#just like a brief summary of what they did/under what names etc of their history in chikara

[the-kipsabian]

fellas im sure someone has intel on this, so im just gonna ask

i require the colony, orange cassidy and chuck taylor in chikara info please

[ahgaseda]

aura | two

driving me crazy, look in my eyes, follow me, come here, dance with me now, I’m gonna make you feel like that...

summary : back again at a camp for kids that can’t behave, you are still brokenhearted over your ill-fated romance with Jaebeom, until your friend Jackson offers to help make your ex jealous in exchange for helping him land the most unattainable girl at camp.

warnings : strong profanity, explicit dialogue, recurring alcohol or recreational drug use, graphic sexual content, brief mentions of illegal activities, potentially triggering elements involving toxic relationships and emotional manipulation, etc.

miniseries chapters : one / two / three / four / five / six / seven

Jackson could feel his head spinning out of control. There you were in his bed. Naked save for the dark silky sheets wrapped snugly around your body. You were curled up across from him, sound asleep with your lips slightly parted.

Your moans were still echoing in his ears, because nothing got Jackson off like sounds of pleasure. Especially when he was the cause. Shivers raced up his spine at the thought of you beneath him, made all the more arousing by the deep red lines your nails left down his back.

On his side, mirroring your position, Jackson merely stared. Fuck, he wanted to curse aloud. He really had just slept with his best friend. And more than once. Reaching forward, Jackson delicately brushed some disheveled hair from your face and rubbed his thumb over your cheek.

Fuck, Jackson thought again, pulling his hand back.

Given your histories (and your current dilemma with Jaebeom), Jackson made sure to rock your world if it was the last thing he did. He buried his head between your thighs, stroked your sweet spot with the pads of his fingers, and brought you to ecstasy on his tongue.

You begged him for more and Jackson was all too happy to oblige you.

Fuck, he had groaned when he pushed himself inside your heat. You winced at the pressure and he staggered out a breath at the tight vice of your cunt.

Your fingers pressed unforgiving into the skin of his lower back, your legs high on his waist as you accepted him deep. Jackson could see the tension on your face, the way you hid your nerves at the stretch. He had been much bigger than you were expecting.

Jackson remembered then it was only your second time and he slowed his pace. He rocked gently into you, coaxing your body to accommodate him. The patient thrusting helped you open up and it kept him from blowing his load in the first two seconds.

“God, you’re tight,” Jackson said under his breath, dropping his head to the crook of your neck and bottoming out.

You hummed softly when his lips began to suck at your skin. “Does it feel good?” you asked, a mix of teasing and curiosity.

“So good, baby,” Jackson whispered.

I’m fucked, was what he had wanted to say.

The moment you gripped him tighter, drawing him in closer, and sighed out a moan, Jackson knew he was doomed. He would do anything and everything you asked of him, if he could just bury himself in the heaven that was your body.

Jackson shook the memory from his head, still staring at your sleeping form. The first round may have been slow and tender, but what followed was anything but. No sooner had he caught his breath were you on him. He had inadvertently opened the floodgates and discovered you were as insatiable as he was.

You rode him until he cried out your name. He pinned you on your stomach and pounded you from behind until you begged for mercy and he gave you release instead. The two of you rolled around beneath the sheets till they were damp with sweat.

But it didn’t matter how much pleasure Jackson gave you, how many times he brought you to toe-curling release - there was still a twinge of guilt. You were sleeping with him to spite another man. Any other day Jackson would be happy to serve as such use, but you were his best friend. He was supposed to keep you from making bad decisions.

Not letting you indulge them by becoming the actual indulgence.

Jackson decided to justify it under the guise of helping you move on. Maybe if you got some orgasms you would stop pining over Jaebeom’s mediocre skills.

You stirred then and Jackson was at attention. He wondered if you would wake up and instigate more sex. One glimpse of your breasts and he would undoubtedly get hard again. Jackson shook that mental image out of his mind quickly and focused on dropping the obligatory “bomb dick put your ass to sleep” joke.

Your eyes cracked open and you peered at him groggily.

“Hi,” Jackson rasped.

“Hi.”

A short silence ensued and it was physically painful for Jackson. When you said nothing, he asked, “How are you?”

You thought a moment, recollecting the events of the past few hours, and replied, “Sore.”

Jackson chuckled in relief. He was known for his stamina, but you had him running on empty. “I’m sorry.”

You snorted and narrowed your eyes. “No you’re not.”

Jackson flashed a grin. “Okay, I’m not.”

With a chuckle, you rolled to your back, running a hand through your messy hair.

Jackson swiftly reached over to pull up the sheet where it had fallen slightly on your chest.

You glanced down curiously and teased, “Don’t wanna see me naked anymore?”

Jackson was quick to explain, “If I see your boobies again, my dick will be up and ready to go.”

You laughed, covering your mouth shyly as you felt heat behind your cheeks. “Is that all it takes?”

Jackson bobbed his head, amused at your reaction. “Depends on the tits, but yeah, pretty much. Super effective.”

“Tell your friend to keep it together down there,” you joked, eyes shifting down his naked body. “I’m worn out.”

Jackson moved to lay on his back at your side, both of you looking up at the slowly turning ceiling fan. “Don’t worry. He is too.”

You placed a hand over your lower stomach and grumbled, “Please tell me the cramping is normal.”

Jackson sidled closer until he could feel you against him. “According to one of my exes, yes. Unfortunately it can happen when things get a little too… vigorous.”

You wanted to smack him for sounding so arrogant, but opted instead to deadpan, “I’m relieved that my best friend is an all-knowing sex god.”

“Hey, don’t inflate the ego,” Jackson chided playfully. “It also makes the dick hard.”

You laughed again.

Silence returned, but this time it wasn’t uncomfortable. The post-coital conversation had been handled and nothing was left up in the air. Once you gathered enough energy, you dragged your feet to the bathroom and cleaned yourself up. Jackson offered you one of his long sleeve shirts to sport while you stayed in his room.

Part of you was still in disbelief. Here you were, in Jackson’s cabin, in his bed with a persistent ache between your thighs. He was now propped back against pillows, flipping through channels on the flatscreen, and you were tucked to his side, head on his chest.

Jackson leaned slightly, trying to sneak a glimpse of your face, and asked, “You didn’t eat earlier, did you?”

You shook your head.

“Yeah, me neither,” he huffed, thinking briefly. “Should we order a pizza?”

You shrugged.

Annoyed, Jackson barked, “Alright, dialogue would be nice.”

“I just…,” you murmured, head spinning. “Can’t believe we had sex.”

Jackson chortled. Then, his expression fell. “Are you freaking out?”

You sat up to face him, hair a mess over your shoulder, and braced your hands on your bare knees. All you sported was his shirt, like some kind of trophy. “No, but I feel different.”

Jackson cocked a brow. He was getting nervous and tried to hide it. “In what way?”

You smiled bashfully and said, “Like you broke the spell a little bit.”

Jackson’s lips parted in a devilish grin. “Did I?” he asked smugly.

You rolled your eyes at his tone, but continued, “Yeah, it’s like - with Jaebeom, the whole summer was spent flirting and seducing and in the end it was one quick, awkward slip of a dick and done.”

Jackson laughed at that.

You pushed his chest until you had his attention again, giggling all the while. “But with you it was hot and heavy and everything just built up until it exploded.”

Jackson pinched your cheek and taunted, “Glad I could make your toes curl.”

“I always thought that was just an expression, but fuck yeah, did they curl.”

Jackson studied you and tilted his head. “You’re cute.”

“And we’re still best friends, right?”

“Absolutely. I can’t live without you.”

You simpered, relieved. For once it felt like having your cake and eating it, too. At the thought of cake, your stomach growled. “Let’s go get food.”

Jackson practically soared off the bed.

After redressing into your clothes from before, you stepped outside and were shocked to see night had fallen. The crickets sang and frogs croaked. The lake nearby shone with the reflection of the moon.

Turning to Jackson, you gawked. “How long were we in there?”

“A while,” he snickered.

“The mess hall is gonna close any minute.”

“All aboard,” Jackson announced, stepping in front of you and crouching down.

You giggled, clambering onto his back and squealing when he grabbed your legs, proceeding to piggyback you all the way there.

Given that dinnertime had long passed, the dining hall was sparse. There were a few stragglers. Some merely stuck around to chat. Most were snacking.

Jackson set you down and you adjusted your clothes, peering inside to check for Jaebeom.

“You go ahead,” you said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Suit yourself,” Jackson replied, kissing your cheek in parting.

No sooner had the door closed did someone sneak up behind you.

“Hard to get close to you with a bodyguard lurking around,” Jaebeom jeered.

You whirled around to snap, “In what way, shape or form have I made you think I want you near me?”

“Don’t be like that, baby girl. I remember when you couldn’t keep your hands off me.”

Jaebeom still enthralled you. His perfect shoulders and perfect hands and perfect fucking face.

It was downright infuriating.

Fortunately, you were feeling pretty obstinate at the moment and countered, “I must have done a number on you since I’ve moved on and clearly you haven’t.”

Jaebeom frowned, vexed. Every girl he loved and left came crawling back for more. He had it down to a science. But no matter how many girls were ready to throw themselves at him, his pride couldn’t stand you not falling in line.

You stepped back when Jaebeom approached, extending his arm to cage you against the wall. The scent of him made your heart turn. You remembered carding your fingers through his hair and breathing him in when he was on top of you. You thought it had been so perfect.

And it was all a lie.

Jaebeom whispered, “I was good to you, wasn’t I?”

You folded your arms in defiance. “How do you figure that? I recall only one of us getting off.”

“It was your first time,” Jaebeom whined. “Do you know how hard it is to make a virgin come?”

You peered up at him and said, “Jackson makes me come over and over.”

Jaebeom’s eyes flickered. His blood boiled and his expression devolved into a frown. “Does he now?”

Realizing you had him on the ropes, you stood a little taller and ran a hand down his chest, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle in his shirt. “Yeah, maybe you should talk shop with him sometime. He can give you a few pointers.”

Jaebeom’s pulse quickened at the touch of your hand, but seethed at your words.

Pushing his arm out of your way, you grabbed the door of the mess hall and gave him one last insult, “I mean, if you’re gonna make a career out of deflowering girls, you should at least be good at it.”

Jaebeom watched the door close behind you and he was quick to head inside, though he didn’t give chase. Briefly he watched you stride to the line to get food, then his eyes scanned over the tables until he found Jackson.

Meanwhile, Jackson shoved a piece of chicken into his mouth and didn’t even look up when Jaebeom took the empty seat beside him.

“What’s your game, Wang?” Jaebeom asked roughly.

Jackson replied, “I’m gonna bag Yeona,” and tossed back a gulp of soda.

“Oh please,” Jaebeom retorted, unconvinced. “She’s impenetrable. Literally.”

“Uh-huh.”

Jaebeom shot a glance across the room, spotting Yeona near the wall with a small group of friends. “That promise ring has a matching chastity belt.”

Jackson sang, “Both of which will be on the floor with the rest of her clothes when I’m done.”

Jaebeom brought his gaze back to you as you piled food on your plate and set it on your tray to move down the line. “What about you and the Ice Queen?”

Jackson fought a frown. He wanted to slug Jaebeom in the jaw every time he mentioned you. Playing cool, Jackson spoke nonchalantly, “We’re just having fun. The Ice Queen’s got that fire pussy.”

“I know she does,” Jaebeom growled, images of you naked filling his head. “So, you guys aren’t exclusive. She’s playing the field and I can round the bases.”

Jackson almost bit the tip off his plastic fork and snarled, “Dude, she hates your guts.”

Jaebeom licked his lips. “We both know hate sex is the best.”

Jackson felt his blood pressure rising. He wanted nothing more to beat the living shit out of Jaebeom, but he remembered the game you both were playing.

Sensing the conversation was over, and having gotten what he wanted out of it, Jaebeom moved to leave.

“Hey,” Jackson called.

“What?”

Jackson leveled his eyes on Jaebeom, stern and full of contempt. “You didn’t have to make her fall in love with you.”

“She was tough to crack. I had to go all the way,” said Jaebeom, as if it were of no consequence to him.

Jackson could practically hear sirens in his head and imagined himself being loaded in the back of a squad car in handcuffs with a satisfied grin on his face. “The two of you could make a go of it,” Jackson said, expression sour. “She could be the one to calm you down.”

“Pfft,” Jaebeom scoffed. “Me and her are you and Yeona, the before and after. We’re the same, you and I.”

That was the last straw. “We’re nothing alike,” Jackson snapped vehemently. “I’m just having fun. You’re trying to prove something. Matter of fact, you’re trying to spite a bitch that doesn’t even remember what your dick felt like.”

Jaebeom tensed with wrath and lowered his voice to something dangerous and threatening, “You’re lucky we’re inside or I would fuck you up.”

“The door’s right there,” Jackson hissed, though his muscles tensed in response.

The two stared each other down for a moment. You stood frozen in the aisleway, tray in hand, watching and waiting.

Then, Jaebeom scowled and rose from the seat.

You sighed in relief, knowing a brawl on the first day was not on your list of sights to see. Then, your heart clenched when you realized Jaebeom was striding toward you.

“Hey,” he called out.

With a groan, you whined, “Jaebeom, how many times do I have to tell you?”

“I wanna make peace.”

You deadpanned, “You wanna get back in my pants.”

Jaebeom slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I thought this summer we would pick up where we left off.”

You were tempted to take the tray in your hands and whack him over the head, but you would never disrespect and waste food like that. “You spent all last summer getting me into bed and you thought this summer I would just jump right back in. Do you really believe I think as little of myself as you think of me?”

Jaebeom shook his head. “Not at all.”

“You knew I had feelings for you. You convinced me that you felt the same way. You…”

Jaebeom interrupted with a soft, “Don’t.”

You could feel the conversation devolving. Emotions were pushing through. You whimpered, “We used to be friends, you know.”

Jackson watched it unfold, ready to jump in. The moment a tear escaped your lashes he would be ready to level Jaebeom into the fucking ground.

Jaebeom seemed to get frustrated. Maybe even losing his cool. “Will you just let me explain?”

You gaped. “There is no explanation for wounding someone that trusted you as much as I did.”

A voice suddenly appeared at your side, chiding, “Haven’t you done enough, Jaebeom?”

Jaebeom’s eyes widened slightly at the appearance of Yeona in your corner and he began, “Yeona, this…��

She looked at him with nothing but disdain. “Your motto is hit it and quit it, right? How about some follow through?”

You studied her in complete surprise, resisting a smile.

“You really…,” Jaebeom tried to argue.

“Begone, Satan,” she snapped, holding up a hand.

Jaebeom threw in the towel with ease. He had no desire to contend with Yeona in the middle of the dining hall. She was known for her volume.

You turned to her and said, “Thanks, Yeona. I guess I’ll never stop making a fool of myself, huh?”

She glared at Jaebeom’s back as he walked away and spoke with disgust, “He’s slime for what he did to you.”

You shrugged, feeling out of place. “I let him do it. What does that make me?”

She met your eyes, filled with compassion, and said, “I meant lying about being in love. I can’t imagine anything worse than that.”

You smarted, “Well, there’s climate change and world hunger and a Republican-controlled Congress…”

Yeona laughed and the sound was delightful. “You know what I mean.”

With the tray still in your hands, you elbowed her gently and whispered, “Thanks for sticking up for me.”

“Anytime,” she gleamed, elbowing you back. “You did the same for me once.”

The memory played across your mind and you replied softly, “Yeah, I did. Wow, I had almost forgotten.”

Yeona didn’t hesitate to loop her arm through yours and asked, “Wanna sit together?”

You nodded with a smile. “Sure, I would like that.”

Jackson watched you and Yeona striding together to the remainder of her clique. You were smiling like the two of you had been best friends for years. Jackson wrinkled his nose with another taste of bile on his tongue.

When you had finished most of your food, you leaned toward Yeona and whispered, “Listen, I’m really awkward about this, but Jackson is my friend and I want him to be happy.”

Her face lit up with curiosity. “What’s up?”

“He wants to watch the stars with you tonight.”

Yeona cocked a brow, skeptical. She and everyone on the east coast knew Jackson’s reputation as a playboy. “Really?”

“Yes,” you told her hurriedly. “I’m sorry if I visibly cringed. He’s my best friend. It’s hella weird to be doing this on his behalf.”

Yeona sized you up. Never in the years of camp did you approach a girl for Jackson. And that made Yeona feel special. It gave her a false inclination that Jackson was after something more.

“He’s a nice guy that Jackson,” she finally said.

You looked over at Jackson, simpering slightly to see him snarfing down more food. You were suddenly reminded of how he felt between your thighs and forced the thought from your mind.

“Yeah, a really nice guy,” you murmured.

Yeona nodded. “Tell him I’m down.”

When you relayed the news to Jackson back at his cabin, he beamed with delight.

“You’re a queen,” he announced. “You know that?”

“It’s been said by you many times,” you chuckled. “Just go. Have fun.”

Jackson gave you a parting kiss on the cheek as he always did and was halfway out the door when he called out, “Have a good swim.”

You had donned a bikini and a towel with the intent of visiting the pool. At night it was generally empty and you could swim a few laps in peace. You figured it would help you relax and clear your head.

Which was what you did.

As you swam back and forth, back and forth, your thoughts were a constant cycle of Jackson and Jaebeom. The sex with Jackson had been so mind-blowing and eye-opening that you couldn’t stop thinking about just how good it felt. Then, you circled back to Jaebeom and how badly your heart ached.

How much you still loved him.

He was all you wanted. You had spent the summer falling more and more in love with him. He had always been a friend that kept you at arm’s length. Jaebeom was mysterious and aloof, and you fell headfirst in the trap of him.

But you couldn’t stop being that naive little girl. Imagining a life with him. You pictured marrying him. You thought about the white picket fence around whatever house you got together. You wondered how many kids you would have.

It was sickening.

He made you want the life your mother had always planned on forcing upon you.

A large splash made you lurch up, surprised beyond measure when Jaebeom emerged from the water. He threw his head back, tossing the long hair out of his face, and he had never looked so damn intoxicating.

Your eyes met and your heart skipped a beat.

“I’m done playing games with you,” Jaebeom said, swimming nearer.

“Is that so?” you retorted, feigning indifference.

Jaebeom whispered, “Tell me you don’t want me.”

You stared him down, but you couldn’t bring yourself to lie. Of course, you wanted him. You wanted him with every fiber of your being.

At your silence, Jaebeom swam forward, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his lips to yours.

You cradled his head and kissed him back. You locked your legs around his waist, trying to trap him to you forever.

And you wracked your brain for what would make him stay.

Jaebeom kissed you harder and harder, roaming his hands up and down your sides as he bobbed in the pool. There was a slight catch in your breath with the rush of his kisses and Jaebeom could hear his pulse pounding in his ears.

You woke something in him. Jaebeom realized it the first day he spent without you. He needed it back. He needed that high, that rush.

Tugging at his hair, you broke away, breathing loudly. Jaebeom didn’t hesitate to latch his lips to your neck.

“I know what this is,” you panted, lashes fluttering.

“Tell me,” Jaebeom growled, lips smacking with wet kisses beneath your ear.

You gripped his hair tighter and draped an arm across his broad shoulders. “You’re mad I didn’t come crawling back to you,” you sighed, resisting a moan when you felt his tongue. “You wanted me to beg you to take me back so you could have the pleasure of saying no.”

Jaebeom kept sucking your neck and his voice was barely a whisper when he confessed, “I can’t get you out of my head.”

