually he would focus on the words in front of him, knowing there would be discussion about it afterwards, it was sort of what the humans called a book club, but with only the two reading their own preferred texts. Slowly the angel’s mind was captivated by the book in his hands, completely ignoring the existence of time itself, all that mattered was the hardcover before him, it’s pages bearing information about the Devildom night sky and it’s wonders. Lost amongst it’s celestial objects, time slipped away from him. 

  ~~~~~~~

 

“So I’d be the first one to get killed, but people won’t find out right away.”

“Levi’s new game shoulda got here by now, he said he wanted to play it with me, but I haven’t got a text from him. He’s been kinda quiet all day hasn’t he?” The Avatar of Greed spoke to himself, walking to his younger brother’s room with an annoyed huff. 

 

“Probably started playin’ it without me that’s what he’s doin’.” As he reached the other’s room, he heard what sounded like game menu music, opening the door with irritation, he was greeted with a sight not too out of the ordinary. 

 

Levi was in Henry’s tank, such an oddly large tank for such a small fish, he never understood it until he started getting in and talking to the goldfish. Being a demon with the build and even features of a sea serpent, he could stay underwater for a while and loved every second of it, especially if they were being spent with Henry. Well, Henry 2.0. 

 

“Get outta the tank Levi, I thought we were s’posed to be playing Bust Sisters Ultra! How am I gonna kick your butt while you’re goofin’ off with Henry?”

 

No answer, no sound, no movement.

 

“Levi? Ignorin’ me isn’t gonna make me leave, I thought you were excited about this?”

 

The second born walked away from the door and closer to the tank. That’s when he realized something, Levi wasn’t even blinking, his eyes frozen in a state of panic. 

Levi was dead. 

 

He couldn’t move, he couldn’t scream for nothing wished to come out, the shock of seeing another one of his siblings unmoving hitting him like a freight train. His brain was pushing through slowly, trying to think of what he should do, he had to do something. Grab Lucifer? He’d know what to do, right? No, he had to get Levi out of there, maybe, just maybe, he still had some life in him. 

 

How was he going to get in? How did Levi even get in? He looked around, his eyes watering up and his vision getting blurry, the world itself seeming to come to a sudden halt, yet he felt like he could see everything turning. As the waterworks started, salty rain dripping from sapphire eyes, clouding his vision as he pressed himself up against the glass. He racked his brain, thinking as hard as he could of how to get in, when he looked at his hands, pressed against the glass. He had to break it, it’d flood the house, but that didn’t matter now, what mattered was Levi. 

 

The snowy haired demon started to shake, shifting his demon form and slamming his fist on the glass, tears continuing to slowly spill as he did his best to break the barrier between him and his brother’s body. First Lilith and now Levi, losing siblings took its toll on the demon, after the death of his sister, never did he think he’d feel such pain again. 

 

With a scream and flash of light, the tank cracked, the water doing the rest of the work, breaking the glass and flooding the room out into the hall. Soaked but determined, Mammon pulled his brother from the skeleton of a tank and held him close, he was truly too late. 

 

Annoyed by the ruckus, Lucifer stormed down the hall, his boots making an audible splash on the water soaked carpet. What in the three realms happened here? A thunderous yell boiled in his chest, waiting to be unleashed on whichever one of his foolish brothers decided to flood the entire hall. 

 

He threw open the door, but stopped in seconds, the sight in front of him shaking him to his very core. Mammon looking up at him, tears falling like rain, and a look in his eyes that he hadn’t seen in millennia. He was genuinely broken, and wrapped in his arms in wings was none other than Levi, his body unresponsive. 

 

Lucifer had lost another one, another one of his younger siblings that he’d done everything he could to protect, cold and dead. There was no yell that came from the eldest brother, he simply trembled like a child, walking to view the body of his lifeless brother. He did his best to stay strong, holding himself together for Mammon, for when the others come in, he has to be there for them. 

 

Everyone had heard the glass crack, that wasn’t something uncommon, they heard the door slam open, that happened all the time. It was the silence after that scared them. Usually Lucifer would let out a loud, “MAMMMOOOOON!” or whomever was responsible would let out a whine at the sight of his anger. But utter silence, that was something that never happened in the House of Lamentation.

 

Slowly, everyone filed down to the hall, the sound of splashing echoing as they followed the water to Levi’s room, all eyes noticing their brother lying stiff, and the strongest of them all hanging on by a thread. 

 

Each brother having a different reaction, all seeing the same scene and reliving past trauma, but all dealing with it so uniquely. It was something the angel wished he never witnessed. 

 

Beelzebub falling beside Mammon, tears filling his eyes as he denied the other’s death, hoping with every fiber in his body that this was all a silly prank. “Levi wake up...this isn’t funny, you and Mammon really fooled us. Now stop this stupid prank, you know this isn’t funny!” He grabbed the third born’s body from his older brother, the other letting him, putting a hand on his shoulder with a defeated look in his eyes. 

 

“He’s gone Beel, this isn’t a joke, I wish it was. I wish it was all a joke but he’s gone.”

 

The glutton continued to shake his head, crying as he held his brother close, his grip gentle and soft despite his strength. In fact it looked as if he was cradling the corpse like a sleeping child, mumbles mixed with hiccups as he tried to keep quiet, as if not to wake him.

 

Asmodeus could sense everyone’s desires in the room, his powers becoming the thing that made him the weakest in such a dark situation. The pain, the agony, the craving for justice and the rising anger and depression filled the tank lit room like smoke. There was one feeling that kept him from being overwhelmed, simply because it stood out from them all. Disgust and pride, a strong desire for the angel that was frozen in shock near the doorframe. His eyes followed this desire, but as he started, the feeling was gone. No, as if he were cut off, perhaps the perpetrator was in this room, lacing themself with a temporary magic, meaning that they possessed power greater than he did. Strange.

 

The blonde’s reaction was perhaps the most calm out of all them, then again, he was always well known for his masked smile. But it seemed even he was shedding tears over the loss of his brother, struggling to keep up the facade he wore, turning his head to avert eyes from anyone as well as the body in his brother’s arms. 

 

Belphegor was the first to break, seeing his twin so upset and sharing his pain, as well as having flashbacks to his little sister arrow ridden, he couldn’t take it. Turning to his eldest brother, he began to shout, “How could you let this happen! You’re supposed to protect us! You lost Lilith and now Levi is murdered in our own home! Who’s to say we won’t all be killed, Lucifer? And you’re powerless and weak just like always!”

 

The room got silent.

 

Orion felt an unease washing over, he shouldn’t be here, he shouldn’t see this. Demons this strong looking like they’re about to shatter like glass, Hell’s finest having tears pool up and drip down their faces as they kneel around Leviathan. He was in shock, whispering in angelic tongue, a prayer and words that just seemed to spill out of his mouth because of his current surprised state. 

 

He shouldn’t have spoken a word, especially not in tongues. 

 

In the blink of an eye Lucifer was in full demon form, slamming him against the wall with a snarl, his eyes betraying the look of fury on his face. His powers making the angel feel like his very soul was being torn apart, the fury of an ex archangel was nothing to laugh at. 

 

“It was you wasn’t it? Does father really wish for me to suffer that he’d send one of his glorified rodents down to take my family away?! Haven’t we had our punishment?!” His words like a frozen blade, cold and cutting deep as the angel struggled in his grasp, wriggling like a worm in a bird's beak.

 

“Lucifer, stop! I understand your anger, but clearly you aren’t thinking straight, do you want another war?” Orion didn’t need to look to know who was speaking, Satan being the voice of reason, knowing that he couldn’t have done it. “He was with me the entire time, let the angel go before you start something you can’t finish!”

 

With a growl, the raven haired demon released the celestial being, turning away from the gazes of his brothers, they all seemed to look up at him in search of command and comfort. Lucifer couldn’t protect Levi, the otaku who’d never done anything wrong, who never left his room. How could he protect them? Who did such a thing to Levi? 

 

Sadly, they didn’t have time to mourn, if there was something there, someone there that could kill their third most powerful, they couldn’t rest until it too was breathless.

[heartofsnark]

This Is Love (Chapter Six):Burnt Offering

Notes: So, given that the last chapter was kind of short, at least by my standards. I decided to go ahead and post the next chapter this month. We're starting to near the point where what I post and where I'm at in writing are meeting up, I have chapter 7 done and am currently about halfway through writing 8,  so don't be shocked if we end up with a slowdown in chapters like what's had to happen with my other fic series. It just happens, such is life. 

Word Count: 9243

Chapter Warnings: Blood, Domestic Violence, Alcoholism, POV Switches, Talks of the Testicle Festival,

For chapter one and the warnings about this fics overarching themes, please click here!

For the previous chapter; click here!

The cruiser door shuts with a heavy thud, followed by Rook’s boots hitting the asphalt. Staci stifles a laugh, the newest addition to the Sheriff’s Department has a pea sized bladder and a penchant for guzzling energy drinks like an idiot. He’s had to pull into the Golden Valley Gas Station for her to run off to the bathroom, again.

His joints pop and crack as he gets out of the car, taking the chance to stretch his legs. The sun hangs high and bright in the great blue sky, warming his skin as rolls his shoulders to get out the kinks. It’s nearly noon and if he has to be here, he might as well find something to eat, the door of the gas station chiming as he walks in. He looks over the hot food options, garbage mostly, but tasty garbage. Hamburgers, pizza, hot dogs-

“You getting lunch?”

Staci jumps at the sudden question, a voice over his shoulder that he wasn’t ready for catches him off guard. A soft laugh as he turns to look at Rook who’s just scared him, sometimes she’s like a bull in a china shop and other times she’s silent as the grave. He can’t keep up and ends up glaring at the smirking woman. She finds way too much enjoyment in his misery, she’s the probie, he’s supposed to be giving her shit not the other way around.

“Someone needs to put a fuckin’ bell on you, I swear.”

“I thought you could ‘hear me coming a mile away’,” she says trying to imitate his voice when he mocked her earlier.

“That was then, this is now, and right now, you’re a sneaky bitch.”

He can’t resist the chance to wipe that dumb little smirk off her face and grabs her cheek between his fingers, stretching the soft tan skin. A small sharp pain in his wrist when she smacks him away, but it’s more than worth it to see her looking a little less cocky.

“Bite me.” She says and knocks against his side as she grabs a hamburger, nearly throwing him off balance.

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Ew.” Rook grimaces at his little attempt at flirting, like an asshole. Then again, with her, she may not realize he was trying to flirt.

He grabs himself one and follows after her to the drinks, he watches her line of vision immediately go to the large sized slushie cups. They’re nearly the size of the short deputy’s head.

“No,” he tells her, voice low with warning, he already has to worry about pulling over  for her constantly.

“What?”

“You drink that and you’re gonna be needing twelve more bathroom trips before our shift ends.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“You nearly pissed yourself, five minutes ago.”

“I’ll be fine.” Rook rolls her eyes as she fills up the giant cup with blue slush. No matter what he says, he swears she’d break her neck just to do the opposite.

They buy their lunches, if it can even be called that, and leave the gas station. The weather’s too nice to eat in the cruiser, a soft breeze and a clear sky to eat under instead.  Staci instead sits on the trunk of the car, balancing his drink on his thigh as he eats. Rook follows his lead, for once since she’s been here, and sits down on the car as well. She pulls one of her legs up onto the car and under her, keeping her drink in hand.

It’s quiet as they eat, but unlike the awkward still of when they first started patrolling together, this silence is surprisingly pleasant.  Staci has never liked quiet, making those first patrols painful to sit through, but their time spent in silence has grown more bearable with every shift.

Rook is weird, but not bad; he’s decided. She’s quiet and serious, especially so at the start. But, she never misses a chance to talk back or give him hell, which might be his own fault.  She’s dedicated to the job and never seems to shy away from what it entails, only ever seeming bothered by the work when she was stuck pushing papers.  Despite her constant scowling and resting bitch face, Rook is eager to help people.

He doesn’t know much about her, which is only natural with her short time with the department and her lackluster communicative skills. She likes her job, Hudson, animals, and giving him hell. She hates crowds, churches, and talking. That’s about all he’s got. And dress codes he guesses? Though since the Drubman incident she’s stuck with modest tanks and tees under her uniform, other than buttoning it up, it’s the same damn thing. Hell, even Hudson and him don’t button it up all the way. 

When she was first hired, the week separating her hire and her actual first day, he asked Whitehorse what he was thinking when he hired someone so young. The sheriff just laughed, saying she had a good heart. He supposes her jumping to help Mary May the day of her interview was proof of that.

There are a lot of reasons why people become cops, not all of them necessarily good or right. Staci himself is exhibit A of that. He’s always been honest with himself and others that he became a cop to get laid, it was nothing short of a whim. Something women are attracted to and didn’t require too much education, so he could avoid debt. No ideas of helping people or delusions of keeping the peace; he chose his career based entirely on the prospect of getting his dick wet.

Hudson is better than him in that regard, well, in many regards but that’s beside the point. But, her choice mostly stems from her family. Almost everyone in her family has had a career in either the military or law enforcement. Her mom is a veteran and her dad a veteran turned police officer, retiring early due to injury.  One of her brothers works as an officer in Billings and the other currently in basic training. It only seemed natural she’d follow one of those paths, becoming a cop because it’s what they do in her family. A fact she’s always taken pride in. 

Danny, not to speak ill of the dead, was probably a hall monitor in high school. He was a stickler for details and rules, he enjoyed being the one enforcing order. But Staci isn’t confident that Danny enjoyed it because he believed in what was best for the public so much as he liked rules for the sake of rules and being the one to crack the whip. It’s strange to say after so many years of butting heads, but Staci misses that asshole. It hit Joey hardest, Danny being her partner, but it hit him too. Danny was with the station since before him or Joey were hired on, for him to just be gone one day… Hope County is a sleepy little place, it can be easy to forget how dangerous this kind of job can be when speeding and hunting violations are the biggest crimes. Danny was a grim reminder and hopefully, the last one Staci will ever get.

“That’s gonna fall,” Rook’s voice cuts through the quiet, her finger pointed at the drink balanced on Staci’s thigh.

“It’s fine,” he dismisses her out of hand, and she rolls her eyes, sunlight making the brown look nearly gold. 

She’s cute, it’s something he’s had to admit, as much as he’d rather not. While he’s always been a bit of a womanizer, it still feels weird acknowledging he’s attracted to his newly acquired pain in the ass. But…Rook is real easy on the eyes. Even with her constant sourpuss of a face, she's cute. Though the rare times he’s seen her smile… It’s a good look on her.  Hell, it's a good enough look that he asked her out on an impromptu date to the F.A.N.G Center the moment he saw it. Though that ended up being botched; the Junior Deputy inviting Joey along and then abandoning them partway through the day.

He’s gotten to spend hardly any time with her outside of work, between that and her never tagging along to The Spread Eagle, a part of him has to wonder if she just doesn’t want to deal with him when she doesn’t have to. God knows, it’s not Hudson, he’s pretty sure Rook would break her neck to spend more time with Joey.

Staci’s mind is drawn back to Rook’s dismissal of his mild flirting, she seemed uncomfortable with Adelaide’s more…forward tendencies too. But there’s no denying she has a huge annoying crush on Joey. Her face going redder than a lobster anytime the two are near each other. He’s asking her on dates without even meaning to and he’s not even sure what way she swings.

“So, what’s your deal?” He decides to just ask, it might be a long shot, but no harm in seeing if he has a chance. Right?

“My deal with what?” She raises an eyebrow and takes another slurp of her drink.

“Well, I know you’re into women; so are you gay?” Rook chokes on her slushie, blue dribbling down her chin as he continues, “Bi? Pan?”  

“What the fuck, dude?!” She yells, scrubbing her slushie covered hand against her jeans, her blue stained tongue catching his eye as she freaks out.

“It’s just a question.”

“A real fuckin’ personal one.” Her face is a vivid red, making her blue chin and tongue stand out even brighter.

“What? You worried ‘cause, ya know, Montana?”

“No, I’m not worried because of that.”

“Good, because I promise you most people here don’t give a fuck.”

“No, it’s not, I just don’t like talking…”

“You can honestly stop that sentence right there.”

“Pff,” she lets out a soft laugh and the corner of her mouth curves up as she says in a gentler voice, “I don’t like talking.”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” He gives her the out and she groans.

“Look, dude, not that it’s any of your business but I barely know what the fuck’s going on in my own head. If I can’t figure that shit out, how the hell am I supposed to explain it?”

“I know you like Hudson.”

“Yeah, I do… I can’t say I’m not attracted to men? I don’t think, I’ve thought men are attractive. I just, women catch my eye more,” she shrugs, face still red, “though I don’t know if that’s because of me or ‘cause of the….selection here.”

“What do you mean?”

She glares at him, dark eyebrows furrowed as if she’s trying to figure out if he’s serious while she slurps on her slushie. He can nearly see the gears in her head desperately trying to turn.

“Dude, seriously?” She asks raises an eyebrow when he doesn’t budge.

“Seriously, you make it sound like the men here are drooling apes.”

“Women in Hope County.”

Rook points out a woman stepping out of her car, long tanned legs and daisy duke shorts.

“Men in Hope County.”

She gestures towards a man at the gas pumps, bent over with his jeans half falling off his ass with plumber crack on display for the world.

It’s his turn to choke, pop catching in his windpipe as her sputters and gags on his laugh, leg jerking and sending his entire drink falling into his lap.

“Jesus fuck,” he manages to cough out as cola soaks his crotch.

“Told you it was gonna fall.”

“At least I don’t look like I blew a Smurf.”

“Fuck off.” She roughly shoves him as they both laugh.

“So, all us Hope County men are just too ugly for you?” He says with mock hurt in his voice as he stands from the trunk, walking around the cruiser.

“Don’t say it like that.”

“No, no, I get it, I mean, how could anyone stand to even look at me.”