You wrestled out of his grasp and swam backwards, grabbing the edge of the pool and hoisting yourself up, but you kept your legs in the water, kicking them back and forth.

“If you’re gonna hurt me, then just leave me alone,” you sighed in defeat.

“I admit it,” Jaebeom said sharply. “You were the biggest challenge I ever had and I took it too far.”

There was no flicker of expression on your face. “Mm.”

Jaebeom approached you tentatively and said, “You got under my skin.”

“Imagine that,” you sneered. “I broke Lim Jaebeom.”

“I…,” Jaebeom hesitated, avoiding your eyes. “I know when it was all over and done with, I felt something for you. And I didn’t know what to do with feelings like that.”

That hurt you even more. He was more afraid of his feelings than breaking your heart.

“That’s sad,” you told him bitterly. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a human being. You know that, right?”

Jaebeom glanced up. Of course, he knew that, but he couldn’t stop. “Ouch,” he shot back.

You shivered in the cool night air, eyes falling from his piercing eyes to the wide expanse of his chest. Where you assumed a heart was beating in tandem with yours.

If there even was a heart in there at all.

“I gave you a part of myself and it meant nothing to you,” you continued, voice trembling. “You will never know what that feels like.”

Jaebeom was quick to counter, “I do know what it feels like.”

You rolled your eyes and snapped, “How could you possibly…”

Jaebeom looked away, frowning in contempt.

You tilted your head and muttered, “So the rumors are true? You do this to get back at a girl?”

Jaebeom shot you a glance and snapped, “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

You lowered back into the pool, dipping down until the surface was to your neck. “Me of all people,” you asserted. “Yes, you do.”

Jaebeom groaned.

You swam back into his grasp, smiling faintly when he eagerly wrapped his arms around you. Taking his face tenderly in your hands and losing yourself inside the endless black of his eyes, you purred, “If you tell me, I’ll kiss you again.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, like the thought pleased him. Like he wanted nothing more in this world to kiss you. But not at the expense of bearing his soul. “It would take a lot more than kissing to get that out of me.”

You chuckled, tangling a loose lock of his hair around your finger and combing it off of his forehead. You wanted to kiss him so bad you couldn’t stand it. Feeling his body against yours drove you into madness and desire.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you said, “Let me ask you something.”

“Sure,” he replied.

His eyes were fixated to your face. Every tiny flicker across your features had his attention. No one had ever looked at him the way you did. The blue hue of the pool made you look otherworldly. And the stars danced in your irises.

Your voice was tender when you asked, “How many hearts do you have to break before yours will heal?”

Jaebeom grit his teeth. He didn’t deserve your compassion. Gathering you in his arms a little tighter, he began gliding around the pool, seemingly dancing with you beneath the moonlight. “I don’t know yet,” he ultimately answered.

“I want to be the last,” you coaxed, resting your head on the bend of his shoulder. “Don’t do this anymore.”

Jaebeom leaned his head against yours and chided, “How can you still care about me after what I did to you?”

You blinked. Because I’m in love with you. Because I've never felt about anyone the way I do about you. Because when I’m with you, I’m whole again. You broke me - only you can fix me.

“I wonder if the boy I loved last summer was the real Jaebeom, and this one is just the face he shows the rest of the world,” you spoke in his ear, traveling the gentlest touches of your fingers up and down his back.

Jaebeom snorted, rebuffing that notion. You thought more highly of him than he did. “Don’t get your hopes up, baby.”

“Trust me. My hopes are dead and buried,” you replied dryly, pulling back to meet his eyes one last time.

Jaebeom sighed when your lips met. His arms tightened around your waist, sensing you were about to leave him and wanting to dissuade you. This just felt so right. Even he had to admit it.

But Jaebeom knew he was defined by destroying whatever he touched.

There was no future for you and him. No chance of commitment or intimacy. Not when the world had beaten the heart and soul out of him. Jaebeom didn’t know how to love and he dared never trust anyone but himself.

You broke the kiss, lashes fluttering as you felt the threat of tears. “Goodnight, Jaebeom,” you whispered.

Jaebeom kept his hands on your body until you had completely slipped from his hold and swam to the edge of the pool. He watched you grab your towel and leave, never looking back.

He wiped a hand down his face, blinking the water from his eyes. He wasn’t sure of much, but Jaebeom knew he had to have you.

Stepping into Jackson’s cabin, you were pleased to find him taking off his watch and rings.

He looked up and asked cheerfully, “Hey, how was the pool?”

You trudged toward him with purpose in your step and asked harshly, “Did you sleep with Yeona?”

Jackson laughed, not yet noticing the way you closed in on him like an apex predator, and said, “Nah, not even close. It’s gonna take time to…”

You pulled off your towel and collided into him, smashing your lips on his.

Jackson grunted and took your waist in his hands, mumbling something against your mouth.

Your lips parted with a loud smack and you cradled his face firmly when you said, “Fuck me until I can’t think. Until I forget everything.”

Jackson’s pupils dilated and he knew exactly what you needed - and what had happened. He dipped down, hooking his arms beneath your thighs and hoisting you up.

You grinned at getting what you wanted, your racing pulse migrating down to between your thighs.

Jackson dropped you on his bed and hovered over you, rising long enough to pull the shirt over his head and across the room.

“So, you saw Jaebeom at the pool, huh?”

You grimaced. Nothing escaped your best friend. “Yeah.”

Jackson lifted on his knees, proceeding to unbuckle his belt. “He’s back in the game, you know,” he told you warily.

You lay there with hands at opposite sides of your head, pliant and waiting. “I know,” you admitted, more so to yourself.

Jackson pushed his pants down. “What do you need me to do?”

You covered your face, on the verge of frustration, and cried, “He makes me so fucking crazy.”

Something in Jackson’s chest clenched and he reached forward to take your hand, refusing to let you hide behind it. He kissed your fingers sweetly and made himself comfortable on top of you. “I’ll make you forget him, baby.”

“For a little while,” you sighed.

Those words weren’t lost on Jackson, but he couldn’t think past his desire to indulge in your body again. Your need made him so hard.

Lifting your leg high on his waist, Jackson whispered, “Only think of me.”

Your eyes rolled back and you hummed softly when Jackson began to kiss your neck. You knew then what a dangerous game this was you were playing, but as you felt Jackson’s weight on you, Jaebeom was slipping from your mind.

“Only you, baby,” you crooned in his ear.

And it was true. When you were with Jackson, all you knew was the passion you made together. To be with someone you trusted - mind, body and soul was all-consuming.

You were left to wonder how something could feel so right when it was being done for all the wrong reasons.

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[kickingitwithkirk]

Greetings From Austin

Pairing: Alpha!Jensen Ackles x Alpha!Jared Padalecki x Omega!OFC

Summary: Jensen and Jared are at odds over a monumental decision that changes their lives in a way they couldn’t have envisioned.

Word Count: 2616

Warnings: a/b/o, homophobia, bisexuality, biphobia, angst, cursing, self doubt, depression/anxiety, medical stuff, sexual dysfunction, infertility

*additional warnings to be added in future parts.

A/N: Here we go again with one my weird as hell dreams, series Inspired by this art.

A/N II: There is no intentional hate or malevolence intended towards any of the Ackles or Padalecki families. This is a purely fictional piece containing real and created persons/names/events set in the fictional A/B/O verse. Some dates/events altered to fit story.

*no beta-all mistakes are mine

*divider by @writeyourmindaway​​​​​​​

*images found online

Prologue

Austin, TX

Mid July

“Babe,” Jensen softly says in a low voice to the person seated next to him in the waiting room, “Babe,” he says a bit louder, still getting no response. Leaning close, he blows into their ear.

Jared starts, his “what” muffled by the finger he’s been chewing on.

“You know you can’t do that, don’t want you getting sick.” Taking his hand Jensen pulls it away from his pretty pink lips, gently caressing the finger. Jared had finally stopped chewing on his hands when Covid-19 became widespread.

“Where’s your gum?” Jared bite his lip not answering.

Sighing, Jensen shifts retrieving his pack and hands a piece to him. “What’s got you masticating again?” He inquires as Jared pops the stick in his mouth.

Jared chews the gum nervously weighing how to answer the question knowing Jensen won’t accept anything less than the whole truth. “What if something goes wrong again because of me.”

Jensen’s brow furrowed. He learned years ago that while their relationship is one of equals, he had to be lead Alpha when Jared’s mental state overwhelmed him as it had the last few weeks.

***

After the public announcement in March 2019 that season fifteen would be Supernaturals last, they had agreed when finished with the pickups they would take an extended break, return to Austin and concentrate on their marriage.

Jared intended to stop acting indefinitely, pursuing other interests and Jensen wanted to concentrate on his music.

Of course, things didn’t quite end up how they planned.

Jared entered negotiations to star in the Walker, Texas Ranger reboot, along with being an executive producer. Jensen got a call from Kripke wanting him for the role of Soldier Boy in The Boys third season.

But by March of 2020, everything came to a halt thanks to the Corona-virus.

The shutdowns left Supernaturals final two episodes with no definitive filming date and their seemingly never ending last season put their other projects on hold.

For the first time in years they had the luxury of a leisurely schedule, not having to be somewhere on a timetable, they could communicate with friends and family uninterrupted, deal with their other businesses, charities, etc, leaving most days free to enjoy being together without constraint.

But even amazing, awesome, vigorous sex on every horizontal/vertical surface that could support the two big Alphas only filled so many hours and like many couples, they started getting each others nerves and looked for other ways to stay occupied.

By late May, Jared was unable to sleep or eat, even going out of the house became a chore. When he hit a consecutive fourth day in bed, Jensen bodily dragged him into the bath for a desperately needed shower and loaded him in his truck driving to his doctor's.

Upon checking in they were told patients only allowed in the facility. Jared started panicking, saying he was having chest pains and couldn’t breath. He was rushed in with Jensen hot on their heels after morphing into an overprotective Alpha mate no one was stopping.

Jared’s doctor deduced with the lock-downs prohibiting him from his routine checkups and periodic adjustments needed to his medications triggered this episode.

The first step was to wean him off his current prescriptions and change to a newly approved, alternative regime. He was checked in a facility for ten days under observation while detoxing off his meds.

His therapist switched his twice weekly tele-counseling sessions to daily for the foreseeable future and Kodas certification as an emotional support animal was approved. His progress was slow but he was returning back to his sweet natured, big hearted, exceptionally tactical, overgrown puppy self.

When the surprise call from the clinic came a few days ago about an appointment opening, Jensen initially didn’t want it, still in his overly excessive protective Alpha mode. Jared’s outburst made him relent, fearing they were on a collision course for a major setback if he didn’t.

And Jensen, being Jensen, went overboard to ensure the appointment was absolutely private.

Part I

Jared was about to speak when a woman in scrubs called out, “Mr. Bonham and Mr. Page.” they got up crossing over to her, “Hello, I’m Sissy, Dr. Rodgers nurse, please follow me.”

They pass through the doorway leading through a maze of halls like that of any other medical clinic except this one specialized in a very specific service.

The nurse opens a door near the back of the clinic gesturing for them to enter the spacious office, “Please have a seat, the doctor will be with you shortly.” She closed the door and they sat down in the pair of chairs directly in front of the large, dark mahogany desk.

Jensen, scenting Jared’s nervousness, lifts his right hand kissing his palm, making him chuckle at the tickle of Jen’s soft beard before twining their fingers together and setting them on his left thigh, smiling reassuringly.

There was a brief knock before the door opened and an older, silver haired Beta entered. “Hello, I’m Dr. Rodgers, how are we doing today?” He asks, moving to his chair behind the desk.

Jared gave him a tight smile and Jensen remained placid.

The doctor raises an eyebrow, “Relax Mr. Page, this is just a visit to go over the paperwork before deciding about how we proceed, not the Spanish Inquisition.” Jared releases his held breath but couldn’t completely calm himself.

“I know the process can be overwhelming but I must ask, is there something we’ve done to make you uncomfortable?” Dr. Rodgers inquires.

“No, everyone’s been really nice, very professional. It’s just we..we had issues the first time we attempted to do this.” Jared finished his sentence quietly, in the recess of his mind; something bad is gonna happen and it’ll be my fault.

Jensen squeezes his hand tighter, instinctively sensing Jared’s mind was trying to spiral again, “When tried this before someone leaked our plans to the media. It wasn't ever proven the clinic was involved but...”

“We do everything possible to keep our clients anonymity protected here. All of our staff have been thoroughly vetted and sign NDA, given your professions, you're familiar with how they work. Your real identities will remain completely confidential, even if you choose to not proceed. It is why you chose this particular clinic, yes?”

“Yes, it is.” Jensen replied.

“How about we get this bit of paperwork out of the way, then we can have a more relaxed visit. I’ve gone over the applications you both submitted and have noted a few discrepancies in the medical section that need clarification before we proceed,” He opens the top file, “Mr. Bonham, why did you omit Genu Varum from your medical history?”

Jensen kept his expression neutral as he felt his stomach automatically clench. He had been mercilessly teased throughout his childhood about his bowed legs by his older brother Josh and later his buddies from school when they’d come over to hang out. By the time he was in high school Jensen’s extraordinary looks and personality were what got people’s attention first. Nowadays, many a fanfic waxed poetic about those bowed legs.

“The questionnaire inquired about inherited genetic medical conditions and since mine isn’t, I didn’t think it was necessarily applicable.” Jared hears an edge creeping into Jensen’s voice and gives their tangled fingers a quick squeeze.

“Did you see an orthopedist and were they able to determine what caused the condition? Did they suggest any surgical procedures or therapies to straighten your legs?”

“I was born a preemie, the orthopedists my parents consulted decided my condition was attributable to that.” Jensen replies tersely, dropping his vocal range. Jared gripped his hand harder, telling him to cool the attitude. “The doctor didn’t recommend surgery but sent me to physical therapy, thought it would help them straighten as I grew.”

“So no others in your immediate family have this issue?”

“Everyone my family has straight legs, including my three children.”

Jared piped in, “He hates it but he does have an exercise regimen; stretching, strength training. Oh, he also takes several different vitamins, omega oils, turmeric and extra vitamin D to support his joints.” They watched the doctor scribble a few more notes in the file before closing it.

“Mr. Page,” Jared sits up straighter in his chair, “I appreciate that you went into detail about your mental health status. I see you’ve recently been hospitalized, your medications have been changed to an alternative regiment and you’ve also increased your therapy sessions?”

Jared’s interview continued for another twenty minutes as Dr. Rodgers questioned him in depth about his depression and anxiety, feeling said anxiety ratcheting up so he focused on Jensen’s thumb rhythmically moving over his hand and used every ounce of his acting skills to appear confident and in control.

Dr. Rodgers closed his file, “I only have a few general questions left then we can discuss how you wish to proceed.”

After a more relaxed, genial conversation with the doctor, Sissy took them to a couple private rooms with paraphernalia to help stimulate them into producing a couple semen samples.

Jensen was getting close to finishing with his favorite spank-bank fantasy when he felt Jared’s frustration across their bond.

~~~

Jared couldn’t get aroused.

He felt as useless as his flaccid cock.

His doctor warned him that loss of sex drive could be a possible side effect of his new regiment until his body adjusted to it. He had struggled with temporary impotence a few times on his old meds, always fearful Jensen would finally see him as undesirable, no longer a satisfactory mate.

Rationally, he knew it was his illness causing these exceptionally hard to deal thoughts recently and the nagging idea this wasn’t the right thing for them to attempt again continually kept creeping in.

Jensen’s unspoken reluctance about having more children at his age was also weighing on his conscience, warring against his own biological longings.

They had a humongous argument when he told Jensen about taking the appointment. Jen thought this was the wrong time to attempt it again, pointing out he was just getting his equilibrium back setting Jared went off on a rant about how he no longer wanted him and would leave him like Genevieve had because he was too broken to deal with anymore.

Unmitigated anguish was written across Jensen’s beautiful features, the very notion that Jared could conceivably believe that he’d ever abandon him made his soul hurt in such a way no verbal language on earth could ever express his devastated feelings traveling across their bond.

***

Everything they’d been through; from that bar fight solidifying their friendship, Jared’s first breakdown, the years of living as roommates while secretly a couple to finding wives who understood their unique relationship and still married them both in 2010.

The joyous arrival of JJ three years later that unfortunately exacerbated Genevieve's frustration of not being able to conceive coming out with a vengeance at Jared. His unexpected breakdown in Switzerland was the final nail in their marriage. Gen was there for him but in the end it was all too much and she filed for divorce.

Shortly after, Jared’s iCloud account was hacked. It was believed, but never conclusively proven, that Gen was behind it since her lawyer was trying to break their prenuptial agreement, the videos documenting his private and explicit sexual relationship with Jensen were legally considered adulterous. In the end, the court upheld the legal document but the ramifications...

They were summoned to L.A. for the meeting from hell with WB executives, both convinced it was the end of Supernatural and their careers.

After the reaming out, they each received a weeks pay suspension to cover some of what it was gonna cost PR in time and money to deal with the inevitable repercussions and placate the show's sponsors.

How would the show’s fans react? Would they still be able to accept them as brothers only on TV while in real life they were involved in a highly stigmatized relationship?

When they returned to work there was an atmosphere of tension that hadn’t existed before. It was an open secret that all shows had their share of bitchiness and backstabbing behind the scenes. Jensen may have the thicker skin, keeping tighter control on his emotions, but Jared knew it hurt him just as deeply the loss of some of their friends because of prejudicial, social beliefs that two Alpha males shouldn’t be involved.

Jensen’s parents showed up unexpectedly in Vancouver a few weeks later. What started out as a not quite comfortable visit quickly deteriorated with his religiously conservative parents. They had not raised him like this and blamed Jared, saying he had corrupted him, leading him into a sinful lifestyle. He needed to repent and return to his wife to whom he had made a commitment before god.

Jensen blew up, replying it was none of their business, it was between them and oh, yeah, Danneel knew about them before marrying him and they better not say anything to her. Without another word his parents left. When he later called them to make amends, his mother coolly stated that he was no longer part of their family and to never contact them again.

Three months after the twins were born in 2016 came the finalization of Jensen’s divorce from Danneel, painful but congenial. They easily agreed on joint custody and still spent most holidays together. Jensen gave Dani financial security in their settlement, he wanted to make sure she didn’t have to worry about working again unless she wanted to.

All these years later, Jared continually has nagging thoughts that they had let everybody down. They received support when they publicly came out as bisexual then lost some of it when they married, being mocked for not coming out as gay.

***

There was another knock at the door and Jared ignored it, it was that nurse checking on his lack of progress again. The knock turned into pounding, “Jared, open this door now dammit!” He flinched realizing Jensen knew what was going on with him. Releasing the privacy latch and opening the door a crack he saw concerned green eyes only.

“Sorry, I thought you were that nurse,” he stepped away and sat back down as Jensen came in and re-latching it behind him. “She came to get me when you stopped answering,” Jensen said, walking over to him and started running his thick fingers through his husband’s long hair, “what’s going on babe?”

He glances up knowing that Jensen already knew, “It’s okay Jay, take as long as you need.” He paused at the unpleasant scent wafting around him. “If you’d be more comfortable we could do this at home…” Jared shakes his head, “There’s the risk of damage, contamination and or not able to get it back in time that could make the semen unusable.” Jared quotes from a website.

Jensen softly chuckled, “Nerd.”

Jared notices the bulge in his jeans, “You didn’t...”

“Drain the snake..choke the chicken..spank the monkey.”

“Fuck, okay, you didn’t! Stop using old man slang.” He shook his head smiling  at Jensen intentionally goading him.

Jared reached up for the hand playing in his hair, grasping it to draw Jensen down next to him.

“Jack, I don’t want to wait any longer on doing this. I love JJ and the twins, you know I do, but they'll always be yours and Danneels. I know the timing could be better... but I'm almost thirty-eight and I want my..our own pups running around the house driving us crazy.”

“For the next eighteen years?”

“Minimum.”

tbc

Part II

SPN: @donnaintx​​​​​​​​​​​​ @lyarr24

GFA: @babypink224221 @waywardjoy @let-me-luve-you @all-4-wincest

Sam/Jared @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @flamencodiva

[ilguna]

Metanoia - Chapter Sixteen (f.o)

Summary: you will be crowned victor of the 75th hunger games.

Word Count; 8.8k

Warnings; swearing, mention of murder

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

“You’re still sure you want to do this?” Finnick asks, you give him a look.

“If you don’t want to come, you don’t have to. Feel free to join Katniss’ star squad.” you snort at the name of it, “Boggs already made us the offer and said we can change our minds at any time up until we leave.”

“I remember.” Finnick says, he grips his shiny, new trident in his hand tightly, before deciding that he might as well strap it to his body so he’s not carrying it around everywhere, “I just thought you might want to back out is all.”

You roll your eyes, “The day I back out of anything, is the day I’m a coward.”

“I’m Commander Paylor of District Eight.” Paylor begins, Finnick’s head immediately snaps up to see her, you practically already have Paylor’s speech memorized, “I’m a soldier like all of you so, here’s what I know. For the first time in our lifetimes, we’re standing together with thirteen districts. From what I see here, we’ve already made history.”

The clapping starts first, the cheering is a second behind. There’s a shitload of people here. No only in the streets, but on the rooftops too. Volunteers from every district have been flown in, leading up to this moment. What you did yesterday, really opened up a ton of opportunities.

“But history doesn’t stop to celebrate, and we’re facing an enemy that will not change and will never surrender. President Snow has pulled back peacekeepers to fortify the center of the city. He’s evacuating residents from outer blocks, these civilians will be confused and desperate. You are under orders not to target them.”

Paylor motions to the crowd, “We’re deploying medical brigades to help anyone in need. We’ll show the Capitol people who we are.” she motions to the live screen behind her of a map, “To slow our advance, President Snow is building a minefield of traps and lethal devices called ‘pods’. The sadistic inventions of gamemakers meant to make sport of our deaths.

“If our armies make it past peacekeepers and other defenses, we’ll converge in the center of the city at Snow’s mansion, where we won’t just unlock his gates, but unshackle all of Panem.” The crowd cheers again, “If we die, let it be for a cause and not a spectacle. If we succeed, let it be for all of panem, and let it be forever.

“Yes, you’ve already made history. But the future--our future--starts tomorrow at dawn, when we march together into the Capitol.”

The cheering resumes, and you give a quick glance to Katniss and Gale, curious to see how they’re taking all of this. Gale came into District Two a little after you had left--he was on a hovercraft full of volunteers--and Katniss came over this morning as a stowaway on another volunteer hovercraft.

She’s been insisting to help this entire time, not wanting to sit back. However, she’s going to be in for a nasty surprise when she realizes that she’s the top priority. Her squad is going to do anything to keep her safe--which is exactly why you’ve decided not to join the star squad. 

You’ve already had the misfortune of being in on protecting her once, and that was enough for you. You might not have known every single detail, but the intentions were pretty clear. You’re just surprised that it took so long for Katniss to realize that she was the priority.

Also, the problem with the star squad is that they’re not front lines. Katniss can’t be killed, otherwise the revolution dies or whatever. So, Boggs told you that they’re going to give the volunteers a head start, and then they’ll follow behind. No matter what happens, the squad will still have to be careful of pods and whatnot, but most of them will be taken out by the volunteers by the time the squad leaves the base.

In other words--they’re not going to get any action. Katniss is still going to be filmed, but it’s practically useless in your mind. Her setting off pods or standing patriotically in front of things isn’t going to do much. She’s not leading anyone, she’s following behind people.

Which is a whole other reason why you’re up front: you’re not a follower, you’re a leader.

As Paylor gets back to her speech, giving more information, you grab a hold of Finnick’s arm, and start to pull him out of the crowd. Trying to navigate through is hard at first, until the volunteers see the look on your face, or recognize who you are. After that, a path just wide enough for you and Finnick to fit through, forms.

“Where are we going?”

“Anywhere but here, we were already briefed.” you say, and the second you’re out of the crowd, you let Finnick go.

Bouncing on your toes, you twirl around a bit, “Tomorrow, huh? Too bad it can’t be today.”

“We’ll probably be introduced to our squad at least.” Finnick says, “You know where to go?”

“What kind of moronic question is that?” you ask, heading to the building that Lyme said would be the meet up spot for you guys, “Of course I know.”

Lyme and Boggs had approached both you and Finnick. Either you could join Katniss’ star squad, protect her, befriend her, trust her--whatever. You guys would have a chance of being on television, and maybe even share some glory of ‘being brave and marching to the Capitol’. In your opinion, it looks like Coin just wants to put two of her best faces together to make you look like a team.

Especially after what you said to the people inside of the tunnel, you basically discredited Katniss in the worst way possible. By saying that she can’t relate to them, because she doesn’t get it. You said what you said, you weren’t lying to their faces. If Coin wants to think that, then she can because she’s psychotic anyway.

Anyway, Lyme said that you could go to the front lines. Like you said, Coin doesn’t control you, because you aren’t the one leading the masses--Katniss is. If you want to go ahead and clear out streets for the medical brigades, then you can go nuts with it. You’ll get your own personalized squad that Lyme thinks will get along with you, and then you’re free to go tomorrow.

You’ll have your own pod-tracker, a map to follow, food and water, weapons, etc. But this just means that you’re going to be in danger with every step you take. The pod-tracker, which is actually called the Holo, will be as updated as can be, tomorrow. However, if any new pods appear, you won’t really know until it’s too late.

You received all of this news pretty well. You’re used to being in places you’re not welcome at. You’re pretty agile, you can fight well, you’re not too bad when it comes to leading a group. And if you get killed on the way, what a noble way to go out.

As for Finnick, you could just tell that this isn’t what he thought it was going to be. You don’t know what he expected exactly, but it wasn’t a whole ton of danger all wrapped up in one big city. Seeing the Capitol as dangerous is a comedy. To you two, it’s been sparkle and shimmer for as long as you can remember.

Combining the pretty idea of it, and the idea that the gamemakers have not held back with what will go on with traps--isn’t a fun thought. Especially not for you, since you’re the one who’s seen it as glamour the entire time. Finnick… you’re not too sure. He definitely doesn’t have good memories either, but he also got his shitload of secrets from there, so you’re not entirely sure.

You know that he’s pro-rebellion though. That’s obvious by now.

Back to what you were saying, Boggs and Lyme both offered sides to it. Follow Katniss around and not be in direct danger all the time, or have your own squad and be face-to-face with danger. She liked to describe it as ‘death breathing down your neck’.

You already promised a lot of people that you wouldn’t be taking the cowards way out. And like you’ve said already; you don’t want to be in the star squad. 

While the entire interaction was happening, it was obvious that Finnick was hoping you would change your mind. Like everything that you’ve done up until now has been one entire joke. 

He’ll realize just how real it’ll all be as soon as tomorrow comes. When the deal with Boggs no longer stands and you have to go with Lyme no matter what.

Actually, you wouldn’t have to go with her. You would be able to just stay in District Two, while all the volunteers do your dirty work. 

“Remember any of the names that she told us?” You ask Finnick, looking at him.

He’s got his thumbs looped into the straps of the bulletproof vest he’s wearing. He thinks for a moment, and then makes a face, “Not really.”

You shrug, “Not a problem, I’ve got a way around seeming rude.”

Finnick laughs, “You care about that?”

“They’re going to be the ones saving our necks, so yeah.” You say, cracking your knuckles, “They’re not a bunch of victors that I can mouth off to. They’re regular people, they won’t understand and will end up taking it personally.”

“Critical thinking.” Finnick mocks.

If you didn’t have all this armor on, you’d spin around and kick his ass. Even then, he might be able to win. When you two were putting the outfits on, he looked like none of the weight fazed him. As for you, your knees nearly buckled.

On top of the armor are the backpacks, and then your fancy weapons, and a hundred other things inside of the backpacks. It makes it all so heavy, and your shoulders had begun to ache after a while.

The only reason why you’re still wearing it—because in no way was it required to be worn—is because you want to get used to the feeling of it all. It’s why you continue to move around quickly, bounce on your toes, spin in circles and all of that. You’re trying to fix your balance.

If Finnick had tried to push you over when you first put all this weight on, you would have stumbled and fell. Now, you’ve begun to get a hang of it all, it’s not nearly as bad as you thought it was.

You two make it to the abandoned building. The upper floor is caved in, the windows are gone and if the ground shakes, concrete debris will come through the cracks. Definitely not a safe place to be at, but the entire district is fucked up like this. It’s not really a huge surprise.

The inside of the building is relatively empty, except for some furniture. Finnick waits by the door while you head inside, stealing two chairs--one in each arm--as you leave the house. If the place collapses, you’d rather be on the outside, not the entire.

Finnick takes his chair from you, and the two of you set up camp outside. You have to shed the backpack before you sit. Then, you unbuckle the bulletproof vest and drop it onto the dirt next to you, leaning back in the chair.

“Have you ever actually gone to war before?” Finnick asks.

“There’s always a first time for everything.” you give him a pretty smile, “Don’t be so negative about it, you’re going to imagine bad things and then get us killed.”

Finnick pauses for a moment, letting what you said sit, and then he moves on, “Are you doing okay?”

You watch his face, looking for mockery. It takes a moment of you squinting and watching the corner of his lips for you to decide. He’s being sincere about it, he actually cares.

You relax, “I’m still mourning, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Finnick is just as relieved as you are, “Are you throwing yourself into this because of her?”

“I’m doing this because I promised those people that I would.”

“You keep saying that, but you don’t owe them anything--” Finnick tries.

You squint at him again, but this time it’s a very clear glare. Finnick shifts uncomfortably in his chair, and you resist to kick out the weakest leg that’s barely holding his weight.

“They are my people.” you lean forward, “I might not know their names, but they’re District Two. They are the people that I grew up with. They look up to us, they depend on us victors. Of course I owe them, and you do too.”

Finnick doesn’t bother with saying anything else, and it’s probably for the best. It’s only a few minutes later when you see people approaching. After that, you sit up in your chair, uncrossing your legs as you lean on your knees with your elbows.

“You must be (Y/n) and Finnick.” a girl with blonde, curled hair says, “I’m Hydri.” 

You get to your feet, holding out your hand, “Nice to meet you.

“This is Taurus,” she motions to a tall man with black hair. There’s tattoos snaking up his neck, and they’re peeking out from beneath his sleeves, “And Alioth.”

Alioth is around average height. He gives a small smile and raises his hand as a greeting. His hair is blonde too, and it’s a style that was most definitely taken out of the Capitol’s stylists books. The sides are shaved but they have intricate designs in them.

“Let me guess, you two are from District Two?” you ask, shaking Taurus’ hand, and then Alioths.

“Not me.” Hydri smiles kindly, “Taurus is from District One, though. He was nearly in the games once.”

“It’s a good thing I wasn’t, you would have wiped the floor with my body.” Taurus says, his voice is pretty deep. 

“No shit.” you laugh, “I always heard about the runner-up from District One, but I never got to see who you were.”

Taurus cracks a smile.

Finnick moves around you to greet them just the same as you did. Then, the conversation shifts to what you’re all really here for--what happens tomorrow.

The entire thing is very friendly, you all go over what you’ll be having inside the backpacks, and the difference between them. Just so that if one of you get hurt or killed, the others will know if the backpack is worth taking or not. While you’re talking, you learn that Alioth will be carrying mostly medical stuff. He’s got food and ammo for himself, but when he opens his backpack and shows it to you guys, you can see exactly what he means.

To have him get killed would be bad. You all have basic medical training, from the games or otherwise. But Alioth’s been studying it for years now since he got out of high school. He originally wanted to sign up for the medical brigade that will be sent out of District Two, but Paylor thought it would be better for him to come with you guys.

Taurus has got the basic prep-games training that you guys get in the academies, so he’ll be a pretty good fighter. Another person you guys wouldn’t want to lose, and yet he tells you all that he doesn’t care if you lean on him. It’s what he’s here for.

As for Hydri, she’s purely for organization. She’s been studying the maps for the last few days, so she’ll be able to keep you from getting lost and from getting off-track. You’ll be able to meet up around Snow’s mansion in the center city. They’ve already marked a building that’s not really used, so it’s the perfect place to go.

After a while, the conversation starts to get a bit dull, and it’s also around the same time that the sun has set. So, you tell them all that you and Finnick are going to grab dinner and head to where you’re staying for the night. Tomorrow, you five will be meeting up in a separate designated spot to receive the Holo, and then hop on a truck to be brought to the city.

Then, you’ll be fighting for your life. Again.

--

You turn the Holo over in your hand, looking at it carefully.

“Don’t break it, we could barely even spare you this one.” the lady tells you.

You look at her, raising your head to be level with her face. Finnick--sensing a showdown--steps in, “Thank you.”

He tries to drag you away, but you keep your stance for a moment, “Lyme personally requested it for me, so you aren’t sparing jack shit. Go fuck yourself.” without missing a beat, you take the Holo from her fingers, mock a smile and say, “I mean, have a nice day.”

You and Finnick leave the table after that, heading over to your group. They’re pulling on the last of their outfits, readjusting straps and buckling up. Taurus is messing around with Alioth slightly while Hydri watches.

They act like they’ve known each other forever, despite the fact that you’re all from varying districts. Taurus is from one, while you and Alioth are from two. Finnick is from four, and Hydri is from District Six. So far, you seem to like them. But they’re obviously a little apprehensive when it comes to you.

You don’t take it personally anymore.

“Got the Holo?” Hydri asks.

You lift it up for her to see, “We’re all good to go.”

“It’s already set up?” Taurus asks.

“Bitch at the booth taught me.”

Taurus snorts, “Let’s go then.”

Hydri leads the way, with Alioth right by her. Taurus hands back with you and Finnick during the walk. For them, it’s not quiet, but for you, it is.

At first, you’re looking at the groups of people getting ready to go to the trucks. And then your eyes wander a little further to where the tents are on the base. From where you are right now, you have a perfect line of sight to where Boggs is standing, talking to some woman, around them stands a few other people.

“How many people do you think have going with Katniss?” you ask.

“Remember when I ran off this morning?” Finnick asks, you nod but don’t look at him, “Went to talk to Boggs. Katniss has got her camera crew from District Thirteen with her, Gale, and the other five.”

“Huh.” you shift your gaze to the trucks, watching some of them take off. Then, it clicks in your head. Five, Katniss, Gale, and the four from the camera crew, “eleven people?”

“Yup. That’ll be a nightmare.” Finnick mutters, “Katniss is probably planning her escape at this exact moment.”

“And it would have been thirteen if we went with them.” you whistle, “There’s no safety in numbers. They’re all going to end up dead.”

Taurus turns his head a little in your direction, you can see the scowl on his face. Yet, he doesn’t ask any questions and just lets what you said slide. He doesn’t look like the confrontational type, but when he does, it’s when he’s pushed the edge. He just has that air about him.

“You really think that?” Finnick asks.