“What do you want from me?” She’s glaring at him now from over the cruiser, each at their respective doors as they talk.

“Nah, it’s my cross to bear, I have to learn how to deal with being hideous.”

“I mean, we can always get you a paper bag.” Her face breaks into a smile and she starts laughing halfway through her own joke, blue tongue pressing against her canines.

“Wow, fuckin’ wow, just double down.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“Unbelievable.”

“I’m sorry,” she rolls her eyes, face still flushed from laughing, “for what it’s worth, you’re one of the more attractive guys in Hope County.”

“Thank you,” Staci can’t help but genuinely smile, between the compliment and her expression, something about the moment settles warm in his chest.

“Which is kinda like being a tall dwarf.”

“Fuck you,” his outburst makes her laugh and he can’t help but laugh right along with her, “you can’t let me have anything can you?”

“Nope.”

They’re still smiling, stomachs and cheeks aching as they climb into the cruiser. He turns the key and starts up the engine, pulling them out of the parking lot. The soft tapping of Rook’s finger against the door is the only sound as they drive through the valley. She’s always moving, he’s not sure he’s ever seen her completely still.

The cola on his jeans has barely started to dry by the time the radio starts to crackle, dispatch putting out a call.

“Units please respond, we have a domestic disturbance at the Ramsey Residence, neighbor reported yelling coming from the home and threats of violence.”

The Ramsey place is about fifteen or twenty minutes out from where Benjamin and Julie live. They’re familiar with the Sheriff’s department. He hates to sound so jaded and cynical, but they’ve done this song and dance so many times.  Benjamin has been an abusive drunk since as long as Staci’s lived in Hope County. No matter how many times they cuff and drag him away; Julie refuses to press charges, bails him out, and welcomes him back with open arms. It’s an endless cycle and Hope County doesn’t have the resources to break it. With that in mind, he grabs the receiver.

“Deputy Pratt and Hale responding, over.”

He flips on the sirens, lights flashing and the speaker squealing as they rush towards the Ramsey house. Tires spitting up gravel as he drives along the backroads, following them to the old farmhouse. It was once a beautiful house, he’s sure, but it’s started to fall apart over the years. The white paint peeling and the wood of the porch starting to rot away.

There’s a tension in the air as the deputies get out of the cruiser, grass crushing underfoot as they make their way to the home. Despite being Staci’s subordinate as far as standing in the department goes, Rook is in front of him and taking the lead. Not because he wants her too; she just does that.

The porch lets out a loud creak when the junior deputy takes a step, straining under her weight. That doesn’t bode well for him, while not a particularly heavy guy, he’s over a foot taller than Rook and fit. She may have muscle mass, but he’s sure he still weighs more at the end of the day. 

“You might wanna be careful,” she warns him, standing next to the door, clearly having gone through the same thought process as him.

“Yeah, this porch has seen better days.”

It strains and creaks, echoing a louder under him as he takes the steps up. Then his foot goes through the porch. He curses as he starts to fall through, broken rotted wood splintering into his jeans and boot. A hand wraps around his wrist, Rook steadying him as gets his bearings. He grips the railing as he his rips his foot back out of the wood; breaking and ripping apart boards with the force of it. The smell of mildew, rotted lumber, and muck getting kicked up from it.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

He has to shift back onto the steps that were able to hold him, he could step over or around the broken gap, but the chances of it just breaking through again are high. Rook lets go of his wrist once he’s on stable footing and turns back to the door. She knocks on the door three times, before calling out.

“Hope County Sheriff’s department, we got a call, just here to make sure everything’s okay.”

There’s no response, of course they’re in no rush to open the door for police. A beat of silence  and then something breaks from inside the home, like glass crashing to the ground.

“You ever deal with them before?” Rook asks as she tries to open the door, but it’s locked.

“Plenty, he always has to be taken kicking and screaming. ”  

“Is he dangerous?” She’s slid a pick into the door lock, twisting and turning it. Why the hell does she know how to pick locks?

“Only to his wife, every time I’ve dealt with him, he’s no worse than a drunk toddler.”

“Hmm,” she nods in understanding, “go around back and see if there’s a back door or something, we can’t take anyone out this way. I’ll head in.”

“Since when do you give the orders, probie?”

“Pratt,” she says his name like a warning, just as the door clicks open. She’s right and he Staci knows that, but that doesn’t mean he has to like being bossed around by the probie he’s supposed to be teaching the ropes.

He waves her off and goes walking around the house, all this trouble and splinters in his shin over some damn drunk who should have been locked away years ago. There’s a set of concrete stairs up to the backdoor, not attached, but sturdier than forty-year-old rotted wood. He shakes the backdoor and finds it’s locked, because of course it is.

Staci slams his shoulder against the door as he hard as he can, putting all of his weight into it. The lock and frame give out from the force, a boom and splintering sound ringing out.

“Fuck!”

It’s Rook’s voice, no mistaking it, a groan of pain punctuating the curse. Staci’s blood runs cold and he runs into the house; feet hitting the floor in heavy thuds as he runs to where he heard the sound. Nearly tripping over himself as he enters the living room.

Adrenaline coursing through him, Staci recognizes two figures instantly as he enters. Ben Ramsey standing over a curled up figure dressed in the familiar green of their uniform, blood is on the carpet, soaking it through.

Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! What’d he do? What did that son of bitch do to her?

From his angle, Ben’s back to him, Pratt can’t make out anything other than her fallen body. He can’t tell if she’s breathing, if she’s moving, where the blood is coming from, if she’s even alive.

Words stick in his throat and his mind only spins curses, his hand pauses, body frozen. Only a moment in reality, but in eternity to Staci; just enough time for the old drunk to pull his leg back and slam a boot into the young deputy on the ground. A sickening crack and curse from the young woman.

And for the first in his career, Staci pulls his gun out. It may be too quick of a move and maybe in the hours after he’ll think of how he should have gone for the baton or taser, but his hand is on his gun. Pointed at another human being. There’s a shake to his hands.

“Ben Ramsey, you’re under, under arrest! Put your hands up!” His words stall for a moment and he curses himself for the way fear seeps into his voice at the worst times.

“Fuck you-“

His words are cut off by a yell, Ben’s body convulsing for a second before he hits the ground with a heavy thud. Rook taser in hand moving as it happens, quickly cuffing him, and Staci can breathe again. He’s not going back to the station alone. The side of her head is stained with blood, hair matted in it, her left eye shut and that half of her face red. Her nose and lip are busted open, blood streaking down her chin.  She’s hurt, but she’s alive. His head is swimming, drops his grip on his weapon, his shoulder aching and making him realize just how tense he was. He’s not even certain his finger was on the trigger, he realizes as he holsters the thankfully unused gun.  Her lips move over and over again, but the words don’t cut through the fog of his brain until another moment passes.

“Pratt, radio backup, now!” Her hands are on the man’s cuffed wrists, keeping him in place on the ground, subdued for the moment as the man’s thankfully still dazed from the shock.

He’s hesitated, his delay to grab his radio no doubt wasting precious seconds. Why does he always fucking hesitate? He’s tripping over his words as he talks, because of course he is.

“Officer Pratt, we need backup and, and emergency services to the Ramsey house, immediately. Officer injured, suspect is belligra-belligerent and dangerous.”

“Suspect’s wife is injured as well.”

There’s more than three people in the room, Julie Ramsey curled up in a ball beside the couch, sobbing desperately at the entire scene. He didn’t even notice, fuck, he fucking hell.  He gives the exact address and gets confirmation that someone is coming.  Staci crouches down, closer to Rook’s level where she’s kneeling next to the suspect, he’s able to get a better look at Rook’s injury. He can smell beer, both from the suspect and from her head, shards of brown glass clinging to the blood-soaked skin. He bashed a beer bottle over her head, then kicked her in the face while she was down.

He needs to get something to hold against her head, to help stop the bleeding. Staci’s starts to move to get his overshirt off, thinking it’d be better than nothing, but then sirens screech at them. Police officers for the station and EMTS coming through the house. It’s going to be okay.

No thanks to him. He did nothing. He wants to pull his hair out, scream at himself, why the hell is he this fucking pathetic?

Ben Ramsey is arrested and charged, taken to one of the officer’s police car. Meanwhile Julie and Rook are assessed before being taken to the back of ambulance. Staci follows them, moving on instinct to follow and make sure Rook is okay.

He doesn’t speak the entire way, just grateful to be allowed in the ambulance, he listens as they access her. Lacerations, contusions, possible skull fracture; the words swim around his head as they look her over in the ambulance. He watches as the EMT forces Rook’s left eye open, seeing why it’s been shut, blood vessels damaged across part of the white, red irritation in the other half that goes into the brown, blurring the edge of the iris.

Ideas of her losing vision in that eye flood through his mind, how severe is the damage, could it impact her career? Is she going to be out of here before she’s even finished probationary hire? He was supposed to be looking out for her.

He sits outside her room at the Hope County Clinic, privacy or some sort of doctor crap, he can barely even remember the rest of the ride there. His back against the wall as he sits on the floor, ringing his hands, mind racing through a million possibilities. 

“What the hell happened?” Whitehorse’s voice is what ends the frenetic mess in his head, if only for a second. The presence of the sheriff easing some of his nerves, knowing the older man will be able to handle this, whatever the situation may be.

He scrambles to his feet and explains everything that happened; from the porch falling in, him pulling his weapon but not firing, and an injured Rook having to subdue the suspect. Each word of it making him feel just a bit more pathetic, a bit weaker, he really fucked this up.

Whitehorse squeezes his shoulder, a warm heavy hand to comfort him.

“It’s okay, Pratt. Everything is gonna be fine, Rook’s made of tougher stuff than this.”

He sighs, unsure of how he feels by the statement. It’s meant to comfort him, and it does some part of him. He wants Rook to be okay, fuck does he need her to be okay.  But, Whitehorse’s unwavering faith in her strength, makes him feel all the more pathetic in comparison.

The hospital room door opens, a doctor walking out, looking over at Whitehorse and Staci.

“You can come in now, if you’d like.”

Staci follows behind Whitehorse as they walk into the little clinic room, off white walls and floors greeting them. Rook’s sitting on the side of the white sheeted bed; seeing her cleaned up and moving is instant relief for Staci’s frayed nerves. Her face is bruised, her eye still messed up, but she’s no longer painted red with her own blood. His hands twitch, he realizes he wants to hug her, to pull her close and feel that she’s truly okay. But he can’t find the nerve to do it, unsure of how the young woman would react. 

“So, what’re you dealing with?” Whitehorse asks her and she sighs. 

“Needed some stitches, some glass scratched my cornea so vision in this eye is gonna be a little blurry, but it will heal. Minor skull fracture.” 

“Skull fracture?” Staci can’t help but blurt out, that’s  bad, isn’t it? Skulls are kind of important, being the thing that protects your brain. Why the hell is she just shrugging it off?

“It’s not bad, they don’t do anything for it. My head is gonna hurt like hell for a bit,” she shrugs, “if spinal fluid starts coming out my ears and nose, call 911, though I think that’s the rule for everyone.” 

“Alright,” Whitehorse speaks up, “there’s gonna be some paperwork to take care of with your injury and your time off.” 

“I’m not taking time off.” She’s emphatic, shaking her head like the sheriff is ridiculous to even suggest something like that. 

“I’m not sending you out like this, Rookie, you need to worry about healing up.” 

“You want me to take time off, during my probationary hire, that’s ridiculous.” 

“Don’t stress, it’s not going to affect anything, just take two weeks off-” 

“One week, max.” 

“Fine, one week," Whitehorse gives him with a hefty sigh, "just take it easy. And actually take it easy, not doing anything to hurt yourself in the meantime.” 

“Pfff,” she huffs out a breath and rolls her eyes, hopping up from the bed. 

“We’ll go back to the station and take care of the paperwork.” 

Whitehorse puts a hand on Staci’s back; the other on Rook’s as he walks them out the door. Staci feels exhausted as he gets into Whitehorse’s truck with them, someone having taken the cruiser back to the station for them. His body slackening into dead weight as he leans against the door; his nerves are shot to hell and back, he just wants to collapse after everything. She’s okay and that’s what matters most; his own insecurities be damned. 

They arrive at the station; since it’s regarding just her injury and leave, Staci isn’t needed for the paperwork on this one. He instead waits outside, he’s not sure why, but he doesn’t feel ready to just go home yet. It’s after shift and usually he’d be at The Spread Eagle by now, sipping cheap beer and shooting the shit with Joey. 

Speak of the devil, the older  deputy is coming down the hall, nearly jogging towards him. And he’s wondering if she’s felt the way he did when he heard something happened to Danny, before they told him about the former deputy’s death. That anxiety of knowing something is wrong but not knowing the details, fear building ideas of what could have happened. 

“What the hell is going on?” 

“Rook got hurt, she’s gonna be okay, but, uh, Whitehorse is giving her the week off.” 

“Thank god,” Joey lets out a sigh of relief, tension noticeably leaving her body, “I thought, jesus, I don’t know what I thought.” 

“Yeah, uh, been a rough day…” 

“How you holding up?” 

“I fucking choked, Joey. The asshole was trying to kick her damn brains in and I choked.” 

“You can’t blame yourself,” she tells him, a faraway look in her eye, “I get it, I do, but you can’t blame anyone but the asshole who hurt her.” 

“It's not just that…” He sighs; is he really going to have this conversation? It feels so damn pathetic. 

“So, what is it?” 

“I...don’t worry about it.” 

“Well, I’m certainly not gonna complain about skipping the feely talks. But, uh, for what it’s worth, hindsight is twenty-twenty. Beating yourself up over what you should have done, what you wish you’d have done, is pointless. You do your best in the moment and it’s all you can do.” 

“I guess…” 

“So...how this affect your little crush on Rook?” She asks after a beat of silence, trying to turn the conversation light-hearted.

“Ugh, don’t call it that. The only crush around here is Rook’s on you.” 

“Yeah, right. You got it bad and we both know it.”

“I might have asked her if she’s gay.”

“Seriously, Pratt?” 

“What,” he says halfway through a laugh, “she always follow you around like a puppy dog, I had to make sure I even had a chance.” 

“Well, do you?” 

“Maybe…if she stops crushing on you.” 

“Eh, that’s nothing, she’ll be over it before you know it.” 

“What makes you so sure?” 

“The only reason she’s like that with me is ‘cause she thinks I’m pretty, it’s completely superficial, like a little kid.”

“Well, do me a favor and stop being pretty?” 

“No can do, you just gotta sack up and ask her out.” 

“‘Cause the F.A.N.G Center went so well.” 

“Okay, so ask her out and this time, be specific and talk slow.” 

“She’s oblivious, not brain damaged.” 

“Ehhh, debatable.” 

He thinks for a moment, he likes Rook, he does. She’s cute and spending time with her is nice; being able to tease each other has made his job way less mind numbing. Relationships that go beyond the bedroom have never been his forte; it’s honestly been a while since he’s been on an actual date. But, he thinks it could be nice with her. There’s no telling if they’d actually click romantically, that’s not something you find out until you try it. It could be worth a shot. 

But he thinks about today and thinks about the future for a moment, something he’s not fond of doing. Rook is still on probationary hire; who’s to say she’ll be here after the six month period. He doubts Whitehorse will get rid of her, maybe due to her age, he handles her with kid gloves and he’s always been a bit soft as far as sheriffs go anyway. But,  it’s always a possibility if she crosses too big of a line or does something unforgivable. 

Hell, she might decide she wants to leave, might realize Hope County is just not the place for her and head back to Louisiana. 

 At the moment he just likes her, nothing intense, nothing he can’t deal with losing. If he found out tomorrow she was fired and leaving, he’d be bummed sure, but he’d recover relatively quickly. But if they started dating, if it worked out and one date led to another. If they hit it off, meshed as well as he thinks they could and that ‘like’ grew into something more and then she had to leave... 

“Once her probationary hire is over, I’ll do it,” he says out loud, committing himself to the action in front of Joey. Once that threshold has been crossed, once he has a little more reassurance that he can pursue Rook without fear of her leaving, he’ll go for it. 

“You sure you can hold out that long?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You tell me, Mister asked her out on the first day.” 

“Shut up.” 

Dahlia signs the last of the paperwork, her hand cramping, all of this fuss because someone hit her with a beer bottle. She’s still sick from the idea of having to take off a week, better than two, but she’d rather just do her job. So, her vision in one eye is a little blurry and her head hurts like crazy, big deal. 

“There’s something else to address.” 

“What’s that?” She raises an eyebrow at Whitehorse, let her out of paperwork hell, please. 

“It’s up to you if you want us to press charges against him for assaulting you.” 

“Oh.” 

“If it matters, we’ve dealt with Ben a lot, he’s been beating his wife black and blue for years. But, she’s never willing to press charges and nothing’s been severe enough to bring him up on charges from the state.”

“Let’s do it, then.” She’s not sure how much it will help, without counseling and after care, who knows if the cycle can break. But, if she can get the guy put away, it will at least give her a chance to get out without fear of repercussions. 

There’s some more paperwork associated with that, filling out a statement and the like. But, that’s more than worth it. She finishes it up and is massaging her hand to help alleviate the muscles that are cramping in distress. 

“Also-”

“If I have to sign one more piece of paper, I’m gonna kill you.” She cuts him off and earns a chuckle in response. 

“No, I just wanted to tell you, hell of a job, today.” 

“All I did was get beat up.” 

“You were in a high stress situation and you resolved it as best you could, you subdued him without deadly force, and showed you know how to handle yourself.”

“The standards are low, aren’t they?” 

“You did good, be proud of yourself for a moment,” he tells her, squeezing her shoulder as he passes by.  Her heart warms at the gesture, he thinks she did good. Despite being stuck taking a week off, he still thinks she did well. 