You look at him, “Thirteen people, all with different ambitions and minds of their own. All it would take is for one person to mess up, and the rest are dead. Especially since we’re walking into a minefield.”

Shaking your head, you turn the Holo in your hand, “Katniss will be lucky if she makes it past the first round of pods.”

“You hate her that much, huh?” Taurus finally pitches in, but he doesn’t look at you.

“I don’t hate her, and I don’t loathe her either. She should’ve stayed in District Thirteen, but it’s too late for that now.” you glance behind you to where Boggs is, one final time before they’re finally out of sight.

Boggs seems to be staring at you too, and when he realizes you’re looking back, he raises his hand. You stutter to do the same--mostly because you’re surprised at the action--but you do it, nonetheless. After, a building blocks the view, and you’re forced to go back to focusing on the trucks.

Hydri leads you right to an armoured truck. She knocks on the door once or twice, and then steps back as she waits for them to swing open. It takes a moment, but they do. On the inside, there’s already a couple of people sitting inside on the right. The guy who answered, takes a seat to the right again.

Hydri moves aside, a bright smile on her face as she motions for you guys to go inside. Alioth doesn’t hesitate, with one hand grabbing the bar to the left, and him taking one big step to get himself up. Then, he moves right on back. When Taurus gets up there, he doesn’t struggle with the step as much as Alioth had.

Finnick goes in before you, but he doesn’t sit down right away, instead offering his hand. You grab the bar with your left hand, and his hand with your right. Working together, he pulls you into the truck with no problem. Then, he offers the same courtesy to Hydri, but makes sure she doesn’t get the seat right next to you.

“Thanks.” you mutter, closing your eyes as you lean your head back.

“Anytime.”

Alioth must’ve leaned forward to talk to the driver through the window or something, because the truck gets moving after that. The ride is relatively bumpy at the start, since the trucks had been parked in gravel, but it smoothes out once you’re on the cement.

“Are we getting dropped off in the same spot?” Hydri asks.

“No, we’re earlier than you guys are. Trying to spread out and all.”

“That’s what I thought. At least Paylor knows what she’s doing.” Hydri sighs.

“Did you hear about Lyme?” Taurus asks.

“She’s fine.” Hydri says, “(Y/n) saw her this morning, it was just a scratch. Lyme will be back on her feet, and she might even join us in the center circle.”

“If we make it that far.”

Taurus sighs too, and the conversation between the two groups ends right there.

A while later, there’s some rustling around, making you open your eyes to see what’s going on exactly. The group across from you is getting their backpacks and weapons ready.

They’re talking amongst themselves, mostly about where the nearest pod is going to be the moment they stop off. It’s too bad that they won’t be able to locate where exactly, all they know is that it exists somewhere.

The truck comes to a slow stop, Hydri helps the other girl open the door, and she holds it open so it’s easier for the second group to leave. The other girl says a thank you, and then the doors are shut again.

Taurus and Hydri move to the other bench to make it more comfortable between you five. And Hydri just opens her mouth to say something, when there’s an explosion. For a moment, you think it’s okay, until the truck teeters, and then tips. Unfortunately, it’s in yours, Finnick’s and Alioth’s direction.

There’s not much you can do.

Butterflies swarm in your stomach. A scream rises to your throat. You reach out to grab something--anything.

Your fingers just barely latch onto the edge of the bench, but you hang onto it.

Your back slams against the truck painfully, but your head is cushioned. While you’re staring at what used to be the wall, which is now the ceiling, something slams into the metal next to you.

You look over to your right, trying to see who it is. Finnick is in your way though, and he’s already getting to his elbows, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” you tell him, sitting up and scooting back. Finnick had cushioned your head with his arm--you’re not sure if that was on purpose or if he was flailing just like you were.

Hydri is on her hands and knees next to Finnick, it just means she went flying towards you guys. At least she’s breathing and awake. Taurus is in the dip of the floor, sitting because he can’t stand. And with a look to Alioth, he gives a thumbs up to you.

“Get the doors open.” you tell Taurus, unbuckling the backpack from your body, and then you lean down and grab the Holo.

You turn it on, squinting at it through blurry vision. You blink a couple of times, watching as the device comes to life, and the orange dots take over the blue landscape. The nearest pod is about a hundred feet away--so they couldn’t have set off that one.

The doors slam open, and Taurus reaches for your backpack. He carefully drops it on the outside, eyes glued to the flames that are engulfing a building.

“New pod.” You say, “They ran into one of the new ones.”

You get up with the help of Taurus, not waiting for anyone else. After you slide out, you land on your feet harshly. Another look to the Holo shows an orange dot where the fire is.

“Figures.” you say, picking up the backpack and slinging it over your shoulder.

“(Y/n)--stop!” Finnick’s voice is hard, “What if there’s another?”

You turn around for a moment, “Did you not see what just happened? What if--”

There’s a blast of heat, and then the sound follows. You make a face, but don’t cover your ears as you look to where you were heading. 

A second pod has been set off, and one of the people that were inside of the truck, now struggles to put the fire out. They flail, dancing around like they don’t know what they’re doing. Then, they shed the backpack, and the jacket--which are both charcoal black now--until they eventually sink to their knees, since the flamethrower is still targeting them, following their every move.

You open your mouth as if words will form, but all you feel is your hot breath on your lips as you breathe out.

“Are there any survivors?” Alioth asks, rocks crunching beneath his feet.

“They’re all dead.” Taurus says, “We should check on the drivers--”

“Alive!” Hydri calls, which makes you all turn, “But the driver’s got a head wound from the airbag.

Alioth doesn’t care, he goes ahead and checks them out anyway. You go from staring at the fire to looking at the path you took to get here. It would be a long walk back, and even then there’s no guarantee that Boggs will take you back. Or if you’ll make it in time.

“What are you thinking?” Finnick asks.

You reach up with your right hand, grabbing the left backpack strap as you tilt your head for a moment, “That we better be careful where we step from now on.”

--

Those two explosions that the second group had set off, might have been the first to happen, but they weren’t the last. It was just the beginning of the chain, that probably won’t end until the last volunteer travels through the Capitol.

The gamemakers were smart with their placement--you just have to admit it. They chose the very outskirts of the city, knowing full well that there would be a ton of volunteers that wouldn’t suspect a goddamn thing. You all were expecting the pods to be further into the city, not lining the outering of it.

It’s clear why they did it though, when those first pods went off, it was an indicator that you guys were now coming into the city. It was a way for all those peacekeepers to gear up and find a place to hide until a group of volunteers came through the streets. It would also let Snow know that he should probably be pulling back his citizens a little more forcefully, now.

And not only all of that, but the fact that they’d also know that you were all going in from different directions. Different starting points to offer different advantages. Of course, it also has its disadvantages. You’re having to set off the first pods, rather than walking through a street that’s completely clear already.

The gamemakers don’t care enough to set up the pods again, they’ve got worse things to worry about. Like predicting when you’ll all make it there, and trying to spot the places you hide during the night. For them, it’s going to be a fun game of paranoia that won’t stop until you’re right in their face.

They won’t have a clue either. Not after what Paylor said earlier, with different ways to hide yourself in a crowd. You might not be allowed to antagonize the Capitol citizens, but you’re definitely allowed to raid their wardrobes. Especially the ones that have houses that are already trashed.

If you dress like the citizens, do some crazy fucking makeup to alter your face, and figure out the accent and walk, you’re practically golden. There’s no way that they’ll really be able to tell it's you. If they end up asking for ID, all you have to do is make up some lame excuse about leaving the house in a hurry.

More or less, problem solved.

Until then, you’re all traveling through the streets, just trying not to get caught in the middle of a trap.

“Pod?” Taurus asks, looking back at you.

You hold the Holo up, staring down at the blue for a moment. The next orange dot seems to be miles away, “Not from what I can tell. Just go carefully.”

Taurus goes first, making you guys wait a couple of seconds before following him. In case there is a trap, there will be a few feet between you guys and him, allowing time for escape. It was his idea, it’s not like any of you forced it on him.

“Take a right.” Hydri says, “These alleys are confusing, but it’s our better shot. The main streets are a minefield, aren’t they (Y/n)?”

You shake your head, holding up the Holo for her to see, “Not really, the nearest one might be on the street but--”

“Stop!” Finnick yells to Taurus.

Finnick pushes his way up to you and Hydri, basically pressed against your back as he leans forward to point out the pods, “Right there, see? It’s so faint that we can’t see it.”

“The faint ones are supposed to be the ones that have already been triggered.” you tell Finnick, “It’s what that lady told me.”

“But we’re the first ones through here.” Alioth says, “That can’t be possible.”

While you all stand and stare, thinking up a million possibilities as to why this is happening, your eyes are searching the alleyway for a trigger. If Finnick is right about it being a pod, it’s here, in this little maze of backstreets. You all could be beneath it, on top of it, around the corner from it…

The brick wall of the alley is relatively clean, no one has been through here in awhile. The trash cans that are tucked away have genuinely begun to collect dust. If you were to swipe your finger on top of one of the lids, then you’ll get a thick layer of it on your finger.

This part of the city has long since been deserted. Not only because it was the first to be evacuated, but even worse than that. The gamemakers must have made them leave weeks before the day they thought you’d all be coming through here.

So, there’s definitely something in here.

“How close is the nearest one?” Taurus asks, he hasn’t moved from where he stopped, and that’s probably a good thing.

You move Finnick out of the way with one hand as you look behind you guys, eyes squinted as you search the walls for anything out of place. It has to be subtle, because that’s the way the gamemakers have it in the Holo. They must have figured out a way to hack into them or something.

“What is it?” Finnick asks.

You shush him, eyes sweeping the wall behind him. Brick after brick until--

“Cameras.” You say, pointing at it, “That means peacekeepers, guys.” you turn back to Hydri, “Give me the nearest building that should be safe to hide in.”

“Uh--” Hydri shakes her head for a moment, flipping open the map. She’s obviously trying not to freak out as she runs a finger over the alleyway and into the street, “--yeah, okay. I’ll lead.”

She zips past you, Finnick and Alioth and heads straight for Taurus, showing him the way. The two of them don’t hesitate with walking, which means that you guys shouldn’t either. However, you can’t help but reach into a spare pocket, holding out a throwing knife that Beetee had made for you.

“Fuckers.” you throw.

It lands straight into the glass lens. It won’t be able to watch you now, but that means nothing. The peacekeepers know you guys are here, and that’s all that matters. 

Finnick turns to check where you are, but you’ve already caught up to him and Alioth.

“Quick thinking.” Finnick says.

“I could say the same about you.” 

Hydri brings you guys around a series of corners. It reminds you of the streets of District Two for a moment by how confusing it is the first time you go through. But then you realize there’s a whole pattern to it. That doesn’t mean you had expected where Hydri would bring you guys.

A metal door. Taurus automatically thinks it’s locked, so he goes to kick it in, but Hydri shakes her head and presses a finger to her lips, “Listen.” she whispers.

The five of you all take a moment to try and listen, watching as Hydri pulls out a lockpick, sticking it straight into the lock and beginning to work her magic. It takes a moment of listening to hear it, but then the sound gets considerably louder.

It’s a truck. It’s a truck full of peacekeepers, and they’re not actually coming on foot. There’s going to be a lot more of them than you originally anticipated.

The others must be thinking the same as you because Taurus’ face drops, Finnick pales a little and Alioth opens his mouth to speak, yet nothing comes out. It takes another second before Hydri has popped the door open, and she heads in first, crouched down.

Taurus waits at the door, Finnick shoves you in next, and you go in crouched. Alioth follows, then Finnick, then Taurus--who shuts the door quietly and then locks it again. Hydri is still crouched by the door, waiting for you and Taurus to go up first to evaluate.

None of you actually know what the hell this building is, and by the sound of marching, you’re not going to have much time to figure it out. You and Taurus stop by the same place beneath the counter, and you place your knee against the ground as you squeeze your eyes shut.

This is bad. This is so bad.

You’ve encountered plenty of pods, but those have been relatively easy to bypass. They’re not as dangerous as a squad of peacekeepers are. You set off a pod, the pod is completely done. But peacekeepers? You have to kill each one individually or squeeze your way out.

Escaping them is going to be damn near impossible with five people, especially with a truck full of peacekeepers and god knows if there’s cameras inside of here too.

“Hey,” Finnick says, coming over, “Breathe, it’s going to be fine.”

Right after, there’s a slam on the door behind you guys, and the voices of peacekeepers just outside the building. You look over at Finnick, “Does this look fine to you?”

“I don’t know the layout of the houses, only the streets.” Hydri whispers.

You take a deep breath and another moment of complete silence, before you begin to waddle your way around Taurus. When he goes to stop you, you forcefully push him back, and look at the others.

“Wait.”

You go all the way around the counters, peeking your head around the corner to see the peacekeepers and the actual layout of the building you’re inside. It takes a moment for you to see, and then realize that you’re inside a whole apartment building. There’s a staircase nearby, you guys can go up that as far as it goes…

“Hydri, are there fire escapes?” you ask, looking back.

She nods quickly, and so you motion for them to follow. The pounding on the back door has not only gotten louder, but they’ve begun to cave the metal in from the force they’re using. As for out front--you have no clue what’s going on there.

You lead them all to the staircase, Taurus insists on taking up the back since he can’t have the front. You go up one floor, and then a second, then a third, and then a fourth. The entire way, you’re jiggling door knobs, trying to find one that’s unlocked. If you can run up the fire escape, that would be much easier.

On the fifth floor, you find one single door unlocked, and without a care as to why, you rush everyone inside. It’s only when you go to see for yourself, you freeze where you stand.

“We’re not here to hurt you.” Finnick starts first.

The Capitol citizens are sitting on their couch, enjoying their tea. The woman just barely has the cup in her hold, and her hand is shaking.

“My name is (Y/n) Rosecelli, do you recognize the name?” 

“Yes.” The man says, standing from where he sits, “What are you doing in my house--”

You ignore him, “You shouldn’t be here. You should have gone with everyone else when you evacuated, because the entire city is full of traps.”

As you make your way around the windows, you find the one with a fire escape. It’s above the alleyway, but it’ll have to work. The door you came in downstairs just blew. You pop it open, letting Hydri and Alioth go out first.

“We mean no harm.” you tell them, “We’re just trying to get away. When the peacekeepers come up here, urge them to get you out of here.”

“Why should we?” he demands.

You’re reaching forward, grabbing Finnick’s sleeve as you make him go before you.

“Because if you even step foot into the streets, you’ll die.” you hand the Holo off to Finnick.

“Go.” Taurus tells you, “I’ll go out last.”

The others are already going up the metal staircase, you can hear their rapid feet. The only person that hasn’t started moving yet is Finnick.

“Please.” you look at the woman, “I’m telling you it’s not safe here, not even for us.”

You go through the window, and just as Taurus comes over, you can hear the voices and the dozen pairs of footsteps too. Taurus gives one look to the door, then back to the window. You reach your hand out like you’re going to pull him through, but he slams the window shut instead.

As he’s reaching for the curtains, the automatic is in his hands. He tilts his head at you, like he’s telling you to run while you can. Then, the fabric covers the window, and you can hear the first slam into the door.

“Go.” you tell Finnick, pushing him, “I said go!”

Finnick gets moving after that, flying up the staircase faster than you can. He takes them two at a time, and at every landing, he looks back to make sure you’re following. Finnick just barely gets to the ladder when you hear the first bullet leave the gun, and following are the screams.

He’s just barely up far enough when you begin going. At the top waiting is Alioth and Hydri, reaching out to yank Finnick up the last couple of rungs. When you get up there, Finnick takes you all by himself.

At the top of the roof, you take a moment to catch your breath.

“Where’s Taurus?” Hydri asks, looking between you and Finnick.

“Dead.” you tell her, moving along the top of the roof to find a way out. The gap between roof to roof is narrow, you could take this jump in your sleep, “He couldn’t get through the window in time, so he stayed back to help us, but we’re not out of the woods yet.”

You pull yourself on top of the safety wall on the roof, getting to your feet. You shed the backpack, curse the bulletproof vest for getting in the way, and then you throw. The backpack clears the wall without a problem, and you look back at the others.

“We have to keep moving.” you insist.

You back up as much as you can afford, preparing for the jump.

“(Y/n)--!” Finnick yells.

You throw yourself forward in a run, taking the leap. The second roof is a little lower, which is perfect, you land onto the safety wall below, and tumble for a moment. When you catch yourself, you look right back at the others, who are hanging over to make sure you’re okay.

“It’s not a bad jump. Toss me the Holo.” you hold out your hands.

Finnick tosses it to you, and then he throws his backpack next to yours. He mirrors the way you had gotten onto the wall, before hopping over too. Then Hydri, and then Alioth. Just as you all get your shit back together, there’s more peacekeepers coming.

The four of you keep moving, onto the next roof. Then, you force them all to hide against the wall as you take a look at the Holo. The peacekeepers are nearby, they’re an entire rooftop over, and they have no clue what direction you guys actually moved in.

The Holo offers little help, from what you can see, there’s no faint orange dots. But the nearest solid orange one is literally in the street below. There’s no way you’d want to go down there, and from what Hydri said, the alleyway ended with that metal door. If you get down right now, then you’d have to trigger the trap when you step on it.

Unless you’d rather take a chance.

You shed the backpack, digging through the pockets until you pull out a metal ball. Taurus was using these to set off the traps that required weight and sight of something moving. All you have to do is throw this in the street below to set it off. The peacekeepers that are standing on the street will have to hide.

But it’ll take them a moment to realize what’s going on.

“What are you thinking?” Alioth asks.

“Just watch.” you move past all of them, taking one glance at the neighboring rooftops to see that there’s no one there.

You check the Holo again just to be sure, and then you get up, hurling the ball right where the pod should be. For a second, nothing happens.

Then the ground opens up, and starts to crumble.

“Oh shit.” you say, “Nearest rooftop--now!”

The rumbling of the ground gets louder, and you can hear the yells of the peacekeepers. Finnick and Alioth are the first to the rooftop away from the street--the far back one. Alioth sheds all his gear, Finnick gets down to grab his foot, and then he boots Alioth up.

Alioth squirms for a moment, but he gets up, leaning over for his shit. Finnick tosses them up, and Alioth takes it, and throws it behind him, completely disregarding it. And considering you all are on a time limit, it matters a ton.

Next is Hydri, but she insists her stuff goes up first, since everything inside is important. Anyone can read a map, but you all navigating the city without it will be hell. 

You and Finnick stare at each other for a moment, and since you already know what he’s going to say, you hand the Holo off, then the backpack, and Alioth pulls you up with Hydri barely helping. The second that you’re on the higher roof, you’ve thrown yourself over the side.

The building Finnick’s on is tilting towards the gaping hole in the street, getting further and further away from you guys.

Pain strikes your heart, and you panic a bit when Finnick tries to take off the backpack.

“Jump!” you yell to him, “I’ve got you!”

Finnick listens to you, leaving the backpack and all on as he backs up a bit, gets a running start and bolts for the wall. You lean down as far as you can without losing your balance.

Finnick jumps, and with the amount of distance between the two buildings--you’re sure he won’t make it.

Then, his hand hits yours, and you’re reaching down with a second hand to grab his wrist.

Together, you and Alioth pull Finnick up the wall and into the roof with you guys. Once he’s inside, Finnick stumbles and falls onto his back, breathing heavy. You crouch down next to him, placing your hand on his chest.

“You’re okay?”

Finnick takes a breath in, “You were afraid.”

You crack a smile, “Of course I was.”

Offering your hand to him, he takes it. You pull him onto his feet with barely any struggle, patting his back as you move past him to gather your things again. You buckle the backpack, back in place, and take the Holo from Hydri.

“We should be good for a while.” you look up to Hydri.

“Ladder.” Alioth tells you guys, kicking off a hatch, “We should keep moving.”

“Ready to go, Finnick?” you ask.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Finnick says, giving you a smile.

--

You stare at the bedroom, “This feels weird to do.”

“You’re the one that said you wanted to have an apartment in the Capitol.”

You make a face at Finnick, tilting your head, “There’s a difference between getting a brand new apartment and sleeping in someone else’s bed.”

“Then go sleep in the living room.” Finnick heads into the bedroom, tossing his backpack onto a chair.

“How about you go sleep in a different room.” you jut your thumb towards the door, “I’m not sharing a bed with you.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Finnick gives you a cheeky grin as he sits on the edge of the bed, taking off his bulletproof vest, “Also there are no other rooms besides the living room.”

You sigh, grabbing the door knob, “Goodnight, Finnick.”

“You’re seriously going out there?” Finnick asks, throwing the vest onto the armchair with his backpack, “You’d rather sleep on a couch than a bed?”

“I’d rather sleep alone.” you clarify, “But I’m not getting that either way.”

Finnick pats the bed next to him, “We can make a pillow wall.”

“I’d rather deal with the neck pain.”

“Don’t be a wuss.” Finnick says.

He knew that would make you hesitate. 

And you can tell by the smile creeping onto his face more and more as he pats the bed again, “Come on.” he sings.

You squint, “Why are you so eager?”

“Don’t wanna sleep alone.” Finnick is now removing his shoes, “Haven’t really slept alone in years.”

You take in a deep breath, “That’s not what I expected to hear, and it was the wrong thing to say on your part, too. Going to the living room.”

“You can at least sleep on the floor.”

“The likeness of you staring at me all night is too high.”

“Don’t be so full of yourself.” Finnick scoffs, hurling a shoe at you.

You catch it without a problem, “That’s all I am, sweetheart.”

Finnick’s eyebrows skyrocket, “Sweetheart?”

“God--fuck you.” you turn around, his shoe in hand as you move to the living room.

Finnick is laughing, and he stumbles to catch his footing as he attempts to catch up with you, “You take the bed, I’ll take the floor.”

“Or you could sleep in the living room.”

“Which would still be on the floor.” Finnick says.

You pause in the hallway, watching Alioth and Hydri from it. The two of them are getting along well, Hydri is pretty upset over losing Taurus though. Unfortunately, you didn’t know him very well, therefore can’t mourn for him the same way they can. It was a noble thing he did.

Yet he also took all his weapon supplies down with him when he did it, which is a huge loss. He had--basically--an infinite number of those heavy, metal balls. As for you guys, it’s a limited number, and each one lost brings five pounds out of the backpack. You all discovered that after using so many after Taurus was gone.

Finnick’s not wrong about the living room either, there’s only two couches. And the only thing that looks remotely comfortable after that is the fur rug that’s also kinda matted because the people that lived here apparently didn’t know how to take care of it.

“I’ll take the floor.” You tell Finnick, heading back into the room. You drop everything off by the door.

“No, I’ll take the floor.”

You ignore him, unbuckling the vest as fast as possible before tossing it onto the backpack, and then you turn on Finnick, holding your fists up. 

Finnick laughs, but mirrors your stance, “Bring it on, sister.”

“Oh, right.” you laugh with him, before aiming straight for his gut.

Finnick goes to grab you, but you’re too quick for him, bouncing in your boots as you take a jab at his face. It’s not anything too rough, more of a warning for him to knock off his own shenanigans.

Finnick somehow manages to get a hold of you at some point, twisting your arm and giving you a look, “The floor is mine.”

“Just a minute ago you were arguing for the bed.” you grab onto his wrist to keep him from twisting any further.

“Then I’ll take the bed,” he says.

“I’m fine with that!” you say, swinging your leg up for his crotch.

Finnick doesn’t flinch, staring you right in the eyes. And especially since you didn’t actually fall through with it, it’s extra awkward.

“Get me a pillow and a blanket.” you tell him.

“But you’re sleeping on the bed.” Finnick says.

“Then I’ll get you a pillow and a blanket, geez.” you push him away, since his grasp has considerably weakened.

You start pulling off your shoes, tossing them to your backpack. Once they’re off, you remove the socks too so that your feet can finally breathe, after hours of being walked on and the amount of sweat that they’ve had to endure. When you go over to the bed, you take a seat on it, and then throw yourself back.

The mattress is obviously expensive, you can tell by the way you sink into it. You sigh, closing your eyes.

“Better than your mattress at home?” Finnick jokes.

“Unfortunately.” you say.

“I’m gonna sleep on the bed.” he tells you.

“Whatever, I don’t care anymore.” you say, “I’m actually heading to bed, though. So you can tell Hydri and Alioth that we’re done for the night and we’ll recollect in the morning.”

Finnick smiles, “Sure thing.”

Finnick leaves the room, and you take the time to go ahead and get back onto the bed. You carefully place the necklace onto the nightstand, being sure that it won’t fall off and onto the floor. Then, you get comfortable on the bed.

You all really should be keeping your shoes on and all of that, but it’s not realistic. You’re not going to be able to fall asleep with it on, plus it’ll be like a hundred degrees with that fucking bulletproof vest on.

Finnick comes into the room right as you’re getting comfortable. He tosses a water bottle at you, and you drink half of it before deciding to lay down officially.

“I feel kinda shitty that we’re leaving them out there.” Finnick says, getting into the bed, “I mean, the two victors taking the bed?”

“They told me that I could have it.”

“Whatever.” Finnick laughs, “Hydri said that there was a bedroom back here, and that was it.”

Finnick goes to pull the blanket up, but you kick him with your foot, “Go sleep in the bathtub.”

He rolls his eyes, “Goodnight, (Y/n).”

“Touch me even once, and I swear to god you’re going to wake up with a knife to your throat.”

“That’s not very safe.”

“Neither is touching me.”

[earthstellar]

MTMTE HALLOWEEN 2020 FIC: Costume Party

SUMMARY: 

Rodimus sets up an Earth style Halloween costume party at Swerve’s to help boost the crew’s morale. Things get a little... weird, when they start to behave like the creatures their costumes represent. 

PAIRINGS: 

Rodimus/Megatron and Drift/Ratchet 

WARNINGS: 

It’s spooky, there is some talk regarding Drift’s traumas, and there is bloodshed/violence in a very creepy way. Please be careful and do not read if you are potentially upset by suggestive violence, blood, etc. 

IMPORTANT NOTE: 

I was unable to finish or edit this on time for Halloween; I’ll post the final version to AO3 when it’s ready, but for now, here’s what I have! Enjoy the preview! 

Rodimus was happy to let Swerve host a Human Halloween event in the bar. 

Swerve had wanted to do it for a while, but evidently had to wait for the right Earth season despite the Lost Light being absolutely nowhere near Earth. Rodimus agreed that they could use something fun and distracting to lift the spirits of the crew after a somewhat bad supply pickup had gone south and resulted in a thankfully brief dry spell as they'd had to go without their usual ship wide energon supply, resulting in the bar being shuttered for the duration until they were able to stop at Hedra Nine for a full restocking. 

Ultra Magnus had been the only one pleased at the brief closure of Swerve's bar, as it certainly cut down on his workload, but it was unfortunately Ultra Magnus that had to be convinced of the idea. Hence the emergency command meeting currently underway.

"So explain to me again the purpose of this holiday." Delivered in a flat tone, Ultra Magnus never failed to intimidate. 

As usual, Ultra Magnus loomed over the relatively small table positioned in the centre of the room, where Rodimus, Drift, and Megatron sat with some research in hand on various data pads, as well as some footage from Rewind and Swerve's collection of human media. 

Rodimus, undaunted, continued his pitch. 

"It originally started as a folk religious practice around appeasing the spirits of the dead and keeping ghosts, the spirits of deceased humans, from haunting homes and towns. Essentially. But in modern Earth context, it's all about having fun, dressing up as scary or silly characters and getting to relax a bit during a time of year that Earth people relate with darkness, bad weather, that kind of thing. It makes people happy during what were traditionally difficult times. I think we could use something interesting and fun to get the crew back into better spirits after that mess we had to deal with in the Astreus System. See? Fun can have a logical purpose: To improve crew morale. It’s… fun, Mags. People tend to enjoy it. I think it'll be fine." 

Rodimus leaned back in his chair and grinned, sure that he had made a strong case. Megatron was absorbed in a data pad featuring a collection of human myths and tales about the holiday, centred around the origins of the modern practice as it was the most relevant information, although he was interested in the older history of the celebration and where such practices may have come from. 

Megatron was surprised by the depth and complexity of the human holiday. He was still getting over some of his lingering prejudice towards organics; Reading up on their cultures and history was one way to root out what was left of his more harmful mindset. The best cure for ignorance was often simple research, after all… Orion Pax would be proud. He nearly laughed at the thought. 

But he found himself looking forward to Swerve’s little seasonal party, even if there were no seasons per se to celebrate out in open space. Rodimus had made a good point; The crew could certainly use the distraction, and Rung had advised him to try new things that had no associations with any past memories or experiences as part of something they were trying in therapy. He wasn’t exactly excited for it, but it could tolerate it. Especially with Rodimus also in attendance; Undoubtedly most of the attention would be drawn away from him, at least. 

Ultra Magnus was completely still, a telltale sign that he was considering something, running through his extensive memory storage of ship protocols and broader applicable legislation in the hopes of finding something that could possibly mitigate any poor outcomes— Rodimus had won, it would certainly help crew morale and such intentions were covered by rules regarding health and safety of passengers and crew members. Fair play.

--

The bulletin from Swerve, once approved, had been sent out to everyone on board. The event was fairly simple, a marathon of various Halloween themed human movies, followed by a costume party at the bar. Teams of three were allowed to submit group costumes for judgement by a panel led by Ultra Magnus, partially because it was the only way to get him to participate and partially because it was the only way to have a judged competition without anyone complaining of unfairness. 

The mood had immediately improved, with the Lost Light buzzing about costume design ideas and speculating on who was joining whose team and what the chances of winning might be. 

Rodimus beamed, happy for all the chatter and gossip. His crew was happy, so he was happy. And Megatron was invested as well, glad to go along with it, enjoying the literature about it. He couldn't be more excited for the event; He trusted Swerve to make it as extravagant as possible, despite the limitations of their supplies on board and what little in the way of textile fabrics they could find and pick up from smaller stop-overs at various stations operated by organics along the way prior to the day.

Rodimus had been concerned about the cost, but Drift was enamoured with the spiritual background of the holiday, and seemed all too willing to provide the spare shanix for anything they could find for the crew. 

So far, it had been going incredibly well. Rodimus was excited himself, as he couldn't wait to see everyone's final costumes, but the idea of Megatron getting a break to genuinely enjoy something with him brought warmth to his spark, making it spin even faster in its casing. 

--

 "Okay, everybody! We had a lot of interest in the costume aspect of this whole thing, but it seems only three teams actually came together to participate in the judged competition. However, most of you have turned up in costume anyway, so it all works out! The judging will go faster and you can all guzzle down some of the special drinks on the menu for tonight only. Welcome to Swerve's, and Happy Human Halloween!" 

Leave it to Swerve to kick off the night in style; The doors were thrown open and bots rushed in, claiming booths and seats at the bar, some mild squabbling already starting but quickly dialled back under the watchful eye of Ultra Magnus, who had refused to wear a costume and was fully on duty as usual from his judge's perch near a makeshift stage Perceptor and Brainstorm had thrown together from spare lab materials. 

Nobody had seen anyone's costumes prior to the night, so there was a significant amount of ooing and ahhing over the most successful looks, providing a great distraction for the costume contest participants to slip mostly unnoticed behind the stage setup, preparing for the reveal to the judging panel: Ultra Magnus, Chromedome, and Cyclonus. 

As the bar continued to fill up and the noise levels increased, Swerve put on a specially composed mix tape for the ambient music that his extensive research had stated was sure to be a success: 

Something called the "Munsters Theme" kicked off the night, and things still appeared to be moving ahead as planned, all in attendance having a good night, and the Lost Light hummed with friendly chatter. 

--

The three costume competition teams ended up being 

There was the Command Coven, consisting of Rodimus, Megatron, and Drift with witch themed costumes. Drift was more than happy to provide crystal necklaces and little wands for each of them, each designed to replicate gemstones found on Earth, with Megatron's being amethyst, Rodimus adorned in carnelian, and Drift himself wearing amazonite. 

He had chosen the colours and designs in accordance with his Spectralist beliefs, as well as something Swerve had shown him called "mood boards" from Earth social data nets, which had kept him up well past his usual recharging hours. It seemed to not have impacted him at all for how thrilled he was at the excuse to dive into human spiritual practices, although he faltered somewhat at the sight of the next team's arrival...

The Medbay had submitted a team, largely thanks to Drift constantly bothering Ratchet about it, with Ratchet himself as well as First Aid and Velocity appearing in vampire themed costumes. They had no team name because Ratchet couldn't be bothered, and was more concerned about the medbay being largely unattended during the event... Although begrudgingly, he did admit to Drift that having the central medical staff immediately on hand in the bar probably wasn't all that bad of an idea.

And the final team, the Minibot Monsters, consisted of Tailgate as a swamp monster, Rewind as a mummy, and Swerve himself, wearing the world's least convincing werewolf costume. 

Swerve was the only person with two costumes, so as not to reveal his "true" costume too early in the night; What he was wearing while manning the bar and letting people in was something inspired by Gomez from the Addams Family, although nobody else on board got the reference save for Rewind, who was suddenly upset they hadn't picked that as their group theme. Tailgate was just thrilled to have shiny scales temporarily detailed over his paint job, lending a shimmering effect to his every move. 

-

Back stage, the teams began to intermingle a bit, although mindful of not violating any of Ultra Magnus' rules about potentially spoiling the integrity of the judging process by helping other teams with costumes and so on for about fifty pages. 

Drift took in Ratchet's costume, approaching a bit too tenderly for it to be the effect of any engex he may have consumed before hand. It set off Ratchet's diagnostics coding, returning a reading of increased anxiety indicated by signs of  ever so slightly rising energon consumption levels as Drift's fuel pump started to rev at a slightly elevated rate, as well as a touch of fatigue from Drift's lack of recharge time beforehand. 

"What's wrong? Are you afraid of losing?" Ratchet teased him, but only gently, probing to see where Drift was mentally at the moment. Did dressing up have bad connotations on Rodion? Was Drift relating this to some disguise or situation from his past that was potentially upsetting? Ratchet was ready to leave at any time, stress over an unmanned medbay lingering in the back of his processor; He'd be happy to grab Drift and go if need be.

"I uh, you just did a really good job with your costumes is all. I mean I expected the cloaks and all that stuff, it looks good on you by the way! But the denta..." 

Ah. 

Ratchet shuffled a bit. "Yes, apparently Velocity found in her preparatory reading that human vampire lore emphasises pointed denta. They--" 

Drift interrupted, looking at the ground, looking anywhere but Ratchet's face. "They siphon their energon, or whatever human stuff, blood, from living people. They're siphonists. Like I used to be, way back, when I needed to get fuel, and... And they're evil." 

Immediately, Ratchet realised that of course, Drift would associate the vampire fangs with so much suffering from his own past, with cruel comments and judgements forced on him by bots who had no idea what it was like to starve or have to turn to any viable alternative to survive, including taking energon directly from the fuel lines of others. 

He raised up his hands towards Drift, testing to see if he'd be welcome for a hug. Drift looked up a bit and smiled, stepping into Ratchet's arms and accepting a brief embrace before Ratchet pulled back to look him in the eyes, hands still lingering on his upper arms. 

"Listen, Drift. If this is too much for you, we can go. I can go, you don't have to miss anything. I can take this all off and it's an easy fix; It's a minor procedure to numb and file them back down, and of course we were going to do it afterwards anyway. Velocity thought it would be more realistic if we just went ahead and altered our denta for the sake of it, but I should have thought more about how that might affect you. I--"

Drift leaned up to quickly kiss Ratchet, immediately jerking his head back with eyes wide, seemingly having not fully registered the fangs that met his until they physically pressed against one another, before giving a shakey smile. 

"No, it's okay. I just wasn't ready for it. The thought of you having to resort to... Anything like that, it makes my spark hurt. It reminds me of a lot of things I don't like about how I had to get through some hard times, you know? But I don't want you to go. I want you here. Plus... Now we match, right?" 

Leave it to Drift to try to power through something so significantly distressing to him. Ratchet appreciated the effort, but saw right through it. 

"I mean it, if this bothers you, I'm ready to get back to the medbay, undo it, and we can hit the bar again together later once things have eased up a bit, no problem. The humans might think vampires are evil, and a lot of bots might think siphonists are... Frightening, but I need you to know that they're not the same thing. People are often wrong about what they don't understand, and you only did what you had to in order to survive. And I'm glad you did it. If you hadn't, you wouldn't be here. With me, at a party that will be fun if you still want to go through with all this." 

Drift optics gradually returned to their usual brightness, his signs of anxiety slowly disappearing on Ratchet's constant scans, putting him at ease as well. 

"Thank you, Ratchet. I'll be okay once the shock wears off. I think it's a good costume choice, and you really do look good in the cloak. The black makes your white paint look brighter! And it's fun to think of all the spooky human stories... And some of our own too, I guess. Imagine, a siphonst medic! You would't have any patients, that's for sure." Drift smiled, making a point to flash his own fangs. Clearly he'd recovered from the initial shock, although Ratchet decided he might try to talk it out with him at some point when they weren’t caught up in all this. He didn't want Drift to suffer any blows to his self-esteem, or fall back into a trauma related depression, even a relatively minor one. He was glad Rung had a positive policy for booking short notice sessions, which reassured him a bit. Any problems, they could all work it out together.

"Well, I think anyone who needs a doctor badly enough is willing to go to whatever doctor happens to be around, in my experience. Siphonist or not. And are you calling my paint job dull? I'll have you know I polished my armour for this. Or First Aid did, at least. He was insistent that we represent the medical team as best as possible." 

"Seems like he's learning some things from you about professionalism, Mister No Crystals in the Medbay." 

"Hey, Ultra Magnus agreed with me. It violates... Some rule." 

"Sure it does." 

--

It was finally time for the costume contest, and 

--

"What happened? What happened? Hey! Someone else get up already!" Rodimus wasn't one to panic, but he was maybe actually slightly panicking. A little bit. 

After the Great Sword had reacted to Drift's incantation, everyone had experienced simultaneous processor reset from the energy surge, and it was taking some time for people to come around from the harsh and unexpected reboot. 

It seemed everyone in the bar had been affected by the wave, not dissimilar to an electromagnetic pulse, with bots slumped over their tables, a few leaning precariously over the bar, and others laying on top of each other where there had been only standing room left. 

Rodimus had been the first to wake, having fallen into a draped position half over Megatron and half pressed into the makeshift stage curtain, briefly tangled in his distress over waking up and feeling... Odd. 

He felt like his spark was super charged, like he had ingested far too much high grade energon and was borderline frying his own circuits. It was like his fuses had been blown, but a quick self-diagnostic came back completely normal, nothing out of the ordinary, everything working fine. 

His sensory input felt magnified somehow, like he was feeling the EM fields of everyone in the bar at a hundred fold. 

It wasn't bad. Just very, very odd. Which was never a good indicator of anything, the way things tended to go on the Lost Light.

He briefly considered paging the medbay, when he caught the passed out shaped of Ratchet and Drift together in the centre of the stage; Ratchet must have picked up on whatever was happening and had made a dive for Drift, resulting in both of them clattering to the ground on top of each other. 

Everyone he would turn to for help had also been affected; There was no 

"Megatron, wake up!" 

—-

"Ratchet, oh Primus, please, are you okay?" Drift had finally woken up, exhausted by his lack of recharge on top of the huge surge of energy that had burst forth from the Great Sword, which was connected somehow to his spark energy... He was drained, but determined to get a response out of Ratchet before he could even consider his own wellbeing.  

"Ratchet! Get up! Something's happened with the sword, and it's my fault, and I don't know what happened!" Genuine fear started to seep into his vocaliser, which was likely what finally jarred Ratchet back into awareness.

"...Drift? Are you alright?" Ratchet's voice was low and rough, still drowsy from the forced reboot. Drift knelt further down to help get a grip under Ratchet's shoulders to keep him from slumping over again, being careful of anywhere that may have been injured as he collapsed. 

"My scans are showing me you’re fine, but I think I need to run a diagnostic on myself... I feel like I haven't refuelled in Primus knows how long. My fuel tank was reasonably topped up before this, is anyone else experiencing similar symptoms...?" Ratchet was slowly regaining his bearings, relying less on Drift for balance once being sat upright, although they both remained seated with their legs tucked under them in the middle of the stage. Drift felt he could relax ever so slightly now that Ratchet was responsive enough to be engaging his medical protocols. 