Hands in her pockets, she’s grinning as she leaves the office, Hudson and Pratt are just outside; talking about who knows what. They’re usually off drinking right now, but he seemed freaked out about her injury, maybe he’s trying to make sure she’s okay. She’d appreciate it if that were the case. 

“Hey, Rook,” Hudson greets her, bright smile, and Dahlia gives a small nod of her head. Unable to force words out of her throat. 

“Everything taken care of?” 

“Yeah...guess I’ll get to see you guys in a week,” she grumbles, still upset about it. 

“Hey,” Hudson stops her before she can leave, “why don’t you come out to The Spread Eagle with us?” 

“You know I can’t drink, right?” 

“They serve water and pop,” Hudson says, shrugging. 

“Um, okay…”  Dahlia scratches sheepishly at the back of her neck, she gets to go out with them, her heart is warm. Between Whitehorse’s praise and being invited out with the other deputies, this is a pretty good night. 

“Is that why you weren’t tagging along with us?” Pratt asks as they start to head towards the door. 

“I didn’t know you wanted me to tag along…” 

“Oh my god, you awkward little disaster.” Pratt ruffles her hair as he insults her and she playfully smacks his side, happy to see him joking around again. 

The neon sign of The Spread Eagle flickers above Dahlia’s head as they walk to the old bar. It’s cheesy and ridiculous the logo of a scantily clad woman with she assumes eagle wings.

 “So, I'm gonna live my life like it's my last damn night.”

“Cause when the clock strikes twelve, we're all gonna go to hell”

 The jukebox and lowlight greet them, people spread around drinking at the bar and cozied up over the wooden tables. A little stage in the corner for those nights when they have live music. Behind the bar, Mary May works away at getting people their drinks, honey blonde hair tied up in a bun and her flannel’s sleeves pushed up to her elbows. A window behind her shows a glimmer of the kitchen, an older man with dark hair slaving over the orders.

“You’re late,” Mary May teases Hudson and Pratt as the deputies all grab seats at the bar, Dahlia between the two of them.  

She’s never sat at a bar before and something about it feels decidedly mature to the young officer. That is until she can barely climb up there and unlike her two coworkers, her legs aren’t long enough for her feet to comfortable rest on the ground or even part of the stool. Her legs left to swing like a child’s.

“You can blame the probie for that one.” 

“I’m sorry, I’ll try not to get my ass kicked in the future.” 

“You finally gonna get your round of free drinks, hero?” Mary May asks her, a slight smile on her face and dear god, why must the women in this county be so pretty? The apples of Dahlia’s cheeks are growing warm. 

“‘Fraid I can’t, still got a year before that’s legal,” she says, never mind if it’s maybe a bit closer to a year and three months. 

“Well, a free meal it is then.” 

“No, no, I can’t do that,” She quickly dismisses the idea, local businesses tend to need every dime they can get, she’s not letting Mary May cut herself short just because Dahlia did her job. 

“Seriously, if it weren’t for you, I’d be shut down for the month, it is the least I can do.” 

“Give it up, Rook, she’s not gonna budge,” Pratt tells her. 

“She’s stubborn as a mule,” Hudson warns. 

“You heard them, cowboy, your money’s no good here.” The cowboy nickname is a new one, but Dahlia doesn’t mind it, or the way it makes her smile. 

“Fine, free meal, but I’m tipping.” 

“Okay, okay, I can work with that.” 

Hudson and Pratt get cheap weak beers and Dahlia gets a pop as they look over the food options. Everything makes her stomach growl; desperate for something more than convenience store food or microwave meals. There’s a sign below the window into the kitchen, saying they deliver, she wonders if the trailer park is too far away for it.

She decides to try something she’s never eaten before, a burger with huckleberry barbecue sauce, never having heard of the condiment before. Orders in, she can’t help but look around the room, taking in the decorations. Newspaper clippings beneath a neon blinking sign for Lease Lager, a little flag for Hope County Cougars, and a smaller flyer advertising something she’s seen billboards for all over; the Testicle Festival, advertised with a little screaming cartoon bull.

“The fuck is a Testicle Festival?”

“Pffff,” Pratt laughs and chokes on his beer, pulling it away and licking the beer away from his lips. Hudson cracks a big grin, pressing a hand to her mouth to hold back chuckles.

“I mean, it’s basically exactly what you sound like,” the older woman says, shrugging her shoulders.

“People get together and eat bull balls,” Pratt adds.

“Willingly?”

They both laugh as Dahlia looks at them wide eyed, that’s so fucking gross, why the fuck would someone eat that? She’s never been one to turn her nose up at any meal, but that so disgusting, her stomach churning at the very idea.

“Yeah, it’s a thing, I, don’t know what to tell you.”

“Montana is gross…”

“Oh, shut up, I’m sure they eat gross shit in Louisiana too.”

“Not really,” she shakes her head at Pratt, trying to think of the weirdest food she’s ate, well weird to them, “I mean, I’ve had alligator before.”

“You’ve ate alligator?”

“Yeah.”

“And you don’t think that’s weird?”

“I didn’t eat it’s balls!”

They cackle and laugh at her outburst, she’s joining along before she knows it, face flushing as she cracks up. She barely can remember the ache in her head or the blur in her vision, the more painful moments of the day forgotten as she loses herself in dumb banter and jokes. The burger is incredible, she’d lick the plate clean if she wasn’t in public. Hell, that fact is barely holding her back. She’s not sure how many colas she’s drank her way through, but at some point, her bladder is screaming at her.

“Let me guess, you gotta piss,” Pratt taunts her, reminding her of their little bickering match this evening, she’s an adult she’s allowed to piss.

“Fuck off.” She grabs a grimy fry off the ground andt she drops it down into his beer as she walks by.

She uses the bathroom and washes her hands, catching her reflection in the bathroom mirror as she does so. It’s the first time she’s got a proper look at herself since she was beat up. Stitches over the laceration under her eye, the skin bruised, the white of her eye purple with busted blood vessel with the brown of her eye blurring into it. An absolute mess and she grins.

There’s something fulfilling about getting in a fight, not starting but, making it through one.  Having the marks to show it, knowing she held her own. Whether it was fights in school or when she’d fight back against her step-father, no matter how it ended up, she’d feel proud of herself. Whether because she fought back or simply because she survived. The aftermath was nothing more than a badge of honor marking what she went through. She’d take a thousand more stitches and bruises over the week off, if she’s being completely honest. Dahlia leaves the bathroom once her hands dry, shoving them in her pocket as she goes.

Oooh, oooh, ooh~

If I told you a lie, you could smile, my love.

You’d never understand.

The jukebox hums and Dahlia finds her eyes looking around the room, taking in the faces of the patrons. A shift of a door and the step of boots draws her eyes towards the door. Her breath catches in her throat, what the hell is a Seed doing here?

John Seed, the youngest of the brothers, is walking through the door. All of the siblings make her uncomfortable in some fashion, largely to do with their religiosity, but then they each have their own unique brand of unsettling. John reminds her of a sleazy car salesman, too sharp smiles that don’t reach his eyes. Even when he shook her hand at the church, something about him felt off, like he’s wearing a mask but she can’t quite tell what’s under it.

If I told you a tale, you’d cry, my love.

You’d never hold my hand.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Mary May yells over the bar, when she sees him.

There’s a glimmer of something in his eyes when he looks at her, not unlike a cat finding a mouse to tear apart.  He strides to the bar with purposeful steps and he smirks, but unlike those salesman smiles, it reaches his eyes.

“I just thought I’d check in,” his eyes lazily scan the room, looking at the beer bottles and glasses of whiskey in patron’s hands, “do we really need to have this conversation again?”  

“It’s a bar, the hell you expect me to serve?”

“I expect,” John puts his hand on the bar with a sharp sound, “you to listen to reason and start to understand your position.”

“Is something wrong?” Dahlia’s question escapes her without another thought, everything about John’s body language putting her on edge. 

When it all bleeds out, you don’t know.”

When it all bleeds out.

John’s eyes leave Mary May and land on Dahlia, those piercing blue eyes cutting through to her core. He looks her up and down, as if she’s the mouse now. But she doesn’t shrink away or avoid his gaze, unwilling to show any signs of backing down in the face of his intensity. 

Wake up, little man.

Don’t you break her heart. 

“Dep-yoo-tee,” John speaks in a low drawn out way, emphasizing every syllable with the slow drag of his gaze on her.

“Stay out of it, Rook,” Pratt warns her as she walks past him and Hudson at the bar. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, why the fuck would she stay out of it? Supposedly, John already tried to get members of Eden’s Gate to steal Mary May’s alcohol shipment and now he’s showing up to push her around; fuck that shit.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Oh c’mon, little man.

Don’t you fall apart. 

“I was just trying to have a little talk with Mary May, though she’s never been one for civility. More importantly, what happened here?”

He reaches out towards her face and she flinches out of reflex, John’s fingers grazing her bruised cheek before she smacks his hand away. Not sharp enough to truly hurt, but enough to force him away.

When the devil’s got you, but only by the hand. 

“Hazard of the job and, please, don’t touch me.”

John’s eyebrows furrow, eyes growing dark and face scrunching for a moment in anger before he forces a soft smile. It doesn’t touch the stormy look in his eyes; another little mask hiding whatever’s lurking beneath the surface.

Let go, little man.

Let go, little man.

“Ah, you poor thing, you” his voice deepens with concern, but it feels more like pity. He fidgets with his sleeves and lets out a sigh, irritation seeping through the false concern. She has to resist the urge to smile, something satisfying in seeing his true emotions bubbling up.

“It is what it is, are you done with your ‘little talk’ now?”

His nostrils flare and he bites his lip, it feels like poking a bear, but she’s having fun with it. He gives another fake smile and she wants to wipe it off his face.

“With Mary May, yes, but I was hoping to speak with you more. Though,” he looks around, “this is hardly an ideal setting. Have you given any more thought to tomorrow?”

“Like, I said before, I have to work,” she says the white lie and dismisses him with a shrug, hopeful it will appease the Gucci wearing gremlin in front of her.

“You know, it’s not often The Father goes to the trouble of inviting someone himself,” he tells her, as if it’s meant to entice her. Instead the title ‘The Father’ just makes her skin crawl, not unlike the title her step-father took on with his own church. As if she needed more reasons to avoid these people.

“What are you talking about, Rook? You got a week off for your injury, remember?”  Pratt pipes up and Dahlia’s blood runs cold, why the fuck would he do that to her? Why would he do that? John’s eyes go bright and a sly smile stretches across his face.

“Wonderful, I’ll see you there, dep-yoo-ty, service begins at nine in the morning.” John gives her arm a hard squeeze before he leaves, Dahlia’s skin crawling beneath his touch. Empty air where he once was within the next moment.

Yeah, I vow to the moon, yeah, I howl at the wind.

I’m bleeding and I can’t stay clean.

 She’s expected to come to the service, dear god. The air is punched out of her lungs. Even being outside of a church put her nerves on edge, she’s not sure if she could step foot in one without getting sick.  She moves behind Pratt and puts her hand on his shoulders.

“Hey, Rook, what are you-uuck-” Pratt’s words cut off as she moves and wraps her hands on either side around his throat. Not hard enough to genuinely hurt him, but enough to feel it as she shakes him and pretends to wring his neck .

“Why the fuck would you do that?!”

“It was funny,” he defends himself when she lets go and throws herself onto her chair, bringing one foot up into the seat as she leans back. Her body going slack with exasperation, she’s seriously going to have to go church?

“I fucking hate you, I actually fucking hate you.”

“God, you’re dramatic. It’s church, not like I volunteered you for a root canal.”

“I’d rather have the root canal.” She tosses her head back with a sigh, staring at the ceiling. Pratt doesn’t know her issue with religion, she knows that, so she can’t truly be angry at him. But, fuck, would it have killed him to keep his mouth shut?

“Well, I think I should probably get out of here before Rook kills me,” Pratt says as he pays for his meal and drink, standing up from his seat.

“I’m gonna head home too,” Hudson stands up and ruffles Dahlia’s hair, “cheer up, Rookie.”

Dahlia doesn’t even have the energy to get worked up about Hudson’s touch, peacefully letting the casual touch come and go with a mere blush. Then the two have left and Dahlia is trying to gather the energy to get up, with the looming reality that she’s expected to go to church in the morning, she no longer wants this night to end.

“Deputy,” Mary May says after a moment, baby blues watching Dahlia sigh and rub a hand down her face.

“Hmm?” Dahlia straightens her posture enough to look at Mary May properly, realizing how somber the bartender’s expression and posture really is. The blonde chews her lip, looking away, visibly searching for her words.

“Eden’s Gate has been in this county for a long time, hell, I was in high school when they moved in on us. They started buying places out left and right, they own half the damn county, now.”

“They have that much money?” Dahlia can’t help but ask, aren’t churches relatively low profit ventures, assuming you aren’t selling snake oil or asking people to donate money for Jesus.

“Got that much money, that much power, and they know how to twist the law to suit their needs. They want the entire county and everyone in it under their thumb…”

Her knuckles whiten as she grips the edge of the bar, a far away look in her soft blue eyes. Dahlia puts her hand over Mary May’s, hoping the warmth of her touch can help ease the sting, even if she’s not sure what’s hurting the blonde. It’s enough in the moment, it seems, Mary May looking up at her and giving a soft smile, speaking again after a beat of silence.

“You’re one of the few people around here who’s not rolling over and letting them do whatever the hell they want. I don’t wanna see that change. Just do me a favor, don’t drink the Kool-Aid.”

“Look at me,” Dahlia looks directly into Mary May’s eyes, “I’d rather play jump rope with my own intestines than join a church.”

“Good.”

Mary May is satisfied with that answer, smiling as she’s called away to get someone else a drink. Dahlia’s not sure what the history is there with her and John, but clearly something has happened. Other than the Eden’s Gate members stealing alcohol and Lonny’s asshole behavior, there’s not conclusive evidence that they’ve done anything more than petty theft. John’s opinion on Mary May selling alcohol, supporting that he might ask them to do that. Otherwise, anything else is just bad feelings and hearsay. She wants to trust they’re good people, just staunch in their beliefs and a little strange, always wanting the believe the best of people. But, she’s going to be sure to keep an ear to the ground and stay wary of them, knowing she’s apparently not the only one concerned about their shit.

Dahlia shakes her head and gets out her wallet, getting out enough for the meal and then some, calling it all a tip for the sake of getting past Mary May’s generosity. She puts it down on the bar under her plate, letting the bartender know she’s taking off for the night.

The night air chills her skin as she leaves the bar before she’s caught. She pulls a cigarette out as she loiters outside the bar, leaning back against the building’s porch. Dahlia takes a deep inhale looking off into the distance.

Even in the valley, the statue of Joseph Seed is looming in the distance, the tallest thing in the entire county. There must be light around it, setting the statue aglow at night. She lets out the smoke in her lungs as she’s reminded of the real man. It wasn’t long ago she could barely believe he was a real living person. The statue makes him seem too large, too imposing, too important to be tangible. Meeting him and his family still feels like a fever dream.

Faith is like a living fairy, floating along in a white dress with flowers in her hair. An ethereal being with long dirty blonde hair and bright green eyes. Dahlia’s dream or perhaps exhaustion induced hallucinations of chasing after her still making the woman feel like a specter.

John feels like someone pretending to be human or maybe it’s just how out of place he seems in the rustic little county.  Dark slicked back hair, designer shades always on top of his head, silk shirts, and tailored vests; he looks like a Ken doll someone drew tattoos on.

The brother who didn’t bother to offer his name cuts possibly the most intimidating figure of them. He seemed larger than life. At least six foot six and wider than a door, dressed in army attire with his ginger hair shaved at the sides. The man could snap her spine in half if he had a half a mind to.

Then there’s Joseph, The Father, goosebumps raise on her skin when she thinks of his title. It’s bias, projections of her trauma that bring up those gross feelings when in reality he’s done nothing to her. His statue is true to his likeness in some ways, dark hair pulled back in a small bun and the full beard that seems standard for all men in Eden’s Gate. But at the end of it all, the statue is a composed sterilized version of the intense man who stood in front of her. The concrete can’t capture the intensity of his blue eyes, the way they cut through her, the way his choice of sunglasses turn them green. His unblinking stare as he stood out in the cold of night, shirtless with ink and scars marring his skin, sweat still sticking to him and strands of hair falling into his face.

But despite the wild appearance, he spoke calmly, he spoke deliberately and with devotion. He’s intense and he’s all encompassing, everything about him is too much, from his stare to the way his touch lingered for a moment more than it should have. His presences like a raging fire that can’t be ignored. 

She has no real reason to dislike him, he’s done nothing cruel, he hasn’t wronged her. But every fiber of her being screams at her to stay away, that he’s everything she doesn’t want near her. A forest fire that her body is urging her to run away, lest she be burned to ashes.

It may be paranoia and experience perverting her feelings; and it may be gut instinct trying to save her.  

But regardless, it seems she’ll be burned alive come morning.

[gone4neow]

MIGHTY | ⓅⒸⓎ

c h a p t e r s i x

- park chanyeol x oc

- mulan rewrite [very loosely inspired by the disney version]

- warnings : cursing, dark themes, extreme violence

- work count : 3,109

previous chapter or next chapter 

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After a week or so of training, the general announced that it was time to move on from their temporary camp. They would have to meet with another group of soldiers soon enough. Eunyeong was happy to move on. She had hoped that with the move things would get easier for her. Perhaps this would be like a fresh start and all the teasing she was experiencing would come to be ancient history. Of course, this proved to be nothing but wishful thinking.

The general had chosen to follow along the main road leading towards the palace. The woman thought this was strange since it presented a golden opportunity for an ambush for the enemies, but she was unsure of her thinking. He was a well-experienced soldier after all, which meant he would know more than she would.