"We all feel a bit strange. Me and Roddy feel overcharged almost, like having two sparks in one frame. It’s… intense, but manageable. Megatron is still out, and Roddy seems to be more charged up than I am. It might be a Matrix thing with him, we don't know. My fuel levels are good, feeling the opposite of drained right now. Our internal diagnostics are coming back normal, but that's clearly wrong. Any ideas?" 

Ratchet was slow to reply. He was never slow to reply, not when it came to medical matters.

"Ratchet?" Drift grabbed Ratchet's shoulders, preparing to brace him and lay him out gently in case he lost consciousness again. 

"Drift, I need you to listen to me carefully. I don't know what happened. I don't know what's happening now. I can't identify any apparent problems in my own self-diagnostics, aside from the erroneous fuel tank level discrepancy. I'm not leaking fuel from anywhere, I'm not burning it off any faster than usual. I'd need access to the medbay for more in-depth scans, but I don't think it's a good idea to be wandering the halls right now. We should keep this contained to the incident area as much as we can..." As he continued to speak, Ratchet looked more and more stressed, more concerned. And that concerned Drift. 

"What are you getting at, why are the halls unsafe? Do you think this is some kind of attack? It originated from my Great Sword, it was... I think it was the incantation. It had to be. Ultra Magnus made sure the threat level was at a minimum--" 

"No. I think that if we went out there, we'd be making the halls dangerous ourselves. Don't you feel that?" 

Drift felt his spark grind to a halt.

"What are you talking about? I feel fine, I feel suspiciously better than fine. Are you okay? Are you dizzy?"

"...No. I'm energy depleted. I need fuel." Ratchet leaned forward until they were pressed flush against each other, their knees touching in their kneeled position on the stage, chests touching right over their spark chambers. Drift kept his hands rested on Ratchet's shoulders, grip light, unsure of what to do. 

When suddenly, and with all the strength of a field medic frame, Ratchet leaned in and closed the rest of the distance, pushing Drift backwards to the floor so his knees lifted from their bent position and his legs splayed out under Ratchet, who was now so close to laying across the top of him that it nearly took Drift's breath away.

Ratchet whispered directly against Drift's neck cables, close enough to his audials that it made Drift's spinal strut shiver and lock up. "I need warm fuel. I need your fuel.”

Drift immediately froze. This didn't sound like Ratchet. This couldn't be Ratchet. Because Ratchet would never make him feel this vulnerable, he would never do this. Ratchet isn't a siphonist...

...Or he wasn't before whatever just happened, happened. 

"Don't do this!" Drift had intended to scream it, but it came out as a whimper that only Ratchet could hear as his breath was taken away by the pointed denta scrapping gently along the central fuel lines in the side of his neck, just above his collar plating and below the corner of his tilted helm, as Ratchet’s glossa searched for the most medically sound place to puncture the lines and begin to siphon fuel. 

Imagining Ratchet's mouth full of his energon, still hot from being cycled through his systems, Ratchet’s face swirling the fuel around his fangs and smiling at him in sick contentment the way Drift knew he himself had done to others in his past filled him with a level of dread and distress that he didn't know he was still capable of feeling. 

He tried to roll to knock Ratchet off balance, but he was now pinned beneath the medic, whose wider frame was made for detaining unruly patients and built to cope with such resistance. The moment had only caused Ratchet to get a better glimpse at his central fuel lines, Drift's neck having flexed in the process, encouraging a small thrilled hum from Ratchet that terrified Drift straight to the spark. 

He couldn't let Ratchet do this. He wouldn't let him become a siphonist. Ratchet is a good mech, a kind-hearted mech, and Drift refused to imagine what would happen if Ratchet drained him of fuel and snapped out of whatever this was and hated himself the way Drift had hated himself...

...But at the same time, they were in a room full of vulnerable and disoriented bots. Many of whom had still not fully rebooted and had no chance of putting up any defence at all. If Ratchet was under some spell, or whatever was happening, then there was no guarantee that he would be able to be restrained, or that he could restrain himself, from simply going after someone else. 

Drift realised in horror that if Ratchet didn't get his fuel fix from him, right now, he would likely just hurt someone else while in this trance-like state, focused solely on satisfying a feral hunger... Drift could at least relate, and was awake enough to consent as much as possible under the circumstances, and it didn't take all that much effort for Drift to talk himself into going limp. 

As he rested back flat against the stage floor, Ratchet briefly froze, giving Drift a flash of hope that he was coming to his senses, that his medical protocols were overriding whatever this was and that he would immediately jump off and apologise and demand another systems check before they started working out whatever was going on. 

But instead, Ratchet made some awful little low trilling noise, lowering more of the weight of his frame against Drift's chest, and whispered into his neck: "Your vents are spewing out so much heat. Your fuel will be so warm in my mouth. Listen to my voice, Drift. You know how much you mean to me. I won't hurt you, I'll never hurt you. I'm a medic. I want you to feel good, be healthy. Forever. I want you to feel the way I do." 

Drift was caught between old traumas and the trauma currently unfolding. He had no response, cleansing fluid building up behind his optics, threatening to cloud his vision and steam up his lenses from the inside from all the heat his rapidly spinning spark was generating throughout his systems. 

He vaguely became aware of some almighty commotion happening somewhere in the bar, but he didn't dare attempt to move. He couldn't have even if he tried. It was painful hearing Ratchet like this, the kind voice worn by age that he was familiar with tainted by something rough and sinister, for all the friendliness it still contained. 

"Did you read all the human myths, or just about the crystals? It seems the Earth vampires can turn another human into one by sharing blood, their energon. After I take a sip from you, would you bite into me? Or would you prefer if I clean cut one of my fuel lines for you to suck on? Would you do that for me? We match, after all.” Drift could feel Ratchet flash a wide smile into the side of his neck. 

Ratchet's voice was starting to have some kind of cognitive effect on Drift's processor, numbing him to the waves of anxiety and making the noises in the bar seem even further away, sinking him into Ratchet's grip, making it impossible to activate his own vocaliser. 

"We could be together forever, Drift. No more flitting in and out of each others lives. Security. Safety. Stability." 

With Drift completely flattened beneath him, helm lolled to the side and central fuel line finally exposing the medically ideal spot to place a bite, Ratchet was satisfied. He leaned in and sunk his pointed denta into the perfect centre of the line, immediately creating a suction and drawing a swift stream of warm energon into his mouth, a deep moan from Drift weakly rising from beneath his grasp--

--And at that moment, Rodimus with immense precision drew down a bar stool leg directly into Ratchet's helm, the metallic clang echoing through the room as Ratchet’s head was forced away from Drift’s neck, a pool of energon steaming up from the tear in the central fuel line, ripped open further by Ratchet’s pointed denta never having had the chance to loosen the bite first. 

Rodimus quickly put himself between Drift and Ratchet, kicking Ratchet in the shoulder to create more distance while avoiding harming him as much as possible before turning to face Drift. 

“Primus, Drift, we shouldn’t have left you two alone, some of the others started waking up and Megatron’s still struggling a little with the hard reboot, are you okay? Drift?” 

Drift barely registered what Rodimus was panicking about as he was only gradually coming out of whatever state Ratchet had put him in. He felt like his temperature regulator has to be malfunctioning now, or perhaps he had just lost too much heat from pushing himself too hard and venting off too much of the heated air that speedster frames tended to build up. 

Setting himself upright, he relied on Rodimus for support, immediately showing the tear in his fuel line, optics slightly foggy and looking off to the side. “I need to wrap this up… It’s not as bad as it could be, but it really is, isn’t it? What’s wrong with Ratchet, Roddy?” It was hard to hear Drift’s voice, usually so lively and firm, take a low and demure tone made rough by the damage to his neck. 

They both looked over to where Ratchet had been unceremoniously kicked on his back, Rodimus continuing to stay tensed and alert in front of Drift in case Ratchet tried to make another move.

Cautiously, Rodimus spoke up as his right hand helped Drift hold the fuel line edges together; Rodimus winced at how much it must hurt, but Drift was making no complaints as it was slowly and carefully wrapped by some previously subspaced tape. In fact, Drift seemed… Sad, more than scared. He was being too quiet, moving too little even considering his injury, and his EM field was full of exhaustion and distress. 

“What the hell happened? Ratchet, you… I didn’t hit you that hard, did I? Can you answer me? What were you doing?”  He wanted to ask why, but one thing at a time. He suspected that Ratchet didn’t know the answer to that last one, and Rodimus didn’t want to press someone who was potentially unstable and clearly dangerous at the moment. He pressed his back closer to Drift, fully ready to defend him if needed. 

Rodimus took in Ratchet’s crumpled pose, still laid out where he had been kicked back, a look of absolute shock and strain on his face as his fists curled tightly against the stage floor, steaming energon dipping from around his slightly open mouth in small pools as he ex-vented heavily. 

As Ratchet shook his helm a bit, he replied with an absolutely wrecked voice, as if it had been his vocaliser nearly ripped out instead of Drift’s. “I, Rodimus, I don’t know how long I’ll be lucid for. My fuel tank levels are registering within perfectly normal levels, but it feels like I’m being constantly drained, like I’m losing fuel from a leak that doesn’t exist—“

“So you put a leak in Drift?” Rodimus knew he shouldn’t have said anything as Ratchet’s head whipped up and stared him directly in the optics, the shattered look on his face so unfamiliar on Ratchet’s features that it startled Rodimus to see it. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. My scans are coming back fine, all of them, I can’t find what’s wrong.” Real panic was seeping into Ratchet’s vocaliser, a bizarre and awful contrast to his usual calm steadiness even in the worst of situations. “You don’t understand, Rodimus, whatever energy the Great Sword released has altered my systems, perhaps everyone’s systems… Drift said you both felt overcharged, but I feel energy depleted, and it’s doing something to my processor. I feel so strange and— And Drift.” 

The entire time he spoke, without his knowledge, his glossa lightly flicked out here and there to catch some spare flecks of Drift’s energon that had settled around his mouth. It set off a sick feeling in Rodimus’ spark, as it was clear Ratchet genuinely couldn’t help it, as if his coding had gone severely wrong somewhere. It reminded him of a cyberfox licking its paws after a hunt. It was too unrefined and subtly animalistic for a bot like Ratchet. It looked wrong, it felt wrong, and he could feel a surge of concerned sadness burst forth from Drift’s EM field behind him. Evidently he’d finished wrapping his fuel line and was now focused on Ratchet. 

Ratchet noticed and finally moved, only slightly to avoid startling Rodimus into unnecessary action, as he picked up on Drift’s distressed EM signals. 

“Drift, Primus, are—“ Ratchet’s optics went wide and he jerked back oddly, not moving from his place lest Rodimus make a move, but as though he were torn so completely that he couldn’t move. “—My medical protocols demand your neck be examined. If I do it, I don’t know what I’ll do. Where’s Velocity and First Aid?” 

—-

Megatron bellowed across the bar, “They’re behaving oddly, get ready to fight them off!” 

—-

"Drift, we're medics. We know where to bite to take the most energon straight from the central fuel line the fastest. I just did it to you, and being ripped free like that can rip the cable lining and weaken the integrity of the fuel line under pressure. It ruptures and causes a major bleed. It can kill someone. It will kill someone. If at any point we start failing to restrain ourselves, you have to incapacitate us. Tie us up. Do whatever. We are officially dangerous until this is resolved. I can't say my behaviour will be predictable, or sensible."

He then turned abruptly to Rodimus and Megatron, Ultra Magnus off to his opposite side, ready to intervene if needed. 

"One of you, or both of you, I am asking you to do whatever you need to do if I go after Drift again. If I go for his central fuel lines again, he's already damaged. Another bite will weaken the line structure, its integrity will fail, and he will lose too much energon to be within safe levels. His nanites will take far too long to repair a gash that size. Please." 

Ratchet hung his head, avoiding everyone's optics. 

"I am a medic. I heal bots. I don't kill them. 

---

AND THAT’S AS FAR AS I GOT, I hope to finish this up and edit it for AO3 soon, Happy Halloween! 

[joaquinwhorres]

The Fool (Ch. 3) {Fred Weasley x F!OC}

SUMMARY ››››› After getting tangled up with the Weasley Twins during the events of the Quidditch World Cup, Wren Collings’ life takes a turn for the chaotic. It threatens everything she has going for her, but she’s not convinced that’s entirely a bad thing.

PAIRING ››››› Fred Weasley x Female OC

WORD COUNT ››››› 5,500-ish

WARNINGS ››››› There is no depression or mental health issues in this story, but there are mentions of death, violence, abuse, some PTSD, etc. As most of the specific warnings revolve around major plot points or are found throughout most chapters, I’m just going to rate certain chapters on the movie scale. This is chapter PG-13.

A/N ››››› This chapter This chapter kicked my butt. But the fact that it's written and posted and I did not disappear for a year (which has been known to happen when I can't seem to get a chapter right) is a victory.

Series Masterlist | Read on ff.net

Word of the Thom Spiro Incident--what Wren had finally agreed to call the small display of justice at lunch--spread quickly throughout the castle. While this was somewhat worrisome, it was not an entirely unexpected consequence. Besides, for the most part, the student body seemed focused on the fact that Thom had rather abruptly turned completely violet and not so much on the hows, whos, and whys of the situation.

Although Wren was fairly certain that it was only a matter of time before those questions would ripple through the castle, she was proved wrong on her way to Divination. As she was passing by a gaggle of third year girls, she overheard their whispers: apparently, during the fourth to fifth block class change, Professor Snape had been seen arguing with Professor Sprout about her standards for admission to her NEWT level class. This news quickly passed from student to student, bringing new life to the buzz surrounding the Incident and easing Wren's anxiety a bit.

While a purple student and quarreling professors would be enough to keep the student body talking for at least a week, right before dinner the drama came to a head when loud shouts were heard coming from the Hospital Wing. According to Lee, three girls had been dragged out by Hagrid and Madam Hooch, kicking and screaming at each other. From what he could gather, each of them had been to visit Thom only to discover he was dating all three of them.

This of course had inspired Fred Weasley to give a small toast in Wren's honor, despite her protests that he "Sit down!" and "Shh!". Afterwards, the Twilight Protectorate--the name Alicia saw fit to bestow upon them--spent the rest of dinner sharing the various speculations they'd heard throughout the day about "the purple Ravenclaw."

But much in the same way the purple slowly faded from Thom's skin, so did the excitement surrounding the incident. Life moved on. Thom's Herbology station was moved closer to Professor Sprout, the Weasley twins stopped making a show of watching Wren's every move, and normal life at Hogwarts resumed.

For the most part.

There seemed to be a lingering closeness between Wren and her dorm mates. Alicia had taken to insisting that Wren come to the library with her and Angelina and Katie or join their game of Exploding Snap or come and lay out on the lawn with them.

This was exactly where the girls found themselves stretched out now, Angelina halfheartedly working on her muggle studies homework, the rest having long given up on their own parchments and books scattered between them.

“Reckon we don’t have too many days left like this,” Katie mused, tucking her arms under her head as she lifted her face to the sun.

“I’m surprised we even got this one,” Angelina remarked, scratching out an answer and rewriting a new one.

It was unusually pleasant even for early October. The girls' jumpers were plenty to keep them warm against the cool breeze that swept across the lawn every now and then, rustling their parchments and flipping pages in their books.

"It'd be nice if it stayed like this for your birthday," Katie said. "We could do something on the lawn then."

Angelina shook her head as she continued to scan through the book in front of her for a bit of information. "We don't need to do anything for my birthday."

"You're turning 17," Alicia pushed, as if the fact that Angelina would finally be of age was lost on her. "You'll officially be able to do magic whenever you want."

"And drink whatever you want," Wren put in, lifting her head up from her folded arms and propping her chin up in her hand.

"I want to see Angelina do shots of Firewhiskey," Katie smiled, turning onto her stomach to stare at Angelina. Angelina, for her part, simply rolled her eyes.

"Not going to happen," she said, with a firm shake of her head, quill scratching lightly against the parchment. "The only thing that's really going to be any different over the next eight months is that I can enter the Tournament."

Alicia gasped excitedly, jerking up into a seated position. "You're going to do it?"

"Do what?"

Wren jumped as there was a flurry of robes next to her and Lee Jordan settled himself next to her, stretching out his feet and leaning back on his arms.

"Angelina's going to enter the Tournament!" Alicia responded as Fred and George dropped themselves into the spaces between Katie and Alicia, and Wren and Angelina.

"Excellent," Fred said, nudging books out of the way with his foot. "We'll be putting our names in as well."

"But your birthdays aren't until April," Katie's brow furrowed as she stacked the book Fred moved on top of another one.

"That's right," George nodded.

"You have to be 17 to enter," Katie pressed.

A smile quirked at the corner of Fred's lips. "And when has something as trivial as a rule ever stopped us?"

Alicia snorted, and Angelina heaved a sigh, closing her book and rolling up her parchment.

"The way we see it, all we have to do is fool the judge. And if he--"

"It," Wren corrected, twirling a blade of grass between her fingers. The eyes of the group fell on her as Fred's sentence was abandoned.

"It?" George repeated.

Wren looked up, glancing around the circle. "Well, the judge can't be a person."

"Do go on," Fred extended a hand as if to prompt her. Angelina smacked at his shoulder and he withdrew his hand, scowling at her.

Wren flushed, and shook her head, but George nudged her with his shoulder. "C'mon, all theories are worth hearing."

"Well, it can't possibly be a professor from any of the three schools; they're not impartial. And it's unlikely it'll be a Ministry person either since a victory for Hogwarts is a victory for Britain. And I doubt they'd get some international ministry member to come in and decide. For one, they're much too busy, and for two, they'd be easily swayed by international politics. Which means that it's probably some sort of object like the sorting hat, or maybe a creature."

There was a brief silence after her observation followed by a small "Huh." out of Fred.

"That does make what Dumbledore said about personally ensuring no underage student hoodwinks the judge," Alicia nodded. "It's unlikely a judge able to determine the best the school has to offer would be easily tricked."

Fred looked thoughtfully over Wren's shoulder, his eyes distant and brow furrowed slightly. Beside her George was also stiller than normal, only drumming his thumb lightly against his leg.

"Reckon you'll put your name in, if we figure out a way around the judge?" Lee asked Alicia who shook her head.

"I'm happy being a spectator for once," she said, pulling her knees into her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "I just hope one of you gets it. It'll be nice to have a Gryffindor champion to cheer for."

"Trust me," Fred said, his eyes landing on Wren. "There'll be a Gryffindor champion."

Wren sank into a spot at the Gryffindor table with just twenty minutes to spare before she had to head off to Charms. It was not the first time she'd woken up with a start followed immediately by a sinking sensation at the sight of her empty dorm. It wasn't even the first time this year. She'd cut it even closer just two weeks back. Still, any morning that entailed sprinting down seven staircases all while praying that Peeves didn't notice her never instilled a feeling of victory or relief or even gratitude when she turned into the Great Hall and there was still food on the tables.

All that to say, she was not in the best of moods when the Weasley twins sat themselves across the breakfast table from her with identical mischievous smiles on their faces.

"How would you like to make magical history?" Fred asked.

Wren blinked twice, her heart still racing from her run, as she stared between the two of them. "Morning to you as well. I'm fine enough, thank you for asking. And no, I wasn't about to use that jam, please help yourself," she said bitterly, gesturing to where George was topping a bit of toast with raspberry jam that Wren had just been about to use before it slipped from under her fingers.

"Excellent, now that we've gotten the pleasantries out of the way, what do you say?" Fred gestured for her to answer. Wren continued to glare at George until he handed the jar back over to her so she could continue fixing her breakfast.

"What do you mean magical history?" she asked. Despite the fact that her attention was on her plate, she could practically feel the grins grow on the twins faces. It was rather annoying.

"Knew she'd be curious," Fred shot to George.

"Never doubted it," George shot back.

Wren placed the knife down, shaking her head. "I take it back. If I know you two, this isn't going to be anything good. I don't want any part of it."

"Look at this, Fred, she's got us all figured out."

"Well, George, we have had three conversations together. I'd say that's enough to infer motives."

Wren ignored the bickering and leveled them with a look. "I know you two well enough to know that you're Fred," she said pointing to the twin claiming to be George, "And you're George."

Their eyes brightened with delight. "Well spotted, Collings," Fred complimented. "What gave us away?'

Before Wren had a chance to make up some sort of answer--there was no way she was going to give away the tricks Angelina had taught her--George cut in. "You're forgetting, Fred, that Wren and I are close personal friends," he remarked with a significant look, punctuating the statement with a bite of his toast.

Wren's eyes widened and she felt the heat rush into her cheeks. "We don't need to speak about that. Ever."