The dirt path contained several scattered stones. At times Eunyeong would step on them by mistake. Her feet were aching from walking all morning and her calves burned, but she kept her head high. Members from her old training group followed behind her. She could hear them snickered to one another, though it was hard to make out what their whispers were about. Quite frankly, she didn't care enough to turn around and ask what they were giggling about. Ahead of her walked Baekhyun and a few of his training members. She hadn't been placed in a new group yet, but there was little personal concern over that.

The journey came to a temporary halt around noon. Everyone was tired and needed a break. Eunyeong was grateful and had just gone to sit down when she was approached by one of her former training partners.

"Hey," he called out to her quietly. She watched as he scanned the area around them. Then, his features twisted into a troubled look.

"Listen, I want to talk to you about the river thing. Can we go somewhere private?" He asked her softly. The woman analyzed the glimmer in his eyes, looking for a sign of disingenuous intentions. A part of her felt as if she shouldn't bother listening to a word the man said, but the other half of her knew that her father had taught her better than to hold grudges. So, she stood up and followed the man into the forest located next to the road.

"We should make this quick," she warned the man in a low voice as she glanced over her shoulder back at the group of soldiers resting. When she turned back around she ran into the man's chest. She looked up at him and saw a smirk on his face. Right away she knew that she had gotten into yet another dangerous situation. She turned to run back to the rest of the soldiers, but she was cut off by the man she recognized as the one who had forced her under the water. The air in her lungs caught. Suddenly she was frozen, unable to even make a sound. The man behind her grabbed her by her arms and pulled her further into the trees. This way, he would be sure no one could see them.

"You're not going to fight this time?" He asked as he shoved her to the ground. "That makes it less fun."

She could hear his voice, but his words overlapped one another and became a slurred mess. Her heartbeat rang in her ears. Her hands trembled as fear consumed her chest. It felt as if she were being submerged underneath the river yet again. Focus, she told herself, remember Baekhyun's fishing day.

No matter how hard she tried to take control of her body, she couldn't get a grasp. The men hadn't even touched her again and yet she was terrified. Some soldier you are, she thought.

"What's that noise?" One of the men asked.

"It's just me," a third man announced as he stepped into view. He was slightly out of breath and covered in sweat. His friends look at him with confused eyes.

"Where have you been?" One questioned.

"I was trying to see how far away the river is from here, but these guys saw me and chased me back here," he explained causally. The other two men shared a worried glance before suddenly new figures emerged from behind the trees. The three soldiers went to run right away, but the men grabbed them before they could escape. Eunyeong drew in a breath as she was pulled up from the forest floor.

"Do we have enough to tie them all up?" She heard a new voice question.

"No, but this short one is practically limp. He seems to be out of it - if he tries anything we will be able to handle him," another replied. Slowly, Eunyeong was starting to grow aware of the situation. Were they being abducted by the enemies? She subtly glanced around to see her attackers being tied up and forced to walk. The man behind her gave her shoulder a shove and her feet moved hesitantly. She walked at a slowed pace, staggering purposely with hopes that the men would assume she was completely out of it. Ever so often she would even mumble gibberish in a slurred voice. The abductors simply scoffed and slowly quit paying her any attention. To them, she must've seemed like a waste of time.

When she was convinced that they were completely unfocused on her, she slowly slid her hand underneath her top and removed her small dagger from her waistline. Her hands still trembled, but she was beginning to feel a new kind of courage. There were only three of the men. One rode on the back of a horse and the other two walked a bit ahead of her, watching over her former training partners.

It took a few minutes, but when she was sure that her timing would be perfect she sprung into action. The man in front of her was her first move. She stabbed him twice in the side and pushed on his torso with all of her might until he was crashing into his fellow soldier. The men tumbled to the ground soon after. The man on his horse turned around quickly. Anger flashed upon his features when he realized what had happened. Eunyeong was already working on freeing one of her former partners. He stared at her with surprise in his eyes.

When she noticed she said, "I need you to fight with me."

Her voice shook with nerves. Before the man would have taunted her for this, but now he wasted no time in nodding his head in agreement. The man on his horse had jumped down from the stallion and was already approaching them. Eunyeong watched as the man she just freed immediately began swinging his fists. The uninjured man on the ground rose to his feet and turned to the woman before she could work on freeing the second man. He released a growl as he charged at her. She dodged his attack and rolled on the ground to evade him. Quickly, she stood and worked recklessly at the binds on one of the men's wrists. Before she could completely free him, she was tackled to the ground. She gasped loudly at the blow to her side. The dagger in her grasp flew into the brush along the forest floor, hidden from her sight.

Her attacker straddled her and began to throw punches against her face. Each strike felt more forceful than the last. The man she had attempted to free pulled at his wrists until the cloth imprisoning him ripped apart. The woman was relieved when he pushed the man on top of her off. He looked down at her with grateful eyes while stretching his hand out towards her. She took it and allowed him to pull her back onto her feet.

"Let's run!" He called out to her. She shook her head, knowing they couldn't just run. The man who had tackled her tried to attack them again. Eunyeong moved just at the last second. She felt the air push into her as he stumbled down upon the man who had saved her. While they rolled on the ground, she searched the forest floor for her lost dagger.

When she finally found it, she glanced over her shoulder subtly. The first man she had free had knocked out his attacked and had moved to free the last bound man. The second man she had freed was still struggling on the ground with the attacker from the horse. She drew in a deep breath, summoned every ounce of courage she possessed and turned before she stepped towards the attacker.

When she reached him, she grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his head back. Immediately the fight between him and her former bully came to a pause. Everyone watched as she lowered her head until her lips hovered just a centimeter away from the shell of the enemy's ear. Her right hand held her dagger tightly and her arm wrapped around his shoulder just enough for her to position the sharp blade against the stubbled skin of the man's throat.

"You lost," she told him quietly. Her voice no longer wavered. Instead, it held a dark tone to it, one that made even her bullies subconsciously take a step back. After today she would no longer fear confrontation. She would walk into war with her head held high. Her fears would be pushed to the side, even if she was truly terrified inside.

"Go back to your leader. Tell him if he wants a war, we'll give him a war," she instructed him. "Your other men here will be going with us. We'll keep them safe for you."

Slowly, she stood back up at her full height. A few seconds of silence passed before she looked over at the first man she had freed. She gestured towards the man below her and silently signaled for him to knock the enemy unconscious. Her fellow soldier nodded quickly.

"You two, help me with these guys," she commanded, pointing at the men who laid limp on the forest floor. The men didn't argue. In fact, they moved at speeds she would've never guessed they could reach. She quirked an eyebrow at the observation.

By the time they made it back to the main road, their group was gone. They had taken the enemy's horse with them after abandoning its accessories, but obviously not everyone could fit on the creature. So they had agreed to all walk since it would only be fair. The two men they had capture laid across the stallion's back, still unconscious. Eunyeong feared that the men had died.

They traveled along the main road for what felt like centuries until eventually, they came upon a camp. They each shared a glance with one another, all wondering if this was really their group. By this point, the sun was preparing to settle in for the night. Men could be seen sitting around their tents with small bowls of rice in their hands, chatting amongst one another as if they were lifelong friends.

As the small group approached the camp, more and more eyes were starting to find them. Men yelled out in what Eunyeong had assumed were warnings, but eventually she realized they were welcoming the group back. She could see her fellow soldiers' eyes widened as they stared at the enemies stretched across the back of the horse. The blood on the group did not go unnoticed.

"What's this commotion about?" A familiar, raspy voice filled the air. She could see him up ahead. He had stuck his head out to get a look at the source of the noise. His mouth hung open in disbelief as he pulled the rest of his body out of the tent. His second hand followed closely behind.

"General Park! We were abducted by those bastards! But they were no match for us," one of the men began to explain as the group came to a stop. Eunyeong rolled her eyes from the back of the group as she watched the men flex their arms and laugh at one another with excitement. The general strolled over to the group, his eyes analyzing the enemies on the horse. His eyes were wider than ever before and those plump lips of his barely touched. Then, his eyes somehow found Eunyeong's. They scanned the blood on her face. He mentally winced at the bruises on her face, although he had seen them time and time again before.

"What happened?" He asked.

"This little guy saved us, General!" One of the men exclaimed. The general didn't remove his eyes from the small soldier.

"What?" His second hand asked in confusion.

"Kyungsoo, you and these soldiers can take our prisoners. We'll put them in the tent next to yours," the general ordered. "You come with me. I want to hear every detail."

Eunyeong did as she was told. She followed the man into his tent and settled down on a comfy floor pillow before she began recalling the events from beginning to end. Her listened quietly, something that surprised her. Perhaps it was prejudice, but she had assumed he would be the type to try to talk over someone else as they spoke. It was a pleasant surprise.

When she finished speaking the man simply said, "Wow."

The lack of a reaction may have startled anyone else, but Eunyeong found it sort of endearing. Usually the man had so much to say. To see him quietly pondering over the story she had just shared with him made her believe he was truly taking in everything she had said. His eyes flickered to find hers. Was it an egotistical thing to believe she saw admiration shining in his eyes.

"You're quiet the surprise," he commented quietly after observing her features for a few moments. She felt her face warm. If only you knew, she thought to herself.

The man began to quietly laugh to himself. He shook his head a bit as he did so, as if trying to shake away the thought in his mind. His eyes averted away from the soldier before him as his hands suddenly worked on pouring some rice wine. The woman watched quietly as he did so, taking in every detail of his hands that she could make out from the short distance. The man had beautiful hands. His fingers were longer than most of the hands she had seen, the tips of them a light shade of pink.

"Do you want some?" His voice brought her back to reality. Her eyebrows raised at the question, but she nodded her head.

"I know it's a bit early for celebration, but I feel as if you deserve this after today," he explained as he handed over a small glass of the wine. She took it from him and threw it back in her mouth almost immediately. The man laughed as she began to cough while gently slapping her chest.

"You don't drink often?" He wondered.

"I've never drank before," she explained. Her cheeks were flush with embarrassment. The man hummed at the new information, a small smile on his face.

"I'm honored I got to witness your first try," he said. Before the woman could reply, the general's second hand stepped into the tent. Her former bullies followed in behind him, all wearing smug expressions on their faces. They must've felt like war heroes.

"We did good didn't we?" She heard one whisper to the other. The general stared at them with a deadpan expression. He ordered the men to sit down in a voice much harder than the one he had been using before they arrived.

"Can I be excused? I'd like to go find someone," Eunyeong asked. Her fellow soldiers became quiet. They stared at her with a disapproving expression and subtle gestured for her to stop speaking entirely. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The second hand man laughed deeply at the woman.

"You are very brave, huh?" He asked in a humorous tone.

"Go," the general answered her question. "I'm sure they're worried about you."

She nodded and rose to her feet. Quickly, she bowed over respectfully before turning to exit the tent.

"Don't speak out of line to me again," she heard the man warn her just as she entered the evening air.

Baekhyun was already waiting for the woman on the outside of the tent. He nervously shuffled on his feet as he stared out at the setting sun. The sound of the tent's entrance flapping immediately caught his attention. He looked over the messy woman with sharp eyes, searching for a sign of any major injuries. When he found none, he released a breath of air.

"Do you enjoy looking like a nightmare?" He questioned as the corners of his lips lifted just slightly. The woman could still see the concern shining in his eyes despite his effort at humor. She gave a light laugh. Hopefully this way she would ease his tensions some.

"You don't think I'm attractive this way?" She responded. The man sent her a strange expression and gave a nervous laugh.

"Of course," he began. "The women back home would faint at the very sight of you."

Eunyeong quirked an eyebrow at the mentioning of women. She had never thought of women like that before, but the idea of a woman being attracted to her seemed exciting. Did Baekhyun enjoy a lot of women back home? He didn't seem like the type. The woman pondered over the thought for a few seconds before she shook her head.

"Because of the blood? It really highlights my features doesn't it?" She played along.

"Oh yeah. Some may say you look drop-dead handsome," the man replied with a gentle laugh. Eunyeong rolled her eyes before bumping her arm into his and walking away. The man followed after her, singing a teasing song for her as he trailed behind.

[jincherie]

tentacledipity | three

➛pairing: jimin x reader ➛genre: alien au, space au, soulmate au, wanted au, smut (coming) ➛rating: sfw ➛words: 11.1k ➛warnings: none really jimothy snaps later on ➛notes:  wow this took a while but I’m back tentacle fuckers! this one is double the size of the usual update so i hope it makes up for how long it took me a little bit. From the looks of the poll this will probably be the series I focus on first! 

also; I will add links at a later date! pls enjoy & lmk what u think!

This tale starts, as any good fiction does, with a girl crash landing on a foreign planet. And, like any good fiction, it follows a theme of serendipitous happening, and tentacles. Behold, serendipity and tentacles— or dare we call it…. tentacledipity.

— posted; 17.03.2019 //  ↞ prev. || three || next ↠

Not for the first time in your stay on this planet, you found yourself once more overcome with awe at the sheer beauty of your surroundings.

Today was a day you’d been looking forward to ever since Seokjin had asked you if you’d like to tag along three days ago—today you finally ventured past the tall, looming obsidian walls that guarded the edge of the palace’s property. You were going into town! The fabled city that nestled below the incline upon which the palace sat, with markets, stalls, parks, and all the other good things you’d heard of from Namjoon and the other humans but hadn’t had the pleasure of experiencing yet. You were beyond excited, quite literally bouncing down the path beside Seokjin. Contrary to what you might have expected, the male was surprisingly unbothered by your sudden hyperactivity. In fact, you suspected from the slight bounce in his step that he was barely restraining himself from skipping down the path with you.

“Where are we going first?” you couldn’t help yourself from asking Seokjin, not for the first time. Your arms were swinging and you felt a bit like a child but were too excited to really care.

Seokjin snorted as your hastened pace caused you to trip on a dark plum-coloured branch that had fallen onto the black stone path and blended in. His arm shot out with ease and stopped you from face-planting, a sheepish laugh tumbling from your throat in response.

“Well, I have a list of supplies I am to fetch. Normally a task like this would be assigned to someone in a lesser position, but since the event is so important it has fallen onto me. Additionally, it occurred to me that you hadn’t seen the town yet and might enjoy the opportunity to venture past the palace walls.”

“Aw, Seokjinnie~” you cooed immediately, your first instinct always to give in to your playful whims. You paused your skipping to latch onto the kelkie’s arm dramatically, nearly tripping again in the process. Was it your shoes? Or were you just incredibly uncoordinated today? “How kind of you, I can always trust you to take care of me!”

Seokjin let out a loud laugh at that, allowing you to cling for a moment before he peeled you off. “I know, I’m far too generous and considerate. Combined with my incredible good looks, it is a wonder I do not have suitors lining up for miles.”

You joined him in his laughter, bracing yourself on his arm. You didn’t bother adding to that since it was already funny enough as is, and in the following comfortable silence the male’s words from earlier caught up to you.

“Wait,” you turned to face the tall male, watching as his raven hair rustled in the breeze and patches of sunlight lit his skin in a golden glow. His dark eyes swept to meet yours, the light colouring them deep chocolate. You were thankful the walk so far had been one that was mostly under the cover of the foliage because you didn’t fancy the idea of being fried alive beneath the full force of the sun’s rays. “You’re going shopping for things for an event? An important event? What’s happening?”

Seokjin seemed surprised at your question. “You don’t know?” he queried, “Jimin didn’t tell you anything?”

At the mention of the male your heart simultaneously skipped a beat and dropped slightly. A surprising mix of a reaction, but one that occurred mostly because you hadn’t actually seen the male much at all since your last encounter in the gardens. Apart from glimpses caught in hallways or through windows, he proved to be as elusive as always. Something that tickled your competitive side about as much as it disappointed you. You just wanted to see the prospective alien love of your life, damn it.

“I haven’t really seen Jimin in a while…” you said, unaware of how your face was betraying your current state of perturb. Seokjin’s keen eyes caught every shift in your features, his lips pursing in concern and curiosity at the sudden drop in your mood. He waited a few moments to see if you were going to continue before he spoke.

“You are… a little hard to read,” he noted, bringing your gaze from the ground to his face. “What are you thinking, cheeky human?”

You frowned, considering whether it was worth telling Seokjin. A part of you wanted to keep your mouth shut, simply because you felt a bit like a fool thanks to your current train of thought, but the rest of you wanted desperately to let it all out and to talk to someone. You didn’t do well with bottling things up, and your philosophy was always more along the lines of the more communication the better anyway, so you ultimately decided you may as well spill your thoughts to the curious alien walking alongside you. Besides, he knew Jimin—perhaps he could offer some important insight.

You mulled over how to word what was running through your mind for a few moments before giving up and just attempting to go for it. “I… I just can’t help but wonder… You know, he seems busy, and I don’t see him much, but sometimes it’s like…”

Pausing to order your thoughts a little more, Seokjin waited patiently for you to continue. You sighed, deciding to bite the bullet, “It’s not me, is it? Is he really avoiding me? Does he hate me that much? I know I’m a little unbearable but still… that shit hurted.”

If Seokjin was perplexed at some of your speech habits he didn’t show it, instead gazing at you with a look that was somehow thoughtful and sympathetic despite the trickle of amusement you caught glimmering behind his eyes.

“I think,” he began, turning his gaze forward as he sorted his thoughts and the two of you continued down the path; you glimpsed something just beyond the trees as you waited for him to continue. “I think… you are something he hasn’t ever encountered before. I have not ever seen anyone interact with him the way you do, so I think that if he is avoiding you… it is because he is flustered.”

You felt your mouth drop slightly, forming a tiny ‘o’ shape. Seokjin continued, returning his gaze to yours; the warmth in his eyes helped to soothe the slight aches troubling your heart a little. “But besides that, the celebration that is coming—it is… incredibly important, probably the biggest one in over twenty sweeps—sorry, years. So it could also be that he is just busy. Jimin and I have received the biggest portion of work for this, since we are the King’s closest and most trusted advisors.”

Nodding, you took a moment to process all that. What he said made sense, and to his credit… actually served to mollify your worries a little. You felt a smile beginning to tug your lips once more, already over the brief stormy spell in your mood. Wow, Seokjin was a really good counsellor. No wonder he was one of the King’s best advisors, as he so often proclaimed.

“Thanks, Seokjin,” you said sincerely, offering him a bright grin. He returned it and you allowed a moment before the curve to your lips turned sly. “Anyway… back to the important topic at hand… just what is this celebration that’s so big and important that the King’s right- and left-hand men are working so hard to organise it?”

Seokjin mirrored your look, and you knew in that instant that this shit-stirring bastard wasn’t going to spill a single drop to you. He cooed instead of an answer, reaching to ruffle your hair.

“You can wait and find out with the rest of the population,” he snickered at the petulant look on your face. “Don’t think you get any special privileges just because you are awfully endearing for a human.”

Accepting that you weren’t going to get any more out of him regarding the mysterious celebration, you instead latched onto the other part of the sentence. You batted your lashes, giving him a shit-stirring grin. “You think I’m endearing?”

Seokjin let out a loud groan, distracting you as you rounded a harsh bend in the path. “I should have known when they told me you were like me that they weren’t kidding,” he lamented, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head dramatically. “I am sorry y/n, but this planet only has enough room for one Seokjin. I am going to have to dispose of you… imposter.”

You laughed loudly at that, playful banter one of the things that truly sustains you. You opened your mouth to shoot back an equally riveting response when your attention was suddenly captured by the sight in front of you. Your mouth dropped open, eyes shooting wide. You missed Seokjin’s smug look at your current awestruck state.

You’d finally reached the town, and it was… beautiful.

Streams trickled alongside the path on either side, clear and crystalline and glimmering turquoise as they flowed between the edge of what you presumed to be a large, two-story homes built from smooth marble-like stone and the obsidian path. The road was a bit more worn as you entered the town, but still made for stunning visuals when paired with everything else. The area you were currently in appeared to be more of a residential one, the path leading to a large circular area in the middle of the section that branched off in main pathways in each direction. From those pathways more would split; short, curved stone that bridged the path to the front door of the homes over the stream, which acted as a moat of sorts around each structure. In the middle of the circle was a small water feature that had gorgeous water flora floating along the bottom pool, glistening prettily as the droplets of moisture caught the light.

“You are so easily impressed,” Seokjin mused, bringing your attention back to the current moment. The two of you had halted on the path right at the entrance to the town where the foliage ended and the buildings began. “It is as though you have never seen a residential section… what does it look like, on Earth?”

“Ugly,” you answered immediately, snorting at the shocked look that flitted across the male’s features. “I mean… some areas were pretty, but those kinds of areas are the ones that only richer people could afford. Most of the population couldn’t afford it, so they lived in places that are… less well-kept and structured.”

Seokjin seemed appalled at that, wide eyes flitting from you to the scene around you. “You mean to say that not everyone in your cities gets the same opportunity for housing?”

You nodded regretfully, Seokjin’s jaw dropping. “Most people live in decent places, but a lot of people live in housing that doesn’t have the main necessities, like clean water, or in a house that is falling apart because it is old. It’s… not great. It is better than it used to be, but there are still a lot of people who live like that—at least, there was, last time I was there. A lot of people can’t afford homes too, so they live on the street. Homeless.”

“That is preposterous!” Seokjin exclaimed, eyes alight with fury at the injustice present on your home planet—oh, if only he knew the half of it. “Everyone deserves the right to live in security! Does your ruler, your government not help them? Do they just leave them to suffer?”

You scratched the back of your neck. “I mean, a lot of people try and fix things but… humans have a long history of shitty actions and behaviours that is hard to undo. I mean, it’s part of why the environment and nature is so shot to hell. Humans ruined it.”

The male seemed to pick up how sad you were about that fact in particular, as he stepped forward and looped your arm with his.

“I do not understand the rest of your species,” he said decisively, beginning to move the two of you further into the town. “But I am glad that it was you who happened to come crashing down into our orchards. I think we have been lucky in only getting to meet the best humans.”

You let out a laugh at that, swinging your arms cheerfully. “True! And dude, even I don’t understand humans. It’s impossible.”

That brought a hearty chuckle from the male, and the two of you delved into another conversation as he led you further into the city and pointed everything out to you as you moved by it.

As the morning passed and you spent it following Seokjin around as he went to gather everything he had on the sneaky list he never let you fully glimpse, you began to grow familiar with the market portion of the town. Stalls upon stalls set up for trade, bigger boutiques and kiosks nestled into small buildings that provided shelter from the sweltering sun. While you moved through the slight crowd and cheerful chatter that filled the air, many things caught your eye, and Seokjin actually ended up purchasing a dress for you—not because you asked him to, but because he saw it and proclaimed quite loudly that it would suit you so well it was “practically made for you”. The vendor was a sweet elderly kelkie with what looked to be a tattoo curling up her neck and peeking over the edge of her jaw. When she caught you looking at it she smiled in amusement, but her attention was quickly taken by an elder male that sidled up to her with a fond look, running his hand across her shoulder and speaking to her in the native tongue you still had no idea how to understand. To your complete and utter curiosity, you noted that he had a matching tattoo in the exact same place in the exact same style. You knew better than to ask or comment on it, but couldn’t help but think to yourself how sweet that was. Ah, love. Marvellous to behold, truly.

You tailed after Seokjin like an awestruck little duckling, having to grasp the end of his shirt so you didn’t get lost. Despite how many stores and stalls he visited, the pile in his arms wasn’t that big. You supposed a lot of the things he had gone for were things that would need to be ordered and delivered to the palace for the mystery celebration. It was really burning you alive, not knowing what was going on, but you supposed that if even the people inhabiting the town by the palace didn’t know then you could bear to wait a little longer. It wasn’t like you were that left out of the loop.

As Seokjin neared the end of his list, you found yourself more than a little saddened that your trip was soon to come to an end. This was the first time you’d really been out of the palace and in all honesty, you thought you were in love with the town and the sweet townspeople who shot you bright smiles despite the fact you were very obviously not even from their planet. You knew as soon as you returned to your room in the palace that you were going to feel a sense of loss and emptiness. Now that you’ve tasted freedom, could you go back to what you had before? That sounded a bit dramatic, but all you meant was would you be able to resist the urge to sneak out every so often?

The answer was a very obvious no, and while you didn’t care that you were sneaking out you were a little regretful in advance for the scoldings you were going to get. Inevitable, you supposed. Couldn’t be helped.

A few of the stalls you’d passed had piqued your interest a little, but none so much that you had the urge to stop Seokjin and investigate. You were very much aware this was more of a sight-seeing trip than anything—hell, you didn’t even have any of whatever currency the Kelkie used. Actually, you take that back a little. You’d found out today that a lot of stalls aren’t that strict on the currency. Many will settle for a trade. The thing is, you didn’t think you had anything of worth to trade. Sad times in the y/n kingdom, it seemed.

Things changed when you began on your way out of the market area though, as you turned with Seokjin and caught sight of something glimmering in your peripheral. You halted on the spot, head whipping and a loud gasp tearing from your lips. Was that… jewellery? Seokjin, who had halted when you did, seemed amused that the thing that had finally caught your attention after a morning of wandering was sparkly metals and jewels.

You’d planned on just staring at the door to the boutique, and jumped when Seokjin spoke, his voice closer than you’d anticipated.

“You want to go have a look?” he queried, grinning when you turned to him with wide eyes shining hopefully. “Alright, let us go.”

You couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across your face, eager to follow the tall male into the boutique and keep up the duckling act from earlier. The outside was a sleek mix of black, navy and white marble-like stone, a sign of similar material placed by the door and engraved, with the letters painted pretty silver to stand out against the inky colour of the backing. You couldn’t read it, of course, but were happy to go and investigate nonetheless. Discoveries were more exciting when you had less clues as to what they were!

A soft tinkle rang above you as the two of you entered, the inside of the store painted a smooth, deep teal colour on some walls and stark pearl on others. There were rows of jewellery along the walls and on the short aisles in the middle of the room, but some of them looks peculiarly shaped and you weren’t sure what they were for… until you glanced one in particular with a barbell-like sculpt and realised belatedly that this was both a jewellery and piercing boutique. Your surprise must have shown on your face because Seokjin ended up laughing softly from beside you.

You were startled from your keen observations of the pretty jewels by a low voice from deeper into the store. Jumping in fright, your gaze whipped up; further towards the back there was a counter, more jewellery displayed on shelves beneath, and a tall Kelkie male who possessed broad shoulders, deep golden skin and a cheery smile. He was speaking in the language native to Kilkhea, if the familiar clicks and rolling sounds were anything to go by, and his gaze was flicking between you and Seokjin. He seemed pleased to see the advisor, marks across his cheeks and arms flushed calm blue.

To your surprise, in your curious observation of his features you found he had a number of piercings. Two jewels embedded in the skin under the outer edge of each eye, large, thick silvery hoops in his ears and a piercing just below the plump flesh of his bottom lip, the metal supporting a thin charm that dangled prettily against his chin as he talked.

The conversation went right over your head as Seokjin let out a laugh and responded in kind, patting your shoulder as he said something that was no doubt about you.

You let your gaze wonder as they conversed, brought back to the present when Seokjin suddenly addressed you.

“y/n, this is Hyunwoo,” Seokjin said, smiling big. “He is the town’s main jeweller and responsible for clan piercings.”

The male said something suddenly, a teasing lilt to his voice, and the Kelkie beside you snorted. “He says to call him Shownu since that is what everyone calls him anyway.”

The male nodded, satisfied, and you couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped you. “It’s nice to meet you, Shownu! I’m y/n.”

Seokjin translated for you, and Shownu nodded at you once more with a smile. The raven-haired male beside you turned to face you in question.

“Does your clan participate in piercings?” he queried, tilting his head. “Do humans do something similar to this? You seemed like you recognised some of these…”

“Yeah, humans do it,” you affirmed, allowing your gaze to sweep over the contents of the shop before returning to Seokjin. “But I’m not sure what you mean… my clan? Do you mean my family?”

The male nodded, taking initiative to fill you in further at the sight of your confused expression. “It is tradition here for some clans—some families—to get a certain set of jewelleries and piercings on their twenty-fourth birthday. Shownu was the one who did mine— my clan does not have many interesting ones, save for the, uh… ears, and here…”

You weren’t sure what you had expected him to show you, but it certainly hadn’t been his tongue. He slipped it past his lips, and you nearly fell over in shock as you registered the sight of the pearlescent metal sitting in the middle of the flushed muscle. What the hell—had that been there the whole time?! And you didn’t even know?!

He returned his tongue back to its place, letting out a loud laugh at your shaken expression. “It was funny to show the other humans that too,” he admitted, incredibly amused. “For some reason, you never expect it.”

“It’s probably because you don’t look like the type of person who would get it back on Earth,” you said, grinning. “We don’t really get them to continue tradition, a lot of people get them just because they want them or think they’re pretty.”

Seokjin nodded, “Ah, that is true of some people here too. Do you have any, y/n?”

You nodded, pulling your hair back to show him the rings and studs in your ears. “I always wanted to get ones in other places, but I was a little scared… plus I never got the time to get them on earth, and I’m not about to look for reputable piercers in the back rooms of interspace stations.”

The Kelkie snorted at that, peering curiously at your ears and nodding in approval at what he observed. Shownu’s eyes seemed to light up as he caught sight of your bejewelled ears, beckoning you closer so he could have a look. You moved over without complaint, leaning so he could inspect the metal and jewels easier. You could hear him muttering to himself every so often, fingers softly prodding and nudging as his marked shifted shades of blue.

“Understandable,” Seokjin said, amusement curling in his tone. “But if you wanted them… why not get one here? There are many arrays to choose from.”

You fixed him with a pondering look, chewing your lip. “Would that even be okay?” you asked, worried about overstepping your bounds as a foreigner—as an alien on this planet. “Aren’t they important to you and other kelkie?”

Seokjin shrugged. “They are a rite of passage, but they are not especially meaningful aside from that. Often, they are just a marker of adulthood, and which clan you belong to. Still, some Kelkie pierce as they like. You’re human, so you are not really bound to any of our traditions. I think if you chose something, the clan that possesses that piercing would probably feel honoured you chose it.”

You hummed, mulling that over. His words soothed your worries somewhat, and as you turned your gaze over the jewels and pieces before you, your mind filtered back to the one you’d noticed earlier. The barbell, commonly used for navel piercings… something in your gut urged you towards that, and as someone that more often than not followed her instincts above all else, you were inclined to choose it.

“Do you… are there any, for here?” you queried, lifting your shirt and pointing above your bellybutton. Seokjin tilted his head, something curious yet unreadable curling in his gaze. Shownu grinned, shifting in excitement as he moved to grab a box from the top shelf behind him, bringing it back before you. Opening it, you were exposed to a soft cushion displaying a number of beautiful, intricate barbells with charms and jewels. You couldn’t help your gasp.

“Your…?” Seokjin said something in his mother tongue that you had no idea how to interpret but hazarded a guess as to what he meant. “Are you going to get it? We have time.”

“We call it a bellybutton,” you informed him, and he nodded in understanding with the slightest bit of perplexment, possibly at the name itself. Excitement began to curl within you at the possibility of finally getting to do this after hoping for it all your teen years, but you came crashing back to the present as you remembered part of why you hadn’t done it before.

“Ah, but I don’t have any money,” you said, taking a step from the counter and shooting Shownu an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I can’t believe I forgot.”

Shownu shook his head, giving you a kind smile. Seokjin said something to him, receiving a rapid response and a smile. He turned back to you grinning brightly.

“He says that he is happy to trade in the stead of currency.”

You could feel you face lit up, before you realised your predicament in that sense as well. You sighed, “I don’t have anything to—wait!”

Your sudden exclamation had both males straightening, looking on curiously. You reached under the material of your shirt, with a little difficulty thanks to the high neckline, and fished around until you found what you were looking for and unclasped the two chains that found their way into your grasp. Shownu’s eyes lit up as you pulled the necklaces from your shirt, both gold and decorated with a different jewelled charm each. They weren’t really anything special, just things you’d once gotten from a prospective suitor and thought were pretty enough to keep.

The Kelkie chattered excitedly as he took them into his hold, waving his free hand at Seokjin as he inspected them eagerly. You wondered if he was so interested because almost all of the jewellery Kelkie had was of variations of silvery metal.

“He says this is more than enough for just the piercing—is there anything else you want while we’re here?” Seokjin translated, seeming proud of you in the way you presumed a mother would be of a child who was making their first purchase.

Excited, you let your gaze wander and your mind run. Was there anything you wanted in particular? You didn’t really feel any extra need for jewellery now that you were getting one in your navel, but you didn’t want to waste the opportunity…

Your pondering came to an abrupt end when you caught sight of something to the side, something that almost seemed to glow in a bid to catch your attention. You gasped softly, moving over to inspect it closer.

It was a necklace, the chain consisting of thickly woven silver links, intertwined with a molten-grey metal you didn’t think you’d seen yet. The silver was almost pearlescent, resembling mother of pearl more than it did actual silver from your home planet, but was firm beneath your touch. The thick chain was connected by a single large hoop of a slightly cooler silver, which was engraved lightly with patterns and swirls. It was stunning, magnetising, and upon looking at it, it immediately reminded you of a certain someone.

“Wow,” you said, unable to stop your words from flowing. “This would look beautiful on Jimin…”

Ignoring Seokjin’s look of surprise, you turned to Shownu and gestured sheepishly. You expected this to be out of the price range for the trade, but figured you may as well ask. “Would this be too much…?”

Snapping out of his stupor with a strange glint in his eye and an amused curl to his tone, Seokjin relayed your question to the jeweller. Shownu instantly shook his head, offering you a smile. You weren’t sure of the answer he gave you until the Kelkie by you translated once again.

“No, he says that meets it perfectly.”

Shownu hurried to come and grab it for you, holding it gingerly as he came to place it into a small, cushioned case made of a stone that, oddly-enough, reminded you of some sort of jade. Surprised that everything was coming together so easily for you, you couldn’t stop the big dumb grin from tugging your lips.

“You know, with a gift like that, one might get the wrong idea,” Seokjin was teasing you, you knew it, but still you couldn’t help but rise to the bait.

“What wrong idea? I’m clearly trying to woo him!” you shot back, your response eliciting a cackle from the tall Kelkie. Shownu spared the two of you a fond smile as he finished tucking away the necklace, pushing it towards you in its closed case and saying something to Seokjin.

The male brightened, turning to you with a grin as you took the case into your hold, relishing the comforting weight. “Well, that will have to wait for now, cheeky human. You have a… a belly… bellybottom to pierce.”

You burst into laughter at Seokjin’s slip up, hastily going to correct him as Shownu led the two of you to a room towards the back that you hadn’t even noticed until then. The male’s cheeks heated but he took the embarrassment graciously, laughing with you as you continued snorting and prepared for the piercing.

You definitely weren’t letting go of that one any time soon.

x    x     x     x     x     x     x

 As you’d expected, your return to the palace had brought on a certain sense of emptiness after experiencing what was beyond the walls. It had been a few days now, and although you wanted to get out you hadn’t really wanted to venture into town without an escort when you had no money and couldn’t speak the language. So to settle somewhat, you’d slipped past poor Jongin and Jongdae again and snuck to a certain part of the gardens you’d discovered a while ago. You really ought to make them something for their troubles—you were sure their life was much more stress-free before you rocked up.

You liked this little spot; it was nestled in one of the corners of the garden that followed the wall by the back of the palace, not too far from the kitchens now that you actually thought about it. Perhaps that added to the charm. Even so, without taking its alluring closeness to a food source into consideration, the spot had its own charms. The corner itself consisted of thick hedges with deep blue leaves and stunning magenta and cream flowers, the obsidian wall that marked the end of palace property looming close behind it. The earth was soft and plush beneath your feet, soil rich and no doubt part of the reason the main tree that had grown there had grown to be so tall and thick in diameter. The wood was peculiar, in that it was incredibly supple yet completely sturdy at the same time, and it grew in curls and curves. This meant that it was an absolutely ideal tree for climbing, but you didn’t quite have the energy for that today. You were a bit bummed, and it wasn’t entirely because you missed the town.