Fred laughed. "That bad was it?"

"Hang on now, you hardly gave me any warning," George argued, defensively.

Wren glowered at them some more and resolved herself to never be late to breakfast ever again.  "Get back to your original point or I'm leaving."

"Fine, fine," Fred agreed, squaring his shoulders to face her. "How would you like to be the first witch to brew a potion that stumps Albus Dumbledore?"

"Be serious then," Wren shook her head, expecting the twins to come clean about asking for help with a prank or some other sort of mischief. But instead, they simply peered intently at her with expectant looks on their faces. "You're joking. No. "

"You're in NEWT level potions," George said.

"As a Gryffindor no less," Fred added.

"Angelina says you have top marks too." George casually bit into his toast again.

Wren's stomach let out a grumble and she paused the conversation long enough to take a bite of her scone. She chewed it slowly, eyeing the twins as if expecting them to break and admit they were teasing her. Instead they looked at her with eyebrows raised and hands folded in front of them as if at a business meeting. She swallowed, shaking her head.  "That just means I'm good at paying attention and following instructions."

George gave a meaningful look to Fred. "Modest, this one."

"Incredibly," Fred nodded back at his brother. Wren huffed and returned to her breakfast, multitasking by giving the two a rude hand gesture.

They didn't seem to get the point.

"It's admirable, really."

"A shining example to all of wizardkind."

"Stop it, you two," Wren snapped.

Fred shook his head, reaching over to Wren's plate and stealing a piece of bacon, despite the fact that there was a perfectly good platter of it sitting slightly to his right.

"You've got a gift Wren Collings," George appealed. "This could be your time to show it off."

"Not only that, but you're clever and more devious than you appear,"  Fred said, waving the bacon at her. "Far more devious than a prefect's girlfriend should be."

Wren shot him a dirty look, but before she could properly chew him out, George jumped in. "We need your help."

She looked down at her plate and picked up the remaining piece of bacon before either of the twins could reach for it. "What potion do you want me to brew?"

This mischievous grins were back on their faces, and this truly was a horrible idea.

"Just a simple ageing potion." Fred shrugged.

"Oh yes, very simple; all I have to do is brew a potion that instantaneously ages every cell in your body the exact same amount."

"That about explains it," George nodded, and Wren shook her head.

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you need an ageing potion?"

"Thought it'd be obvious," Fred said, reaching over to her plate to grab a scone, and she slapped his hand away. "It's for the Tournament of course. Just in case there's some sort of measure to make sure we're 17."

Wren laughed again, this one slightly more disbelieving than full on incredulous. "There's no way I'll be able to make a potion good enough  to get you into the Tournament--get your own bloody scone, Fred." Wren snapped, batting away his hand once more. He raised his eyebrows but finally started to pick at the surrounding serving plates rather than take from hers.

"Don't be so self-defeating Wren," George broke in. "You brewed one well enough on the NEWTs to get an O. Besides, we're not asking you to get us picked--just to help us submit our names."

Wren shook her head. "Do you have a plan for gathering the ingredients? Or figuring out how to haul a cauldron to some unseen location so I can brew a potion without anyone in Hogwarts noticing?"

Fred paused from preparing his own scone to look at Wren disbelievingly. "It's like you don't even know us at all."

"And here we were thinking that you got us."

Wren rolled her eyes, but she couldn't ignore that small question that had wriggled its way out of the back of her mind: could she create a potion that stumped Dumbledore's magic? No, the thought was absolutely ludicrous. He'd been practising magic for 100 years more than her. But could she create a potion that slid through a crack in Dumbledore's thinking? She didn't need to overcome his magic; she just needed to outwit it. And who was better at outwitting brilliant thinkers than the two boys sitting in front of her.

"I'll consider it," Wren said, taking a sip of her pumpkin juice.

The energy buzzing around the two boys was almost electric. "They're going to read about you in History of Magic," George declared.

"Or at least fall asleep on your page."

Wren broke off a bit of her scone and tossed it at Fred who allowed it to bounce off of him before popping it into his   mouth.

"Might want to pack up the rest," George said, gesturing at Wren's plate. "Breakfast is over in--" The serving dishes around them vanished, and Wren just managed to grab a half of her scone before her plate and its contents disappeared as well.

She really had to wake up earlier in the morning.

"Here," George said, offering a piece of toast he had snatched up. Wren didn't even bother to fake a protest at the kindness, and instead took it from him with a small thanks. After all, he was part of the reason she hadn't been able to eat her full breakfast. A small part, but a part.

Wren rose from the table, the twins getting up as well and moving to her side. "Shouldn't take much to get the ingredients. Quick OWL to the Apothecary should get us what we need." Fred thought aloud.

"Might have to go closer to home than that," George said with a meaningful look to Fred. Fred nodded, thinking about it before his eyes turned to Wren.

"I suppose we do know someone taking NEWT level potions who does have access to--"

"No," Wren said, clearly. "I'm not stealing from Snape."

"We wouldn't call it stealing," George protested.

"It's simply a reallocation of supplies," Fred shrugged. "Still for an education."

"A hands on, useful education."

Wren rolled her eyes and continued on. "You're in charge of the cauldron and ingredients. If I agree to do anything it's just to make the potion."

"Oh, you'll agree," Fred said, trailing behind her slightly with George.

"You're sure, are you?" Wren asked, turning around in the hall.

Fred's eyes sparkled. "Dead certain."

Wren rolled her eyes and spun back around, polishing off the remainder of her scone and brushing her hand against her side. Behind her the boys continued their conversation about ingredients and she worked her way to the Charms classroom.

"Hey Collings, my mate thinks you're tidy!" a voice shouted out to her, and she stopped, spinning around to see  Simon strolling up with Hector and Edmund. Simon rolled his eyes as Hector laughed, and Wren smiled, allowing him to catch up to her. Fred and George also stopped, and she could feel both pairs of eyes on her.

"Good morning, love," Simon said, coming up to her and letting Hector and Edmund pass by snickering and casting a glance back at Simon.

"It's morning, not sure how good it is though," Wren pouted, falling into step with him.

Simon smiled. "You shouldn't be so grumpy in the mornings. It doesn't suit you," he said, rubbing the crease in her brow with his finger. "Besides, isn't it a good morning when you get a rare sighting of your boyfriend?"

"A fair point," Wren agreed, allowing herself a smile as he threw an arm around her shoulders.

"Is that toast?" he asked, looking down at her hand, and Wren nodded. Simon reached over plucking it from her grip and taking a bite. "You mind? I'm still famished."

"Go ahead," Wren nodded.

"Where are you off to then?" Simon asked, taking another bite of toast.

"Charms."

The word didn't come from Wren. Instead, Fred appeared suddenly by her side, George next to him. Wren could see the subtle shift in Simon's face. The confusion and small question there as he looked down at her. "Is that so?"

Wren rolled her eyes, ignoring the way her heart seemed to skip over a beat. "Unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?" Fred asked, putting a hand over his own heart. "I'm wounded Wren, I thought we were friends."

Wren snorted and shook her head.

"You're friends?" Simon asked, looking down at her again before casting a glance and Fred and George. "That's news to me."

"Keep a catalogue of her friends do you?" Fred asked. Wren turned to face him, an eyebrow raised. His words seemed sharper than his usual teases. Her heart beat a bit quicker.

"Smart. Must come in handy when this one goes on about her day," George nodded. "Or at parties, I'd imagine."

Wren laughed, the sound higher than normal. She cleared her throat and reached up, threading her fingers through Simon's so that both hands rested on her shoulder.  "Our campsites were next to each other at the World Cup and we got on," she explained, looking up at Simon as he absently bit from the toast, eyes still on the twins. "Now they bother me whenever they have the chance."

"You know us. Botherers." George said, and Simon shook his head at it all. He might have said something else if the Hallway didn't split, one leading to the greenhouses, and the other off to Charms.

"Well, so long as they don't bother you too much," he said, pulling Wren in closer to him. He leaned down and kissed her hard, his lips pressing against hers so forcefully, she felt the blood and heat rush to her face as she attempted to pull the kiss back into a normal hallway peck. She was rather unsuccessful and stayed locked in his embrace until eventually he let go, and with a nod of goodbye at Fred and George, turned off down the hall.

"Change your mind about how good the morning is Collings?" George nodded appraisingly, as a slightly stunned Wren turned back towards them.

"Oh, shove it," Wren snapped lightly before following them off to class and enduring more teasing than she possibly should have to for it being before nine in the morning.

She intended to tell them no.

It wasn't as if she had any moral qualms with breaking the rules, but it seemed to be a lot of wasted time and energy and for what--so they could attempt to enter a tournament they weren't even prepared for? There was no guarantee they'd even be picked. And what if it came back on her and she got in trouble for breaking the rules.

No. She'd have to tell them no.

Even though Simon was right and the school year had smoothed out some in terms of workload, she was too busy to willingly waste her time on a pipe dream.

But the spare bits of time that were already wasted once she was finished taking notes in class and waiting for everyone else to catch up? That wasn't too much time to devote to the idea.

Wren bent over her parchment, scanning over her list of prospective ingredients. There was the set list needed, and then several others she'd included on a whim: dandelion root, tadpole legs, a little more fluxweed. She considered the list for a second before scrawling at the bottom: boomslang skin?

"What are you working on?" Cedric whispered, lowly. Wren's head snapped towards him, an arm reflexively coming around her parchment as if to shield it from view.

He let out an amused exhale and raised his eyebrows as if to say Really? "An illicit project then?"

"No," Wren returned defensively. She paused, taking a moment to fully consider it.  "Maybe."

Cedric smiled, and she lifted up her pitiful shield arm, putting her head  in her hand instead to shield his face from view as she slid the parchment over to him.

"An ageing potion?" Cedric asked, a tinge of disappointment coloring his voice. "What's so--" he seemed to catch on then. "For the Tournament?"

Wren nodded and dropped her hand. "It's not for me, though."

"Of course not," he dismissed, eyes returning to the list of ingredients with her additions and ideas about ways to modify the brewing process.

"It's not," Wren protested a bit too loudly, casting her glance around and finding Snape staring at her. She picked up her quill and bent her head down, pretending to be copying more notes.

"I don't blame you for wanting to enter, I'm planning on it," Cedric noted, dropping his own voice lower as well. "What's with all of the extra ingredients?"

Wren chanced another look up at Snape, whose head was bent over a stack of parchments on his desk. She looked over Cedric's shoulder at her notes. "If I want to make a potion that gets around Dumbledore's precautions, it can't be a simple ageing potion. It needs to address any potential...failsafes."

Cedric turned to look at her. "You're a bit of a genius, aren't you?"

Wren flushed. "I haven't even decided if I'm going to make it yet."

"I don't see why not," Cedric said, pushing the parchment back over to Wren. "If you're able to make this, you'd deserve more of a shot at being Champion than me. I'm just putting my name in. I do have a question though," he said, and Wren nodded, looking down at her scribblings.

"Have you considered adding lovage?"

She shook her head.

"If you crushed it right, the effects would be harmless to the drinker, but it would sweat through…"

"And create an air of confusion around them," Wren finished, eyes widening. The aura might make it more likely for the seller to miss the fact that the twins were aged up. "That's brilliant," she complimented, adding the ingredient to her list.

"Happy to have helped," Cedric nodded at her, his eyes catching on something up front before bending over his work. "Snape's coming," he hissed.

Wren shuffled the notes between other bits of parchment under her books, pulling out her finished Potions notes and feeling a little less than certain in her impending refusal of the twins' request.

No good deed went unpunished.

That was the only possible explanation for Fred Weasley to be dropping his books next to hers right now. She was being punished for turning Thom Spiro purple. Despite the fact it was two weeks later. It seemed that karma took time.

"Don't look so excited," Fred chastised. "I've recently learned that Herbology is serious business, so I can't be helping you with your mischief."

Wren glowered, and in return, he winked at her.

“This is part of your plan isn’t it?” Wren asked, narrowing her eyes at Fred. “All that on Tuesday was so you’d get reassigned to be my partner?”

She was referencing, of course, the awful prank he had played on Anthony Hooper. Throughout the entire class Fred had continuously baited the Poulpeplant into wrapping one of its vines around Anthony’s foot so that any time he moved, it yanked him back, sending him sprawling to the ground.

It hadn't been until the end of class that Anthony caught Fred dropping bits of bait into his pants' cuff.

The class had had a laugh and ended before Professor Sprout had been able to fully lecture Fred about the dangers of messing around in Herbology.

She still had plenty of time to take away 25 points from Gryffindor, though.

“Now why would I want to be your partner? You poisoned your last one.”

“I did not!” Wren hissed. “He wasn’t my partner, and it was a light poisoning at most.” She paused, pieces clicking together. "You're here to get me to help you steal ingredients. Aren't you?"

"First off, I believe I already clarified that we aren't stealing--we're reallocating. And second, you made it very clear that obtaining ingredients wasn't part of the deal."

"It's not."

"Could be though."

"But it's not."

"You have been known to be light-fingered."

Wren glared and Fred smiled. “We have another plan for the ingredients. Getting reassigned to be your partner is but a happy accident.”

She did not believe him. "I'm not helping you get ingredients. I haven't even decided if I'll help you," Wren said.

Fred gave her a very disbelieving look and then reached over, and tugged her copy of Advanced Potions Making from her stack of books. Wren let out a noise of protest, but before she could further yell at him, he cut her off. "You don't have Potions today."

Wren reached over to grab the book back as her clear objection was ignored. "You know my schedule?"

"Of course I do. It's part of the planning," he dismissed, pulling it out of her grasp and holding it up. "Which begs the question why are you carrying this around?"

It was then that he seemed to catch sight of the parchment sticking out and slipped it out from the book.

Wren reached forward only to have Fred shove the book back in her hands. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say this looks like the makings of an age potion."

There was no point in arguing that it was for Potions. Fred was frustrating, grandstanding, and overeager, but sadly, he was not stupid.

"I wanted to see if it could even be done before I agreed to it."

"You were curious," Fred grinned, looking rather like the niffler that caught the galleon.

"I was being practical," Wren defended.

Fred shook his head. "You already knew you could make an age potion. You wanted to see if you could make the best age potion." Fred bent over the parchment. "So what's with these ingredients?"

Wren summoned the parchment back to her and it flew through Fred's fingers, rolling itself up so she could tuck it in her bag.  "I was brainstorming different ways to make the potion foolproof. Or fool sure. Adding an aura of conversion, binding it more strongly with your DNA, making the effects more permanent--"

"More permanent?" Fred asked. "Eager as I am to enter the Tournament, it's not worth losing six months of life over."

"Not permanent permanent," she corrected. "Just until your birthday."

Fred seemed less uneasy and more curious now. "Why?"

"Because Dumbledore knows we all brewed aging potions for the NEWTS."

"Honestly, I'm flattered by how intelligent you think I am, but I'm going to need you to explain more," Fred prompted.

Wren opened her mouth to explain right as Professor Sprout called the class to order. Wren shut her mouth turning to the front, listening as the professor began to explain their fertilization experiment for the day. Beside her, she could still feel Fred's eyes intensely on her, and she knew he wouldn't drop the conversation.

"What if whatever Dumbledore does to protect the judge can sense if your age changes faster than it naturally should? If the age potion were to wear off on your birthday, the change of age would seem natural. Right?" Wren whispered.

"You're a bloody genius," Fred murmured back, and Wren shook her head, her cheeks heating up. "A natural inventor."

"I'm not inventing anything. Just using theory to adapt a potion that should otherwise already work," Wren argued lightly.

"In the history books, Wren. You're gonna be in history books."

Wren shook her head and decided to give Professor Sprout her full attention.

...

Despite what Wren might have supposed, Fred had quite a knack for Herbology. Between the two of them, had managed to distract and add new fertilizer to three of the five Poulpeplants in the time it took most students in the class to get just one. Wren changed it up to Fred being both extremely distracting by nature and surprisingly nimble. Although frankly that shouldn't have been much of a surprise what with all of the pranks he pulled around the castle. Still, Wren couldn't help but admire his focus and skill.

"We make a natural team," Fred said with a grin, nudging Wren's shoulder. She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her lips turned up.

"We're just both good at Herbology," Wren dismissed.

Fred heaved a great sigh. "Oh come on, Wren. You want to help us. I can see it in you. You've practically done half of the work already."

Wren shook her head, taking up the defensive stance in front of the plant. Fred stood behind the plant, his eyes fixated on her as if he were proficient at Occlumency. Maybe it was the fear that he was that drove her to finally say, "Oh, alright, then."

A bright look of triumph flashed across Fred's face as he beamed. "Excellent. We'll negotiate the details later, but right now, you might want to hold your nose."

Wren's brow furrowed. "What?"

And then she smelled it. A putrid smell clawed up Wren's throat, choking her and turning her stomach. Quickly she backed away from the plant, flinging an arm over her nose as Fred's hand shot up. "Professor! Is the fertilizer supposed to smell like this?" his voice came out nasally due to his nose being pinched between his two fingers. Professor Sprout hurried towards them as Fred cast Wren a wink.

With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she looked under the table. A dung bomb.

"Everyone out of the greenhouse," Professor Sprout ordered, as the students made for the door, coughing and gagging. It took all of four minutes for the class to fully escape into the fresh air, fanning out on the lawn. Wren pulled in lungful after lungful of the crisp air, but the memory of the smell seemed set on her clothes.

Beside her, Fred was receiving an excellent telling off from Professor Sprout, ending with him earning himself a detention fertilizing all of the greenhouses for a week. He looked appropriately remorseful throughout the ordeal, but as Professor Sprout turned and headed towards the greenhouse to clear it out, he cast a look out of the corner of his eye to Wren.

He was a genius. A mad genius. But a genius all the same.

[legacy-wip]

Supplemental Worldbuilding: The City of Zorra

(Taken from A Guide to All Places of Importance by Dwarven writer Faldro Coalfield)

A Brief Description

Zorra, the capital and largest urban settlement in Ellonia, is without question the most significant city in the kingdom and perhaps even in all Valmora. Holding over one hundred thousand souls within its walls the city is as diverse as it is sizeable, and a better understanding of its features, districts, and layout will do any traveler good before visiting the city for the first time.

A good place to begin is the actual layout of the capital. Zorra is split into three primary sections, some of which are future divided into more specific districts. The smallest section, though undoubtedly the most impressive, is the Royal Quarter which contains the Palace of Dawn: the seat of power for the kingdom and the residence of Her Majesty Queen Leona. The Palace looms over the rest of the city from its elevated position on the northern most point of Zorra, and its layered walls offer a formidable defense before giving way to the beautifully designed golden and red stained glass that is synonymous with the throne. Dominating the skyline, the Royal Quarter is a sight that will leave a lasting impact on any soul that sees it.  

The second major section of Zorra is only somewhat larger than the first and sits between the Royal Quarter and the rest of the city. It is known as the Iron Band, both because it wraps around the palace, offering another layer of protection, and because the vast majority of the citizens within this area are smiths or soldiers of some kind. The Iron Band is made to be held even if the outer city falls, and from its more secure position it can still continue to conduct necessary military actions as well as continue the production of weapons and armor. It is a dirty, noisy, and hot place, but it offers a great service to the protection of the Crown should Zorra ever find itself under siege.

The last section of the city is by far the largest and most populated of the three. The Commons, as they are regularly referred to, is where the majority of souls dwell within Zorra. They are protected by a single outer wall that runs the exceptionally large perimeter of the city, and within the Commons multiple districts are defined. There are over two dozen unique districts within the city walls, some formally defined, and others only used colloquially, but each has its own purpose and function. A full breakdown of every district within the Commons would be impossible here, but a traveler should be aware of a few of the more prominent ones.

The Harbor: Easy enough to remember, the harbor runs nearly the entire length of the Commons along the eastern coast. Zorra rests in a good location for trade so it is regularly a lively place. Good deals can regularly be found here, if you’ve got the desire to barter. Be careful though, the harbor is a busy place and many a sailor will not take kindly to someone getting in their way. Mind where you step.  