You had a feeling Jimin was avoiding you again.

Well, either that or he was so ridiculously busy that he had no time for anything but sleeping eating and work. You’d been trying to track him and chase him down for days to give him the present you got for him at Shownu’s shop, but to his credit he was very hard to track. You pulled out all the stops you could think of and yet here you were, no closer to catching him and instead sulking about your failure beneath a tree as you laid sprawled across the ground. You probably looked as pathetic as you felt.

You let out a sigh, patting your stomach absent-mindedly and brushing your finger over the slight bump beneath the silky material of your shirt. You’d gotten the piercing expecting to get a lot of pain and limiting instructions afterwards, but to your complete and utter surprise it was quite the opposite. After piercing you, Shownu had cleansed the site with a teal-coloured liquid that shimmered green beneath the light. It stung for the barest of moments before every single sensation of pain disappeared completely. You felt the flesh tingle and watched, wide-eyed, as it appeared to heal before your eyes. Kelkie medicine was truly something else, and you were forever thankful that you’d crash landed on this planet of all possible planets.

Shownu had simply told you to be extra mindful of it for the next week but that after that, it would be completely fine. The mixture he used sped up the healing process almost entirely, something you could barely wrap your head around, and meant that you didn’t have to face a lot of the possible complications you knew could come with these sorts of things. You’d thanked him profusely, immensely pleased with how good the piercing looked, especially with the jewellery you’d chosen, and had made sure Seokjin told him how much you liked it and appreciated it. Seeing how pleased Shownu was at your words made Seokjin’s sassy eyerolls worth it.

 Back to the source of your current lamentation, you’d left the parlour with a new piercing and a pretty necklace in a jade giftbox—a necklace you had still been unable to give to the person it was meant for.

Another sigh escaped you, eyes staring absently into the foliage above. Ah, nothing like becoming one with nature and disassociating as you attempted to sort through your thoughts and feelings. A classic move in your emotional organisation repertoire.

You’d come here for solitude, but despite that… you were actually feeling a bit lonely. Was it possible to want to be alone and around people at the same time? Because you were feeling that. Perhaps it was the slightly bummed turn your thoughts had taken that had you feeling this way. You closed your eyes, trying to clear your mind and start again so you felt less crummy. You didn’t get very far before something interrupted your concentration and scared you shitless.

“Connecting to a higher power, are we?”

You yelped loudly, eyes flying open and body lurching away from the source of the noise— a snickering Min Yoongi of course. You glared at the offending male, tempted to roll away and turn your back to him like a child.

“And what if I am?” you ask snidely, crossing your arms. “Shouldn’t you leave—I thought they didn’t allow creatures of the night into holy places, you little gremlin.”

Yoongi cackled at that, thoroughly amused, and took the invitation you most definitely didn’t give to sit beside you, leaning back against the thick trunk of the tree. Still, despite what the pout on your face might have him believe, you shuffled over to give him more room. The two of you sat in comfortable, amicable silence as his chuckles gradually calmed down, soaking in the serenity that came with such a beautiful segment of nature like the one that surrounded you now.

“So,” he began after a while, voice low above you. You didn’t bother looking to meet his eyes, it would have been too much of a struggle with the angle you were at. “What’s got you all mopey, peach cheeks?”

You groaned, fighting the urge to smack the male as he snickered softly at your expense. Yoongi looked cool and chic at first glance, but really that was just a front and he was just a goblin. Pouty whiny baby. He was fun to tease but a little too good at teasing you back, if anyone asked you. Well… perhaps that was a bit of a fib. You liked the playful banter he provided, and the fact he gave it back as good as he got. Kept you on your toes, you know?

“My prospective alien boyfriend is avoiding me,” you said, amping up the exaggeration colouring your tone because you knew he’d appreciate the humour in it. He did, letting out a snort.

“What’s new?” he snipped, before letting out a yelp as you smacked him on the thigh closest to you. “Ow! Alright sorry I didn’t mean it. Why is he avoiding you?”

“I don’t knooooooooooow,” you moaned pitifully, thrashing your arms a little like a toddler. “I’m just trying to give him this damn present I got him but he keeps turning tail and running every time he sees me, and I don’t even know if his cheeks are red because he’s blushing or because he’s exhausted from running away from me.”

You risked a glance upwards, and to his credit, Yoongi looked like he was trying very hard to contain the laughter attempting to climb his throat.

“What did you get him?” he asked after schooling himself a little, seemingly unable to contain his curiosity. You huffed, averting your eyes as you mumbled your answer.

“… a necklace.”

As expected, Yoongi let out a snort; it was as though you could feel him rolling his eyes. “Geez, careful y/n, give him a gift like that and he might think you like him or something.”

You sent him your best deadpan look, contorting your neck just to pin him with it face-on. He seemed entirely too amused with himself and it kind of really made you want to smack him. You didn’t even need to respond—you were pretty sure that not only Jimin but probably half the palace knew that you liked him by now. You blanched mentally for a moment—you hadn’t really realised it until now, but somewhere along the line in your stay here you’d progressed from simply finding Jimin attractive and voicing it to actually… liking him. Like, like-liking him. Oh god, was this a crush? Your stomach fluttered at the mere mention of his name, your heart jumped whenever he looked your way—you’d even gone and bought him jewellery without so much as a second thought.

Oh, this…. You were whipped.

Choosing to ignore that startling revelation for a moment, you released your neck from its twisted position and returned to staring mournfully at the foliage above you.

“Not that it matters, anyway,” you couldn’t help the sigh that huffed past your lips. “I can’t even find him to give him the damn thing in the first place.”

At this, Yoongi was silent for a few moments—you took the opportunity to bask in the moment a bit, taking note of the different sounds of nature that filtered through the air to brush your ears. Soft chirps from the small, violet-feathered, birdlike creatures that nested in the nooks and niches hidden in the curling wood of the tree’s branches and trunk; the faint rustling of the leaves and the soft creak of the thick, winding limbs as they swayed with the breeze. The patches of sunlight that managed to reach your form beneath the canopy were warm as they soaked your skin, but thankfully not unbearably so in such small doses. You didn’t doubt that if you weren’t mostly under the shade you’d feel like an overcooked meal by now, though.

“Well…” The sound of the male’s slow drawl brought your attention back to the conversation at hand as he began to speak, “Who says you have to give it to him in person? You could always leave it somewhere for him.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “That’s the coward’s way out,” you grumbled, crossing one leg over the other to match your arms. “How would he know it’s from me?”

Snorting at your apparent view on gift-giving and how it should be done, Yoongi leans over to peer at you, albeit upside down. “Uh, leave a note? I’m sorry, I forgot you lost most of your brain cells when you crashed here. I’ll try and be a little bit more considerate.”

Whining, you smacked him on the leg—apparently the response he was expecting since he burst into laughter as soon as you did it.

“Okay yeah, you’re not wrong about that, but it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t write or even read k-kelk—kelkoe? Whatever it is people speak here.”

You peered back in time to catch Yoongi’s nonchalant shrug. “Namjoon knows a little, why not just ask him to help?”

You opened your mouth to protest but the words died on your tongue as you allowed yourself to consider it for a moment. That… wasn’t such a bad idea, actually. Plus, Namjoon might tease you a little but at least he wouldn’t be a little gremlin about it like Yoongi or Taehyung.

“… Alright, perhaps that’s not a bad idea…” you admitted, begrudgingly. Yoongi’s featured brightened and you were witness to a sudden shit-eating, gummy grin.

“Admit it, I’m a genius,” he boasted, leaning over you to stare at you smugly. You groaned but couldn’t keep the laugh that followed from escaping.

“Never!” you refuted, reaching to smack his thigh once more. “Stay humble, if your head gets too big the few brain cells you have will get lost.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, rubbing his thigh where you got him; it wasn’t a hard hit at all but you managed to get him in one of the areas where the sensation lingered a bit. “Oh, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

A retort already bubbling up your throat, you sat up so you could argue a bit better. Yoongi resembled a smug cat as the two of you bickered, unaware of the eyes that watched from beyond the shrubbery, boring into you from one of the palace rooms that peered over the gardens.

x     x     x     x     x

 Jimin shouldn’t be as angry as he was.

Really, he had no right. There was nothing tying him to you, or you to him—nothing that staked any sort of claim over you on his behalf. Based on this, even if he found you attractive, he should not have been feeling what he did, to the degree that he did.

Catching sight of you and one of the humans from the Queen’s crew, Yoongi, wasn’t something he had expected to spark a raging inferno of emotions within him. And yet, the second he glimpsed the scene in the far corner of the gardens, he’d been almost over-encumbered with too many feelings to name; yet one in particular was sure to rear its head and make itself known.

Jimin refused to accept that the sight of you with Yoongi had made him jealous.

Ridiculous, it was ridiculous. Ever since you’d arrived here everything had been out of whack for him—nothing had gone as it should, as it was expected, as it always had for years before your arrival. You were a threat to the knowledge he thought he had of his world and way of life—the knowledge he thought he had of himself. Jimin knew that in years past he had proven himself to be a Kelkie of exceptional control, yet the second you drew too close to him, the second your eyes met his or your alluring scent brushed his nose, he felt the limbs hidden in his back stirring to life and fighting to be free like he was some inexperienced fledgling. With your presence in the palace he was living on his toes, and the only way he’d managed to save face thus far was because he’d taken to doing his best to avoid you—something that while achieved its purpose had him feeling bittersweet. Despite the barest relief he felt, he actually found that he missed you. He couldn’t believe the audacity of his heart that it longed for you even after all the trouble you’d given him so far.

At first he had tried avoiding you simply to save himself from acting in an embarrassing manner, but lately it had been for a somewhat different reason. He could sense it lingering in the air that you moved through, could catch the new sweet undertone to your scent as it touched his senses—he didn’t know much about the human cycle apart from what the Queen had once told him, but he could tell—was acutely aware— that you were at the peak of yours. You had been close a few days ago, and he had no doubt that today you were at the height of your fertility; and he hated that he knew that, that he was so finely attuned to you in a way he never had been to anyone else. The pheromones you didn’t even seem to realise you were emitting permeated the air wherever you ventured, and shamefully even the sight of you through the window had a knot of longing forming in the pit of his abdomen. It was even more out of hand than usual with the state your body was in and he didn’t think he would last very long at all if stuck in the same room as you.

Which, incidentally, is exactly what he would be tonight.

The kitchen staff had thrown together a mock-up run of the dishes and foods that they were considering for the celebration coming, and Seokjin had insisted that everyone gather at once to try them—although he hadn’t gotten around to telling everyone yet. Jimin suspected that the male missed the nights where everyone would dine together, including the King and Queen. Knowing that, he hadn’t had the heart to refuse him, even when he realised this meant he would be stuck dining a few feet away from the human that had been troubling him so much lately.

Truly, he was at war with himself—he enjoyed your presence, more than expected, but he was also incredibly conflicted. He wasn’t against having fun and the odd passionate tryst, but with you… it felt like he longed for more than that. Which, frankly, alarmed him greatly—the only person he should be feeling that way towards is his Fated One. So, what would happen if he indulged himself in you and then in the next sweep received his Fate Mark and with it the person he was to spend the rest of his life with? Would he want them? Would he want you? The prospect of such a situation was absolutely terrifying to him, and he didn’t know how to sort through the mess of emotions and thoughts it spawned within him.

He didn’t know what to do with the way you made him feel, yet each time he saw you he grew a little weaker in his resistance to you. Why was it that the heavens had decided to curse him so?

His footsteps were a little heavier than usual as he stomped down the hall that housed his rooms, eager for a moment of reprieve before he had to start preparing himself mentally for dinner. It had been only this morning that he caught sight of you and Yoongi in the gardens, yet the mood it had thrown him into had persisted for the rest of the day as he did his duties. The ugly, icky feeling it incurred within him had clung to his insides ever since—Jimin never had liked the sensation of jealousy, the few times he’d experienced it in his life, and the same proved true now. He hated it, yet could not stop its presence at the thought of you with someone else. He shouldn’t be bothered—you were human, shouldn’t he be pleased at the prospect of you being with another human? Yet his heart clenched painfully in protest at the thought, stomach dropping. Against his better judgement, he didn’t like the idea at all.

He felt a momentary sensation of calm and relaxation wash over him as he stepped through the doorway into his room, shoulders releasing the tension they carried along the walk there. The sensation proved to be fleeting as he recalled suddenly that Yoongi would be at the dinner along with you and the other humans, and suddenly he was tense and stressed all over again. A large sigh huffed past his lips, eyes closing as he scrubbed a hand over his face and pushed his hair back a little. God, he kind of wanted to nap if only to escape the stress for a few moments.

Allowing his eyes to slide open, he surveyed the contents of his room, attempting to avoid the area with his bed lest he be tempted. Surprise filtered across his features as he caught sight of something amiss, something new that he certainly hadn’t left on his desk before leaving earlier. Curious and apprehensive all at once, he approached the soft green box with what appeared to be a note tucked neatly beneath it. Tentatively, he took the box into his hands, the stone cool to the touch and decently heavy, and retrieved the note. He was never sure whether to read or open things first, but this time he opted to inspect the paper.

He wasn’t sure what he had expected when he opened it, but it hadn’t been a note written in messy scrawl that looked like it belonged to a fledgling. It was in his language, but he had a suspicion that the person writing it wasn’t exactly familiar with it. Still, he read it, and with each word he took in he felt surprise tickle his ribs and his heart stutter excitedly. The person had forgotten to sign their name but even without it Jimin had a strong suspicion as to who had left him this gift.

Unable to stop himself from opening the box now that he knew it was indeed a gift for him, he placed the note down and took great care in lifting the lid. Inside, sitting neatly upon plush cushioning that worked well to contrast with the metal of the piece it held, was a necklace. He felt his lips part as he took it in, slightly mesmerised, fingers of his free hand brushing gently over the silver and black chain and the large hoop that connected it. Even without the knowledge that it was a gift, most likely from a certain someone, he instantly liked it. It was just his style, and the fact that they’d known…

He placed the box down, moving the hand over his heart as he felt it skip a beat once more. Once more, it seemed you were proving to be more trouble than he was capable of handling.

What on Kilkhea was he going to do?

x     x     x     x     x     x     x

 When Seokjin had told you that there would be a small feast of sorts tonight and that pretty much everyone you knew would be attending, you hadn’t bothered attempting to hide your excitement at all. It had everything you loved. Food? Check. Your friends? Check. A fun family atmosphere? Check. Food? Check, check. You were almost bouncing off the walls before Taehyung laughed at you for it and you had to track him down to teach him a lesson. Seokjin had said that the food being served was all trials for the celebration that was coming, and that meant that given your food was normally good quality, this food was likely to be god-tier. You were almost drooling you were so damn excited.

Your renewed energy at the knowledge you were going to be fed well tonight meant that you were a little bit more unbearable than usual as you hung around the other humans, and by the time dinner actually rolled around you were sure Hoseok was ready to actually lay hands on you and choke you out. It was a recent development, since he’d actually joined you in your hyperactivity initially. You’d ended up outlasting him with your energy though, something that Namjoon, Yoongi and Taehyung found incredibly hilarious, and as soon as he was no longer in on your shenanigans he seemed to grow tired of them very quickly. As you all entered the small dining room where you’d be eating tonight you saw him beeline for the seat furthest away from you and couldn’t help but laugh. Did he think that would stop you? He really didn’t give you enough credit.

To your delight, even the guards you’d become so friendly with—Jongdae and Jongin as you recalled—had been allowed to sit in. The look they’d shared when they caught sight of you almost had you in stitches—especially since they were still under orders from Jimin to be keeping an eye on you and you’d slipped out of their watch earlier in the morning to spend the rest of the day free.

“Aren’t you two meant to be watching her?” Joy asked, having arrived at the same time they did and bearing witness to the fact it was without you in tow. She was more amused than anything, knowing firsthand how crafty you were, but still the two of them sputtered for an excuse.

“She—she is just so slippery!” Jongin burst, eyes wide and marks flaring a sheepish peach. “Every time we think she will cooperate, we turn our backs for a single second and when we look back she is gone!”

“And she tricks us,” Jongdae’s voice came out in a whine, pointing his finger at you accusingly. You smiled at him. “She leaves sweets and treats to distract us and escapes in our moment of weakness.”

You couldn’t hide your big, shit-eating grin because honestly you found the whole thing really funny—despite the fact you felt a little bad for deceiving them—and were having a riot listening to them talk.

“They’re gifts,” you said, no effort at all put towards sounding even remotely convincing. “Sometimes you look hungry so I leave things for you to eat, like a good friend.”

The two guards sputtered and you could hear Taehyung choking on a laugh behind you, snickering to Namjoon. Joy rolled her eyes, an affectionate smile tugging her lips, before she stepped in and urged everyone to take a seat since the food would be coming soon.

It didn’t take you long to notice that Seokjin and Jimin hadn’t arrived yet—oh the shock of excitement that bolted through you when you realised you’d finally see him—but almost as soon as you took note of that there were two familiar figures entering through the double doors and Taehyung was cheering.

“Yes! Just in time for the food to arrive—hurry and sit down we’re all hungry!”

You laughed, Yoongi snickering softly from beside you. Taehyung seemed to be right; as soon as Jimin and Seokjin entered from one door the kitchen staff entered from the other. The two hurried and took their seats, Seokjin across from you and Jimin next to him. You tried not to stare, you really did, but he just looked so good and it had been so long since you’d seen him—you kind of wanted to sob at how attractive he was. He’d donned a deep, deep purple set of silken clothes today, and when combined with his raven hair, the dangly silver earrings hanging from his lobes, the chains around his wrists and the rings sitting firmly and contrasting against golden skin on his fingers… it was a knockout look. Unable to help it, your gaze strayed momentarily to his neck on a curious whim—you wished the spike of disappointment within you wasn’t quite as prominent as it was. He wasn’t wearing it… that was fine. You hadn’t expected him to, really. Perhaps he just hadn’t gone to his room yet—

No, it was better if you didn’t think too hard about it. It was out of your hands now, you’d done your part in leaving it for him. What he did with it… technically didn’t concern you. You ignored the slight throb your heart gave and turned to the plates being placed along the table.

As the food was served there was inevitable chatter that followed, and you were surprisingly caught up with laughing at Seokjin and Yoongi, and occasionally Jongin, who was unfortunate enough to be seated on your other side and kept getting startled into dropping his food whenever you moved too quickly. Had you really traumatised them so much with your fleeing escapades?

Your natural inclination was to look at Jimin for the duration of the dinner, and you did look at him a fair bit, but for some reason tonight felt… different. It didn’t take long for you to notice that he was sitting stiffly in his seat, entire body tense, and each chew was accented with a clenched jaw that honestly had your stupid heart skipping a beat. Fuck, he was even hotter than usual. The nerve? The audacity? Right here in front of your… what was that on your plate, it looked to be a salad of sorts…?

Despite how your gaze was naturally drawn to the raven-haired male, every time you glanced towards him your attention was quickly drawn away by Yoongi or one of the others. And the second you turned from him, you could have sworn you felt eyes boring into your form with alarming intensity.  You didn’t ever catch him, he was always looking back to his plate or at someone else when you turned back, but the butterflies in your stomach and your gut feeling told you that the stare belonged to him. The thought excited you, but you were also confused. His usual response to your presence was fluster and embarrassment, sometimes he was even a little grumpy. You didn’t know what changed, but something had, and you were eager to poke and prod and find out exactly what had caused his behaviour to shift ever so slightly.

You felt the stare intensify whenever you leant closer to Yoongi, or the guard beside you. The more you experimented throughout dinner, the tenser Jimin seemed to become. You caught Seokjin shooting him looks that seemed to be a combination of concerned, knowing and amused, but he never voiced his concern out loud. He cracked a few jokes that had Jimin’s lips twitching into a slight smile at several points throughout the meal, but his features consistently fell back into their tense default.

By the time the meal was over and people began cleaning dishes up and filtering out of the room, you were absolutely itching to pounce on Jimin and resume your usual antics of annoying and flustering the hell out of him. You hadn’t seen him in a while, so the urge had built up and you were keen to make up for lost time. A part of you protested softly, the same part that stung a little more at each little sign of rejection he seemed to display, but it was easily silenced

You had a feeling that Jimin was going to try and make a run for it, and your suspicions were confirmed when not even a minute after he helped stack the plates nearest him, he was standing from his chair and bowing slightly to the table.

“Thank you very much for the meal,” he directed this to the staff, offering those that had come over a soft smile. You cursed the small morsel of jealousy that wormed its way into existence at that. “I think this line-up will work well for the event. Perhaps one or two more fruit dishes? They seem to be a favourite.”

The staff nodded eagerly, taking in his advice, and he offered them another smile before he turned on his heel and uttered that he was going to retire for the night. You could see how tensed the muscles in his back were as he walked away, posture stiff and straight. By the time you realised he was about to get away and you launched from your seat, he was already moving through the doorway. You had to act fast!

“Thank you for the meal, it was delicious—as usual!” you burst, grinning widely. The kitchen staff, well-acquainted with you by now, rolled their eyes fondly at your next words. “I will give you a full written report of my thoughts and bring it later, thank you!”

With that you ruffled Jongin and Yoongi’s hair, and then you bolted from the table, only nearly tripping once. You could hear Seokjin cracking a joke at your expense as you left but for once, ignored it. It pained you to do so, but you had a bigger objective in mind right now.

Quicker on your feet than you anticipated, you zipped through the open doorway and burst into the darkened hallway just in time to catch sight of Jimin while he was still barely visible. The lights hadn’t turned on in this hall yet, and you made sure to watch a little where you were going so that you didn’t fall flat on your face in front of your apparent crush.

You were certain he heard you coming, but just in case he didn’t you decided to announce your presence very loudly. “Jimin! Wait up, peach cheeks!”

Visibility wasn’t great in the hallway, yet you still managed to catch it as the male stiffened and halted for a moment, apparently surprised. Perhaps he hadn’t heard you coming?

When the male turned to face you, you felt your heart stutter before skipping several beats and setting off a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. His jaw was clenched once more, muscles along his throat shifting as he turned his head, and his marks glowed deep rosy red—but what had your knees wobbling slightly as you ran up to him was his eyes, dark and molten and absolutely boring into you from where he stood. His tongue darted to wet his lips before he spoke, a motion you couldn’t help but trace with your eyes.

“Do you need something, pesky human?” he inquired without any real bite, and you hated that even a nickname as dumb as that had your heart leaping when paired with the velvet tone of his voice. God, you’d really starved in the days he hadn’t been around, huh.

“Absolutely,” you answered, face straight save for the twitch of your lips. “It’s something you can help me with, actually.”

Jimin tilted his head, lids lowering ever so slightly as he held your gaze. You nearly stuttered at the way it made your stomach dip. “Oh? And what is that?”

“I’m very desperately in need.” You stepped closer, just barely noticing him stiffen further. You felt your grin spread across your features, unable to contain it any longer as you leant forward, barely a foot from his face, and poked his side softly. You felt a little bit of shame at what you were about to say but pushed it away—go big or go home. “Very desperately in need of you, Mr Jimin.”

There was a beat of silence as the kelkie registered what you said, before shifted into a reaction. Except, it wasn’t anything like the pink-cheeked flustered reaction you expected.

You had barely a moment to catch the shift in his gaze, the smoulder of new fire behind his eyes, before he was stepping forward suddenly, his hands moving so fast you almost didn’t see where they went until you felt them grip your hips. A gasp escaped you as you were moved backwards quicker than you could keep up with and your back pressed to cool stone, Jimin’s front pressed against your own. Your heart leapt into action, thudding unevenly against your ribcage as you stared at him with wide, shell-shocked eyes. Fuck. Fuck what the fuck—

“You need me?” his voice was low and raspy yet still ran against your ears like rich velvet. Your stomach dipped, arousal lighting your veins on fire. His hands gripped your hips tightly, one shifting up to grasp your waist; you curved into him instinctively. “You shouldn’t say such things so carelessly.”

Your heart was racing and your mouth was open in shock—you had no idea how to even begin processing what was happening, but he didn’t wait for your mind to catch up. His fingers dug into your supple flesh enough that the slight ache melted into pleasure and had a whine building in your throat—a whine that shifted into a squeak as he pressed you further into the wall and rolled his hips against yours, sending molten desire shooting along your spine and throbbing at your core. Your pulse was out of control at this point, and you could barely catch sight of his features in the darkness.

His thumb brushed up, pressing into the flesh over your ribs through the shirt and nearing dangerously close to the underside of your breast; you felt your breath catch in your throat. It was as though your mind was filled with nothing but static and acute awareness of just how close he was, brain unable to track anything else.

“You shouldn’t push so hard, little human, I’m not sure you’d like the end result,” his voice grew lower, tone laced with such promise that it had a shiver rolling down your spine. He leant closer, full lips brushing your cheek before they moved to your ear. You felt something foreign brush against your leg, dragging up the side of your thigh before brushing the skin where your shirt had ridden up. You jerked at the slick sensation, a gasp tearing from your lips. Jimin’s voice returned, lips tickling your ear as he spoke and making your knees weak.

“You are not the only one that can play, petal.”

And then just like that he was gone, cool air greeting you in the absence of his touch, and your mind was left reeling in its attempts to catch up. Flabbergasted, with your cheeks unbearably hot and legs wobbly, you just barely caught it as he disappeared into the shadows down the hall, the darkness shifting oddly behind him. A heartbeat later and he was gone from sight completely, and you were alone in the hall with a racing heart and your skin still tingling from the remnants of his touch.

What. What…

What the fuck just happened?

↞ prev. || three || next ↠

::[ please lmk what you think! & pls consider buying me a kofi if you’d like to support me in some way! <3 ]::

[bill-the-baker]

I’ve also decided to finish this decade with something more light-hearted, detailing the many trends that one can associate with the past ten years. I styled this picture in a similar fashion to those gaudy collages you have relating to the 1980s and 1990s, with this mainly being reflected in the style of this picture. The title of the picture holds a very minimalist design, and is shown from inside a phone, whilst the rest of the poster has a dull white background. These main design choices were added to reflect the omnipresence of smartphones in this decade, as well as the general trend of Minimalism, which has been followed by many companies in recent years. The decision to make the background seem plain was not completely because I’m feeling lazy, but because I tried to follow the trend of minimalism, a trend I personally hate because of how boring it is (I probably would have added in a pretty pattern if there was some other major design trend).

Beyond this though, there are a few other things I chose to add in to reflect the 2010s:

-Ragecomics- The basis of most early-2010s memes.

-Skrillex (or rather Dubstep in general)- A key figure in a genre of music that you either loved or hated.

-Obama- A fantastic President who laid the groundwork for change that will hopefully be built upon in the future.

-Hipster culture- Fresh-out-of-college rich kids who made avoiding the mainstream a mainstream trend.

-The Occupy Movement (“We are the 99%” sign)- A promising post-Great Recession movement with disappointing results.

Gay Rights- Gay marriage is now legal in places like the United States, and homosexuality is more accepted the western world, so much so that companies are now no-longer afraid to pander to them whenever June comes around. Still, other parts of the planet have yet to change their outdated ways.

Trans rights- With people like Caitlyn Jenner and Leelah Alcorn, Transgenderism has arrived into the forefront of social issues, though it remains a strongly divisive issue throughout the decade.

Drones- Like helicopters but smaller and cheaper.

Overwatch- An interesting game that offered a unique personality to the shooter genre in a decade oversaturated with annual Call of Duty releases.

Cuphead- A challenging run-and-gun platformer with a Golden-Age animation-style, showcasing what can be made through video games these days.

Minecraft- The game that doesn’t die. It defined the childhoods of many gamers who fondly remember the early-2010s, and has since made a major resurgence in the decade’s end.

Steven Universe- A much-loved show that offered many unique and progressive themes, which I can admire despite my mixed feeling for the show itself.

Gravity Falls- A show aimed at children didn’t have to be this immersive and interesting, but Alex Hirsch and his team did it anyway and offered the world two seasons of hilarious and yet gripping television.

Political correctness/Woke-ness (“That’s Offensive” speech bubble)- Something that has been pushed to death among the political mainstream, but especially by the Left, as people are silenced whilst others demand safe spaces to keep their precious feelings from being hurt. Political correctness is a somewhat-trend that is better off staying in this decade.

Shrek- Whilst the 2010s have been starved of a new Shrek film besides the contested “Shrek Forever After”, the “Shrek is Love, Shrek is Life” greentext story, despite its crude subject matter, has made the brutish but kind ogre a mainstay in meme culture, whilst offering people the opportunity to explore the nuances of the franchise, after growing up with the character.

Pewdiepie- Starting out strong in the decade, making a name for himself as “that funny Swedish guy who screams as scary games”, an incident in February 2017, in which he was called a Nazi by the mainstream media, resulted in him becoming a more independent and politically incorrect figure, before going on to unite the internet in a battle for the most subscribed YouTube channel against a corporation. He lost in the end, but it was fun while it lasted.

Tyler, the Creator- Offering a unique sound among waves of forgettable Pop music, Tyler evolved from an edgy but somewhat humorous rapper, to an interesting and poignant singer in this past decade, achieving near-mainstream success.

Marvel Cinematic Universe (Endgame logo)- Many mainstream cinemagoers are bound to have seen at least one of these groundbreaking movies in cinemas, with their intense action and perfectly balanced humour, all culminating in the outstanding films “Avengers: Infinity War” and “Avengers: Endgame”.

Death Grips- Unlike anything that has ever been popular among general audiences, the exciting tunes concocted by MC Ride and Zach Hill have remained in the minds of many younger and more alternative individuals.

My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic- Arguably the most unlikely of fanbases to come around in this decade, this re-imagining of an 80s cartoon series had a style of humour and storytelling that peaked the interests of a group of adult men known as “Bronies”, who’s reasons for being interested were questioned and much of the internet hated them, but they were certainly something to behold throughout these years.

The 2016 Presidential Election (Hilary Clinton and Donald Trump)- A time many can regard as the branching-off point between the first and second halves of the decade, as the extremes of both sides were exposed to the world with astonishing results.

Vine- A social media platform that has since disappeared off the face of the Earth, but brought about many notable celebrities and memes that are often remembered by younger generations.

Vaporwave- Alongside Hipsters, Vaporwave was perhaps one of the few examples of a concrete “counter-culture” movement, offering an anti-Capitalist message within its use of music and iconography from the 1980s and 1990s. Since then, it is best known for offering a warm and interesting “aesthetic”.

Pepe the Frog- A frog best known for saying “Feels Good Man” earlier on, was later used by certain Right-wingers and has since been touted as a symbol of hat. But, with a smug grin like that, it appears that he doesn’t seem to care about what others say.

Social media- It already played a massive role from the mid-2000s-onwards, but now, the scale of social media has grown exponentially, with people moving away from mainstream news and entertainment and instead choosing to get their kicks on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and YouTube. This focus on gaining the news from social media has held some negative consequences as fake news continues to fool gullible Boomers.

Hyperbeast fashion- In terms of fashion, the Hypebeast is the late-2010s’ version of the Hipster, though unlike Hipsters, who are financially-independent rich kids who make questionable purchasing decisions, Hypebeasts are often preteen/teenagers who suck money out of the credit cards of their rich parents.

Adventure Time- A rather interesting cartoon that started off as a fun show to get high to, but evolved into a gripping epic with an expansive lore and interesting world.

Minions- While they were rather annoying to older viewers following their introduction in the otherwise top-tier film Despicable Me, children and especially 40-something year-old Facebook Mums couldn’t get enough of these wacky tic-tacs.

Brexit- A subject that I, as a Brit, couldn’t seem to get away from in the past few years, as politicians refused to move forward with the people’s decision. But, with the Tory majority in Parliament, as depressing as that sounds, it seems possible that we can finally move on as a country to more important matters.

Vaping (Juul-smoking mouth)- Recovered chain-smokers and rebellious teens have made this trend a popular pastime, though its popularity has waned recently over health concerns.

Doge- Whilst it began as a singular image of a cartoonish-looking Shiba Inu making a weird face, as brightly-coloured Comic Sans surrounds her, this dog has become the subject of many surreal and unique memes, taking on many different forms, solidifying the transformative nature that all memes should strive for.

Hoverboards, Fortnite, Dabbing, and Fidget Spinners (The monstrosity on the bottom-right)- What do a handle-less Segway, a more cartoony (but somewhat better) version of PUBG, a dance based off of post drug-taking sneezes and small bits of metal for Autistic children have in common? They have all ascended to levels of annoying trends that at least some people have had fun with.

Undertale (Sans)- An interesting game that has gained a heavy degree of fame for its interesting themes and interesting characters, some of which have been admired a bit too much by certain teenage girls.

As for my personal experiences of this decade, I can say that, whilst I was born in the early-2000s, I was definitely raised in the 2010s. Much of my memories of the previous decade are rather minimal, and I didn’t follow that many trends considering I only lived on constant repeats of SpongeBob by the start of this decade. Since then, though I have gained many impactful memories from these past few years. Some good, some bad, some great, all of which were a part of growing up. In about two-weeks’ time, I will finally become a legal adult, and shall begin the rest of my life. So, I wish you all well, and hope your Twenties are truly roaring!

[realfuurikuuri]

MissingArm!AU Chapter 5: The Torment of A Father

This one took a long time to get out. It was actually done and supposed to be uploaded on thanksgiving, but I got too busy to get that done, and the next day was another hassle, so here we are. I don't really have much to say for this chapter, aside from the fact that it's the first in a set of 3 that I've been wanting to finish since I started writing this. As the usual check out @spookylovesboba on a social media site of your choice, and uh... I have a good music recommendation for this chapter. I couldn't find a song that plays into its themes so... pick one for yourself, I guess. Leave it as a comment and I'll give it a listen.

Direct link to chapter 5 on AO3: XXX

Chapter below the cut

Mao Mao walked through town using a sheathed Geraldine as a cane. Because his feet still hurt. It was a warm day with large clouds. It hadn’t gotten windy yet, so the rain was still a bit off.

Badgerclops and Adorabat had only left yesterday, and he knew he should get some rest, but Mao Mao had stuff to do. Like, meet up with Ol’ Blue for his appointment. Who would’ve thought the Valley would have a therapist? He expected the closest one to be in the nearest kingdom. He was lucky that the valley had one, yet he didn’t feel very lucky. He knew he’d needed a therapist. Basic introspection was enough to tell him that. He didn’t want to go. He never wanted to go. He still didn’t want to go. However, he was a grown-ass man. He could take care of himself.

He stood in front of the door to the office. It was the same as the one he wrote down, yet he still checked it over and over. He was just postponing the inevitable. He was a grown adult! He could do this!

Not without a drink first.

Mao Mao hobbled his way into a 24-hour convenience store. He worked his way to the back where the booze was. They didn't have the kind he liked. Mao Mao faintly heard the doors chime as someone else walked in; he considered seeing who it was before deciding he should hurry and pick a drink. He was juggling on getting a can or bottle when he heard a commotion a familiar voice.

“Just give me the money,” it said.

Mao Mao sighed, deciding on the can, walking up to the front of the store. There he was, pressing his golden dagger to a sweetipies throat, was his son.

“What in the hell are you doing?” he asked.

Jǐngtì rolled his eyes. “What does it look like I’m doing? This is a stickup. A sheriff should know that.”

“If you needed money, you should’ve just asked.  I’m your dad I would have given you some.”

“Don’t worry, I already know your credit and debit information. Thought the bank would have called you by now?”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said,” also, you probably want to check your credit score.”

Mao Mao pinched the bridge of his nose. “Listen, just… get off of the counter.”

Jǐngtì eyed his father before driving his fist into the sweetipies nose and getting off the counter. Not the best outcome, but Jǐngtì listened, which was more than he expected.

They left the store after giving the sweetipie some ice. Mao Mao walked closely behind his son. He had no other place to go, rather; he had no other place he wanted to go. Jǐngtì noticed his father and let out an annoyed grunt, picking up his pace. At first, it was a brisk walk, then a run, then a race. Mao Mao continued to follow them, even though his feet were leaving bloody paw prints.

Jǐngtì jumped off a bench, springing off a lamppost to the rooftops. Mao Mao repeated the movements, following closely after his son. Jǐngtì suddenly swung around. Mao Mao stumbled to a stop. Jǐngtì’s claws grazing his cheek instead of his eye. It was easy to forget that he was part cat. He had tufted fur around his shoulders, and a bushy tail, but kept a sense of balance and hidden claws. He preferred using the tanuki magic he inherited from his mother (it wasn’t that hard to realize why) but he still knew how to make best use of his feline traits.

Jǐngtì quickly broke from the rooftops, springing off the rooftops with a backflip, and reaching out with both arms to pull himself into a window in one smooth motion. A move that a one-armed man shouldn’t be able to do. Mao Mao jumped off the edge, sticking Geraldine through the window to use as a lever to pull himself inside.

Jǐngtì was waiting for him with one foot out the window and a purple ox in his arms. He looked Mao Mao square in the eye before throwing the ox in one direction and leaving in the other.

That would have worked on anyone else.

Mao Mao went after the ox first. He caught it the air, landing on a shop awning, setting the ox neatly on its feet before the awning snapped back like a trampoline, sending Mao Mao flying through the air, back to the rooftops.

Jǐngtì sneered at the act, gritting his teeth, and stamped his foot against the shingles. “God, just stop following me! What the fuck do you want!”

“I just want to talk,” he said.”

“About what?”

Good question.

“What are you carrying,” Mao Mao blurted out.

Jǐngtì looked at the plastic bags he was carrying with some disbelief. “Shouldn't you know what groceries are?”

“I know what groceries are,” he said,” I mean why do you have them?”

“Shouldn’t you also know that people need to eat?”

“No. I mean like… what are you doing here?”

“Getting groceries.”

Could the kid try not to get on his nerves? “What I mean to ask what are you still doing in the valley?”

“You and I still have some unfinished business, of course. Why wouldn't I still be here?”

“I just thought Tanya would have picked you up before she left.”

“Mom was here?”

Mao Mao felt like he just picked the wrong answer in one of Badgerclops’ dating sims.

Jǐngtì stopped. Mao Mao expected him to cry. He could already see tears, yet Jǐngtì just blinked them away with a sigh. Jǐngtì said nothing else. He slowly turned around and began to walk away.

“Wait!”

Mao Mao grabbed Jǐngtì by the wrist.

“What do you want?”

Mao Mao paused while he thought of a reason. “You want to get something to eat?”

* * *

Jǐngtì sat on the bench outside Muffin’s Bakery, twiddling his thumbs while he waited for his father. If it was up to Jǐngtì he would have picked somewhere else. Dessert wasn’t his favorite thing, but he didn’t really care. He was still numb. He expected mom to show up eventually, sooner rather than later, but he at least expected to meet her. He was just another afterthought. Jǐngtì shook his head and wiped tears from his eyes. Don’t let it show. Can’t let it show.

Don’t be weak. Can’t be weak.

He pulled up the bandana and rubbed the tears out of his eyes. He searched around for something to focus on before he broke down completely. He settled on looking over his shoulder to the inside of the bakery. His father leaned against the counter, waiting for the order. His eyebrows knitted together. The fox inside was giving Mao Mao a wide berth, shuffling in his seat, and sweating nervously. Muffin didn’t seem to notice the hard air. Were all sweetipies oblivious? Jǐngtì preferred not to dwell on sweetipies; all the sweetipies creeped him the fuck out. They were just so weird.

Jǐngtì watched Mao Mao get the order and sit down next to him. Mao Mao got beignets while Jǐngtì got the cobbler he didn’t want. He only got cobbler because he knew it annoyed his dad for some reason. He didn’t feel like annoying his dad, so why the hell did he even get it? Jǐngtì almost got up and threw it away until he remembered the pit in his stomach. Something disgustingly sweet was better than nothing.

They sat in silence for a moment before Jǐngtì spoke up.

“Why are you using your sword like that,” Jǐngtì asked.

“Using it as a cane? It’s because I hurt my feet the other day.”

“Fighting that monster?”

“Yeah.”

The pointless and pathetic small talk quickly gave way to silence again. They sat like that for another moment when Mao Mao managed to say something.

“How are you feeling,” Mao Mao asked.

“Why do you care?”

“I’m your dad. Caring is what I’m supposed to do.”

“I know,” he said,” I’m just wondering why you’re suddenly starting to do that now.”

“I’ve always cared-”

“Did you?” Jǐngtì interrupted. “Did you really? I go to prison and you do... whatever this is. Became babysitter to a bunch of creepy fucking toddlers? I know for a fact that you could have done something to get me out of prison.”

“It’s not that easy-”

“It really is. You could have paid bail yourself.. I know for a fact this goddamn ‘mao clan’ or whatever has enough money to literally pay a king’s ransom with excess. Instead, you let Mom spend 4 years collecting the money herself.”

Mao Mao stumbled over his words. “I… the situation was complicated. The monarchy-”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he calmly said.

“What?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Jǐngtì shuffled to the other side of the bench, refusing to even look his father in the eye.

“Why’d you get the groceries?”

“Cause I was hungry and would rather not starve to death because none of them want to do chores?”

“Who’s ‘them’?”

“My… roommates, I guess.”

“What roommates? Who are you staying with? Where are you staying?”

“Sky Pirates.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Mao Mao jump to his feet and begin pacing back and forth.

“Why would you?” He took a deep breath, taking the time to gather his thoughts. “You’re staying with the sky pirates?”

“Yes.”

“Why? I have a room at HQ you could have stayed in.”

“I didn’t want to. Matter of fact, I still don’t want to.”

“You shouldn’t be staying with the sky pirates-”

“I don't see why it's such a fucking problem with you! You went years without a call or even a letter! I can’t understand why you suddenly want anything to do with me.”

“Why wouldn’t I want anything to do with you? I’m your father.”

“You sure as hell don’t act like it.”

* * *

Mao Mao coiled his tail around his finger. It was a replacement habit. When he had both arms he tended twiddle his thumbs. The new habit gave him something to do while he thought of something to say.

What could he say?

“Look, son-”

“Don’t call me that,” he snapped.

Mao Mao ignored it.

“Son, I know that… things were difficult. It was prison. It has to be. It must have been an incredibly difficult time for you.” He put his arm over Jǐngtì’s shoulder. “You had to learn to do things on your own, learn to make judgments for yourself, with no guidance or advice.”

“It must have been a painful thing to go through. It had to be. You managed to survive it and now you’ve come out stronger. You’ve gotten rid of a bit of that weakness. Leaving you in jail wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision. It was a lesson. It taught you about consequences and weakness and-” I know it sounds harsh, but-”

Jǐngtì quickly stood up before he could finish. He took a deep breath and stared at the ground while he thought. “I know it sounds harsh, but-”

Mao Mao never got to try to justify himself.

Jǐngtì grabbed Mao Mao by the face and pushed him back with all his might. Mao Mao went over the bench crashing through the Bakery’s storefront. Mao Mao righted himself, stumbling into a landing, using only a cat's instinct. The danger of surprise attacks lay in the ‘surprise’. If it didn’t win the fight outright, the sudden switch created an opening. Mao Mao knew this; Jǐngtì did as well. His son seized the opportunity. He lunged forward. A punch that should have landed. Mao Mao caught it with his right hand; a feat only possible because the move and strategy was something he taught his son. A surprise throw to create a gap for a well-timed finish.

“A single wrong move can turn the tides,” he said, pulling Jǐngtì in for a leg sweep counter.

Mao Mao felt something strike the side of his head. An elbow split his skin. “A single wrong move can turn the tides,” Jǐngtì smugly repeated.

To know that he’d pull him in for a leg-sweep creating just enough space for an elbow that a one-armed man couldn’t stop. Did he read that far ahead? Mao Mao couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as everything tilted.

He grabbed Jǐngtì’s arm. They began to fall. Jǐngtì prepared to grapple on the ground, however, Mao Mao pushed off the ground, reeling back and then pushing Jǐngtì away with all his weight.

Mao Mao was still reeling from the attacks, his sense of balance too busy somersaulting to keep him from falling on broken glass. A stray shard went into his side, slipping past the ribs into the meat.

The pain was blinding. All Mao Mao could do was lie there in pain, waiting for Jǐngtì’s finisher. Would it be a kick to the skull? A stomp to the face? Mao Mao put his money on the forme; It seemed more Jǐngtì’s style. He waited and waited, but it never came.

Mao Mao pried himself off the ground.  He considered pulling out the shard but decided it was the only thing keeping him from bleeding out, so it was best to leave it. He looked for Jǐngtì, finding him back outside, sitting on the bench. Mao Mao grabbed used Geraldine as a cane to stumble toward his son, heaving for breath, barely able to even stand.

“How do you do it,” Jǐngtì asked. “How do you manage to come so close to doing something right? How do you manage to mess it up so swiftly, so consistently, so easily that it makes blinking look like a deadlift?”

Mao Mao had nothing to say.

“I’ll cover the damages. It was my fault. I got mad. I just thought… you might have changed, or at least learned your lesson.”

Jǐngtì stood up, grabbed his groceries, and walked away.

Mao Mao wanted to feel sad. He wanted to feel regret. He wanted there to be tears in his eyes, he wanted to say something, but he had nothing. No regret. No remorse. No rage. All his emotions and energy had been spent up and burnt out. He just felt tired. So unbelievably tired.

With nothing left to do, with nothing he wanted to do, he headed back home.

* * *

Somewhere along the long walk home, across the Valley’s grassy foothills, the pain had gone away. Actually, it would be better to say he had just gotten used to it. Maybe he’d just sleep with the shard in his side. He could probably take care of it tomorrow. Mao Mao felt a yawn come up, but he didn’t even have the energy to get it out. He put his head down and kept walking even though he was half-asleep. Habit and muscle memory would be enough to carry him the rest of the way. Maybe he’d get lucky and fall asleep with his eyes closed.

Mao Mao crossed the crest of the final foothill, absently hearing something. “Now where is he? I called and called, but he didn’t answer the phone. Does he actually live here? Thing looks like a dollhouse.”

Mao Mao could have sworn he recognized the voice. Who did it belong too? It didn’t belong to anyone in the Valley. Who was it? Damn! The name was on the tip of his tongue.

Bam!  

Mao Mao stumbled back clutching his bloody nose. Did he just walk into his own front door? That was what he gets for not paying attention.

“Mew Mew! There you are, my boy! What are you doin’ walking with your eyes closed? Don’t tell me you lost your sight. Already lost your arm can’t have you losin’ much more than that can we?” he said with a hearty gut-filled laugh Mao Mao hadn’t heard in nearly a decade.

The realization knocked the wind out of Mao Mao.

“Papa?”

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

The Siren & The Healer

Natasha Romanoff arc

Prologue: The Unknown

Platonic Natasha x fem!Reader, Loki x fem!Reader

Theme: With cracks between the most powerful superheroes of the earth, Natasha Romanoff does not find rest when she is assigned on a mission to find the missing pieces of a puzzling power that once nearly got into the hands- rather, tentacles- of Hydra. In order to unearth the pieces, she must dig through her own past and make a decision that might decide the fate of the earth in the coming wars.

Series: Will contain violence, death, destruction, softness, fluff, smut, friendship, and whatnot

Chapter warnings: drive safe

A/N: This was written a few years ago with an OC in mind so reader has a name but it is a reader insert.

MASTERLIST in bio, love

The silence of vacuum is unlike any other. There is an absolute absence of any disturbance around you. Purest form of final layers, muted. Here, you can hear no one. Here, no one can hear you. It is that plane of metaphorical peace where one truly zones out every other bit of noise. No sensation disturbs your auditory senses. Nothing grazes your nerve endings. It is plain deadly silence. But the lull of vacuum in space is a phenomenon of its own kind. Everything around you is dark and light all at the same time. Alluring in every sense. Even as you are feeling your final breaths being scooped out of you by an invisible hand, gushing out of your throat to bring all the molecules out of your lungs, you are sure to think at least once that it might actually not be a bad place to die after all.

That was Loki’s thought. The view of his galactic home was the last thing he saw when he had come to and was the last thing he thought he would see as his sluggish healing under the fatal injuries could not keep up with the foreign space around him, eroding his existence cell by cell, chipping away at his skin bit by bit into the void surrounding him, nearly causing him to choke on the grim memories of the last time he was aimlessly floating in space like this, accelerating his breathless state and heart burning in the cold that bitterly surrounded his body.

Today, unlike the day he let the void swallow him wholly to find that peace in death which he could not find in his life or in his family, his tears made a hushed satellite call to no one in particular - a prayer from the God for some sign. He did not even know who he was asking for. There was no one left now. Nothing to go back or look forward to. He didn't know if his brother had made it out alive. The last trace of his supposed family gone for all he knew.

And still, a thought passed him. A thought of his mother’s warm embrace. The one thing he had reminisced time and again in his mind so as not to forget her face after her death. And even as he floated in the infinite abyss, he internally chuckled at himself for living his last moment just like he had lived his first - alone.

So the chaos that was me was born to be undone by chaos, after all, he thought to himself, feeling the final choke of the empty inside his body.

He saw his floating hands turn blue in front of him before the frost gathered. Why was death such a slow and dull process? His red eyes felt the pinch of the frost as they began blurring his vision; the illuminated space around him gradually turning white.

And the monster dies the death that was written for him in the stone he was abandoned upon on the day he was born.

The frost gnawed with a warm glow near his cheek. It would have made him flinch, if he could in that situation, for this was nothing like the cold he was used to. He waited for it to dissipate in his final second and nudge him into eternal sleep if not into a specially made hell.

But it did nothing of that sort. It only glowed further; growing into an uninvited warmth that slowly penetrated his skin before he could fathom the absurdity of unknown energy illuminating him on the inside. The white in front of his eyes started to melt away a little, allowing him to see an obscurity floating beside him. He wanted to speak but the icy dryness inside his throat prevented him from doing so.

Who are you? A confused mellifluous feminine voice ran throughout his nerves, reigniting the functioning sparks that had been dying a few seconds ago, feeling a wave of warmth wash inside him.

He felt it should be him asking that question to this stranger before he felt the same spirit engulfing his hand where the fuzzy figure floated beside him. He felt a surge of chagrin inside him - now that death was leaving him reluctantly - as he realised it was the figure’s hands warming his face and palm. He wanted to take one good look at the face of the one picking him up from the frustrated grip of annihilation, and he nearly caught a glimpse of beady y/e/c eyes staring back at him before a blazing light instantly made them disappear along with the figure that bore them, flooding his vision with a golden white before he felt himself colliding with a solid surface.

“What the hell, Rocket?!” A tired groan left the God as he slid off the glass and into unconsciousness. ���You killed a man!”

______

It was one of those midsummer mornings where the ceiling fan was enough to remove the hefty sweat the hot fireball outside had been working on for quite some time but the obnoxious breeze would just twirl its way through the greenery surrounding your house before coming through your door and windows to take away the unnecessary heat.

There was no humdrum outside but you still woke up because something had been tickling your brain for quite a while. A thought was hiding somewhere behind those everyday intricate speculations like one stubborn louse that you know is there but it just wouldn’t come out.

You could see the garden outside and the wall marking the boundary as you walked from your living room towards the door. The house in front seemed to have freshly painted their outer walls- either that or the sun hitting them from behind your home seemed to do the trick. It was barely two steps to the door now when you saw them.

A man in a blue mask- wait, was that a mask or a...helmet- with wings painted on each side of the head wearing matching blue uniform with a star right in the middle of his chest.

Is that a frisbee? Why is he running with such a huge frisbee?

Your mind was still trying to figure out what to make of this when another man came running from the same direction before suddenly coming to a halt to take a stick from his backside and give it a slight jerk to turn it into a bow while his other hand was already placing an arrow over it to shoot whatever it was that you could not see from where you stood. So curiosity took your neck and turned it with the movement of the men dressed funny, running in your street as if they knew what they were doing.

“What are you doing here?”

“Gah!”

The green eyes staring directly at you through the door did not take you by as much surprise as the flaming hair all around that mildly shocked, smouldering face. Giving five seconds to your brain to dilute the shock and you realised those weren’t flames, just this strange, beautiful woman’s hair.

“I live here.” you finally blurted out, watching the woman turned to look at the man with a frisbee aim it at something in the sky which- again- you were not able to get a good look at.

Oh for fuck’s sake!

Opening the door, you stepped on your porch to see what all the ruckus was about in your quaint neighbourhood.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

You were used to people give you the ‘are you kidding me’ face but it felt creepily horrifying coming from this complete stranger.

“You know who I am,” she scoffed in your face before the line between her brows became more prominent, “we’re here for the healer.”

“The healer?” you asked half-heartedly, your attention drawn towards something blowing up in the distance, “who’s that?”

You didn’t hear a response and hence strained your neck to look back at her only to find her standing there looking at you in pure confusion.

“What?”

That was supposed to be a question till you saw the huge yellow monstrous eyes behind her blink and contract before an alien growl broke through the air, waking you up from your nightmare.