The Exchange: Located in the heart of the Commons, the exchange is a massive market. Goods of nearly every variety can be found here if you learn to navigate it well enough. A visit to Zorra would be incomplete without at least visiting the exchange, if not for the goods themselves then for the experience of smelling a thousand aromas and hearing ten thousand mingling voices at once.

The Green: The largest park in the city, it is a thin but lengthy section that runs along the edge of the curtain wall between the Iron Band and the Commons. It is well maintained and offers a beautiful and calm respite from the crowded commotion of such a populated city. Young lovers or waxing romantics will enjoy the calm and quiet peace of the place, and the Oceanic Lookout on the eastern most edge of the park is a great place to watch the sun rise should a traveler be able to spare the time.

The South End or the “Sty”: Stay clear of this district near the southern wall, it is a hotbed for crime, unseemly actions, and unseemly souls. Many a disoriented traveler has gotten lost in the endlessly winding streets of Zorra and found themselves down in the Sty. The lucky ones come out broke. The unlucky ones don’t come out at all.

The Silver Quarter: If you need to be told what it is, you likely don’t belong there. The Silver Quarter is a fairly small but well maintained and protected section of the city that caters to the aristocracy and the otherwise excessively wealthy and elite. Fine dining, impressive mansions, and beautiful parks grace this section of Zorra. If you’re a count or a rather successful baron than you will find yourself quite at home here. Otherwise, mind your own business and leave this part of town alone, lest you anger some of the guard.

As mentioned previously, these are just a few of the districts one might find in Zorra, but they give you a good sense of the more major areas and functions of the city. A full explanation of this great settlement would require a ten-novel series, so this humble scribe suggests that one visit the city personally to fully experience all it has to offer.

That said, hopefully this brief explanation has provided you some small insight into the layout and workings of Ellonia’s capital. Zorra is without a doubt a city of unparalleled splendor and one surely worth a visit. What is more, the city also has an interesting history. For those interested in such things, I have provided a brief summary of what we know about its uncertain past below.

History

Zorra gets its name from the old tongue word meaning “New Dawn”. It is one of the, if not the, oldest permanent settlements on the continent of Valmora, and its early history is as muddled and confusing as any account from the Age of Monsters. That said, there are a few defining characteristics that historical scribes do agree on in relation to the founding and early development of the now great city.

The settlement was originally much smaller than its current size but much more heavily fortified. While modern Zorra may brag a series of two curtain walls before reaching the Palace of Dawn itself, early Zorra was even more formidable. Walls of heavy stone were cut from the nearby quarries at the base of Mt. Skybreaker and were set and fortified not only by skilled builders and laborers, but also augmented and strengthened by powerful users of the Arc. Constructed in a manner of layering and clever placement to force multiple pinch points and killing zones, these defenses were manned not only by a large number of archers and guards but also by defensive ballista and other similar heavy weapons. Some historians even claim that the walls were not only strengthen by the Arc, but themselves were imbued with it, allowing mages to syphon and use the Arc from the walls in case of a major siege. Such theories however still lack substantial evidence to be considered fact, but do show some signs of merit. (I should note that any attempt to take a piece of the ruined old wall is strictly forbidden and should NOT be attempted by any traveler.)  

Regardless of the specificities of the early defenses of Zorra, the outcome is unequivocally true: it was a fortress without equal. Modern day wisdom holds Ralguard to be the most formidable fortification in Ellonia, but by comparison Ralguard stands meager next to what Zorra would have been at its height. It was because of this strength that the old city became such an important settlement to begin with. This conclusion however raises a few new questions: Why was Old Zorra so heavily fortified to begin with? How did the small ironclad fortress of Old Zorra transform into the sprawling metropolis we know today? And what happened to the impressive fortifications that existed in its earlier years?

All three of these questions are innately tied to the nature of the Age of Monsters itself. As a quick summary for those unaware, the Age of Monsters is the first period in which we find evidence of a written record and, as the name clearly suggests, it seems to have been an incredibly dangerous time in which the monsters that now infrequently roam Valmora; Giants, Dragonkin, Darkbeasts, Arc Monstrosities, etc. were much more prominent and aggressive. Therefore, it stands to reason that all settlements in this early age of civilization, including Zorra, would need to be heavily protected in order to keep the beasts of the realm at bay. (For more information on the Age of Monsters reference my work in “Threats of the Old Age”)

Once the Age of Monsters ended however and the Great Dragon Tyrants pushed out the old monsters and established their complete dominion over Valmora in the next era, the Age of Tyrants, things changed. The great defenses of Zorra and settlements like it were seen at best by the Tyrants as useless relics of a bygone time, or, at worst, as a symbol of defensive defiance against the strength of their dominion. It should come as no surprise then that the defenses of Old Zorra were quickly brought to ruin by the powerful heat of Tyrdol’s breath. The once might walls now no more than a melted ruin.

In the aftermath of their destruction, the foundation for the city that we are familiar with today began to take root. First rebuilding around the melted ruins of the old walls, Zorra began to expand outward. Under the rule of the Great Tyrants, while all civilized people lived in fear of their terrifying overlords, at the very least there was no less fear of outside attack and less need for such drastic fortifications. Because of this, the city was able to grow to previously unseen levels. Over time the city has continued to grow, and defensive walls have been constructed and expanded to meet the needs of that growth.

After the fall of the Great Tyrants and the death of the legendary hero and self-proclaimed King Gaius the Great, Princess Carolina declared she was to be crowned queen in Zorra’s keep. From that day forward the Palace of Dawn has served as the Crown’s residence and Zorra has served as the kingdom’s capital.

Much is still to be learned about the origin of our capital city, and hopefully time and additional research will yield fruitful results. In the meantime however, we must satisfy ourselves with the information we do know, and take pride in the endurance of a city that has its roots in adversity and perseverance, a city whose history is almost as splendid as the settlement itself.

[buckybarnesbingo]

BBB Week 10 Roundup!

We’re getting closer to our first round of handing out badges!  We are keeping track of fills on our spreadsheets, and that is why it’s so important for you to add your fill information for every fill you post, everywhere you post it.

For a refresher, this is what we need every time.

Title: Collaborator(s): Link (AO3, Tumblr, Pillowfort, Dreamwidth, DeviantArt, etc.):  Square Filled (Letter AND Number AND Prompt): Ship/Main Pairing: Rating (Gen, Teen, Mature, Explicit): Major Tags/Triggers: Summary: Word Count (if applicable):

The Tumblr mod gets reeeeeeally annoyed when you leave any of this info off your post, because then she has to go searching for it.  Don’t do that to her.  It’s rude.

Now, go enjoy the fills from this week!

Title: America's Ass[Hole] Collaborator: ceealaina Link: Tumblr Square Filled: C5 - Retirement Ship: Bucky/Sam/Steve Rating: Teen Major Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops and Cafes Summary: Steve and Bucky have been together for years – and they’ve been crushing on Sam for nearly as long. Turns out all they needed to seduce him were some inappropriate comments about doughnuts, an asshole customer, and one of Steve’s famous ‘Captain America’ tirades. Word Count: 1854

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Title: End Of All Days - Chapter 15: Part XIV Collaborator: Minka Link: AO3 Square Filled: B3 – Never Again Ship: Stucky Rating: Mature Major Tags: graphic violence, PTSD Summary: Captain Steve Rogers had thought his military days were behind him, left in the bloody nightmare that was Saigon. Retired and working as a History Professor, the last thing he expected was to get caught up in a cataclysmic Slavic prophesy foreshadowing the end of the known world. With Cold War tensions running high, Steve finds himself in need of a guide and translator to get him behind the Iron Curtain and into the isolated snowdrifts of Siberia. It’s deep in the heart of Bucharest’s resistance fighters that Steve finds the ideal candidate, but swaying the enigmatic ex-operative known as The Winter Soldier proves to be complicated. Trust is hard-won, especially in the world of espionage, and with a KGB death squad nipping at his heels, the Soldier has countless reasons to stay presumably dead. As the lines between right, wrong and the supernatural begin to blur, Steve is forced to reconsider everything he’s ever believed, right from the sanctity of his own country to the very foundations of creation itself. --- Aka the Indiana Jones/Atomic Blonde lovechild of a fic that literally no one ever asked for but you’re bloody well going to get anyway. Word Count: 68,387

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Title: When We Get Out Of Hell Collaborator: seibelsays Link: AO3 Square Filled: B5 - Canon: Earth-616 Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: Team as Family, Bucky Barnes Recovering Summary: Bucky promised his friends that when the war was over, they would celebrate. Word Count: 2131

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Title: Art for The Winter Witcher Collaborator: feignedsobriquet Link: Tumblr Square Filled:  K4 - AU: Fantasy World Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: art Summary: fanart for 27dragons and tisfan’s Winter Witcher

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Title: a day of fun with bucky and clint Collaborator: jurassicworjd Link: AO3 Square Filled: B3 - Shopping Together Ship: WinterHawk Rating: Gen Major Tags: slight swearing Summary: Steve thinks Bucky should socialize more, which somehow leads to Clint dragging Bucky out of the tower for a shopping trip. Word Count: 2575

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Title: Date Night Collaborator: squadrickchestopher Link: AO3 Square Filled: Kink: Lingerie Ship: WinterHawk Rating: Explicit Major Tags: explicit sexual content Summary: Clint doesn’t answer. He’s staring at Bucky’s legs, clad in dark stockings. As Bucky watches, he sinks to his knees and reverently reaches out, running a hand up Bucky’s calf. He skims over the garter belt straps, over to where they disappear under the purple panties, all the way up to where the straps attach to the lace part of the camisole. His thumb smooths over one of the little purple bows and he swallows roughly, the movement of his throat visible in the dim light of the kitchen. “Baby,” he finally says, voice faint. He looks up at Bucky’s face. “Did you wear all this for me?” Word Count: 8610

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Title: Retirement Farm Collaborator: writing-what-writing Link: Tumblr Square Filled: C4 - retirement Ship: Stucky Rating: Gen Major Tags: none Summary: Bucky retires from avenging and starts a farm Word Count: 1477

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Title: You’re the only place that feels like home - Chapter 1: Of all the things I´ve lost, I miss my mind the most Collaborator: LilMissAwesome Link: AO3 Square Filled: B5 - AU: No Powers Ship: WinterIron Rating: Not Rated Major Tags: ABO Summary: Due to a new law, that doesn´t allow Omegas to sign contracts anymore, Tony Stark finds himself in the need of an Alpha roommate - with emphasis on the "mate" part. Lucky for him that Bucky Barnes is also looking for a place to stay... Word Count: 1372

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Title: Poker Night at the Casino Collaborator: rebelmeg Link: Tumblr Square Filled: U3 - poker night Ship: Tony & Bucky Rating: Gen Major Tags: moodboard, gambling Summary: poker moodboard

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Title: What About Us? - Chapter 2 Collaborator: pherryt Link: AO3 Square Filled: B2 - Sex Friends Ship: WinterHawk Rating: Explicit Major Tags: A/B/O dynamics, Alpha x Alpha Summary: It’s the morning after and Bucky wasn’t expecting this. Word Count: 4006

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Title: Man On Man Collaborator: grimeysociety Link: AO3 Square Filled: K1 - Kink: Oral Sex Ship: Stucky Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Brief Mention ofPeriod-Typical Homophobia Summary: They’d been kissing for only a few days, it still felt new, but he’d thought about it often enough, memories coming up from the recesses of his mind, and he’d drool – honest to God drool – thinking about what he wanted Steve to do to him. Word Count: 1155

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Title: The Name You Gave Me - Chapter 1: The Beginning Collaborator: fightingforcreativity, rebelmeg Link: AO3 Squares Filled: C5 - Mind Control/ Brainwashing (fightingforcreativity) B5 - scars (rebelmeg) Ship: Bucky & Natasha Rating: Mature Major Tags: Hydra, Red Room, brainwashing, trauma, child abuse Summary: The Asset has been here before. He knows because they don’t keep their words to themselves. But there are other signs as well. Like the cowering children and the red-haired girl that looks at him like she knows him. Word Count: 931

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Title: you don't want to fool around; you just want to lie in my arms Collaborator: flintrage Link: AO3 Square Filled: U3 - Takeout / Pizza. Ship: Teen Rating: Stucky Major Tags: fluff Summary:  Sometimes one of you doesn't feel like fucking, and that's okay. You can make feet jokes and order pizza instead, and be just as happy. Word Count: 391

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Title: the gods think differently from us Collaborator: flintrage Link: AO3 Square Filled: U1 - Team Dynamics Ship: None Rating: Gen Major Tags: not Loki positive Summary: People on the internet seem to think Loki would make a good addition to the Avengers. The Avengers disagree. Word Count: 305

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Title: There are angels, and then there are ANGELS Collaborator: flintrage Link: AO3 Square Filled:  C4 - “Dyin’ ain’t so bad.” Ship: None Rating: Teen Major Tags: near death experience Summary: Bucky almost dies. A pair of angels stop it from happening. Word Count: 443

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Title: The Name You Gave Me - Chapter 3: A Taste Of Freedom Collaborator: rebelmeg Link: AO3 Square Filled: B2 - Asset on the loose Ship: Bucky & Natasha Rating: Mature Major Tags: Hydra, Red Room, brainwashing, trauma, child abuse Summary:  One last demonstration for the Winter Soldier's pupils goes horribly wrong. Freedom is so close, for both of them. Natalia had planned it all, and the As—no, Yasha, had just followed her call. Word Count: 3388

[mrwinterr]

The Consequence [4]

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Pairing: Charles Blackwood x Female Reader

Summary: The reader is in search of Charles Blackwood as he’s been missing for several days and not once considering the warning that no good ever comes from being associated with a Blackwood.

Warnings: We Have Always Lived in the Castle spoilers (book and film). Smut (unprotected sex, anal sex, vaginal fingering, oral [female receiving], cum stuff - yeah, I said that), attempted dirty talk and language. Semi/non-canon elements to the original story. 

*Chapter 4 Warning: I’m not fluent in Italian, so I used Google Translate and various articles to see which were the most commonly used structure for the words and phrases mentioned in this chapter. The smut starts right under the gif and it’s the smuttiest thing I’ve written to date. 

Title Inspiration: “The Consequence” by You Me At Six

Disclaimer: There are characters, dialogue and references from the actual book and film, We Have Always Lived in the Castle. They belong to the author and I take no credit for any of these elements. 

A/N: I had the majority of this chapter written since September and that was also the month I had begun my "big girl job”...thus the downward spiral of my fanfic life. Whatever. I got really carried away in this chapter. Comments, feedback, questions, etc. – all welcomed here! 

P R E S E N T

In exchange for the sisters’ kindness, you offered to help them tidy up the house and fix things you could. This was probably one of the few times you were thankful your father had pushed household work on you since it allowed for you to move through the home effectively. You weren’t sure how long you were planning on staying there and the longer you did, the more you were separated from Charles, but what you did know was that these two had to have held the answers on where he was. You had to get on their good side. You just needed to buy more time.  

Your first full week at the house went well. Constance was very easy to get along with, perhaps a bit overbearing and naïve at times, but nonetheless very kind. One would never suspect she was accused of murder in the past. She was more than enthused to find someone who was just as acquainted with the kitchen than she was. Her bright attitude actually allowed you to enjoy yourself for a moment doing these things. On the other hand, Merricat kept to herself a lot. She wasn’t as accepting or open like her older sister. You decided to limit interaction with her for a while.

Earlier that day, while you were preparing to bake gingerbread cookies with Constance, you noticed a few missing essential ingredients such as sugar, so you had offered to go back into the village to pick some up along with a few other items and necessities. The amount of money Constance handed to you made your eyes bulge, only confirming the rumor that you heard when you arrived that this family was indeed loaded.

It was nice to get out of the castle-like house after being coped up in it for days. They didn’t even own a phone, so you thought about ringinng your friend should you find the time. On the route to the market, you got sidetracked and gawked at a nice dress through the window of a small pop-up shop.

The day was still young, so you decided to walk in and browse at the store’s collection. The pastel colored dresses of the Spring collection had you wanting to try them on. The longer you spent looking through the racks of clothing, your mind wandered to a particular dress you haven’t been able to try on. You were supposed to be searching for your perfect wedding dress with your friend soon, but here you were a few towns over trying to find your missing fiancé. You weren’t going to lie; it stung a bit thinking about your wedding plans being halted for the time being. Your thoughts were then broken by a woman’s voice, “that dress would look gorgeous on you, dear.”

You slightly shook your head and realized you had part of the dress you were admiring still in your grasp. To anyone else in the store, you’d looked as if you were examining it rather than lost in thought. Quick to recover, you looked over to give the elderly woman a polite smile, “oh, I was just looking, but you know these things only look good on the display,” you replied playing down the compliment.

“Oh, nonsense! I can tell you possess a different kind of stature from most woman,” she commented back. You weren’t sure what to reply with. She didn’t seem to take your silence as a negative thing before she introduced herself as Helen Clarke and continued to speak, “I haven’t seen you around here. Are you new?” She had a loud voice and was straightforward.

“I’m just passing by,” you said once you told her your name, keeping it short.

“That’s lovely. How are you liking it in our little village?” Oh, she was chatty, you thought to yourself.

“It’s nice,” you lied through your teeth. Aside from Stella, a lot of the people here were hostile, gossiped way too much or were a bit full of themselves. They made the most two hated people of the village, Constance and Merricat, seem as if they were the more tolerable ones. You couldn’t wait to find Charles so you could leave this crazy town and head back home.  

“Yes, it has its charm, does it? Say, I know the woman who owns this shop, would you like for me to get someone to help you try on that dress?” She was overly enthused and helpful as you shook your head, placing the dress back on the rack and quickly wanting to leave the shop.

“No, no. It’s alright. I must be going on my way to the market then back up on the hill before it gets dark,” you franticly tried to excuse yourself out of the situation but didn’t realize you spewed out too much information.

“Up on the hill?” She asked, as you also noted the volume of her voice had lowered, “you’re staying in the Blackwood house?” You eyed her warily before slowly nodding. “How are they? The girls. Are they safe? I’ve been trying to see if they’re okay, but poor things must be shaken from that night of the fire.”

You assured her that they were fine, but she didn’t stop talking, “I’ve been trying so hard to get Constance to return to the village after all she’s been through, but it seems I’ll never be able to help her.” You could tell that she wanted to help Constance and didn’t listen to the gossip about her, “she’s a lovely one and doesn’t deserve to be coped up in that house.” You silently agreed not knowing what else to say or do.

“I better get going,” you said trying to escape this conversation.

“Yes, I suppose I’ve kept you long enough. It was a pleasure to meet you, sweetheart. I hope to see you around. Please send my best regards to the girls,” she requested before you bid Helen goodbye, finally exiting the shop to continue your trek to the market.

After retrieving everything on your list, you phoned your friend and briefed her that you would be staying a few more days. You didn’t let on with too many details on where you were staying, concerned that she would come and drag you out of this village herself. You could just feel that the answers you needed were on the Blackwood property.

When you arrived back at the house, you assisted Constance in preparing dinner and soon you both dived into a topic about more recipes and gardening. It wasn’t really your forte, but you had to work with what you were given with. It was always slightly alarming when Merricat approached the two of you. She had a habit of just walking up quietly that it was kind of eerie, however you considered the result of her upbringing and adjusted to it.

As the three of you sat eating, Constance noticed the gold bracelet lined with tiny pearls wrapped around your wrist, “that’s a beautiful bracelet,” she pointed out.

You looked down to the jewelry on your wrist and smiled. The bracelet had been a gift from Charles. He loved to spoil you and who were you to deny him? “Oh, thank you,” you replied, holding the wrist the bracelet was on close to your chest, “it’s from Venice,” you beamed at the history of your bracelet.

“Italy?” Constance’s eyes widened as you nodded just as enthusiastic as she was in response. You adored Italy especially the last time you were there. You began to recount your trip to her including visiting the St. Mark’s Basilica, experiencing a ride on a gondola and walking alongside the many canals and bridges to admire the architecture. Your trip really piqued her interest.

“You should visit someday!” You encouraged her. Surely, with the amount of money she tried to shove at you earlier that day, they could afford a trip to Europe.

Constance flushed at the thought of exploring a new place, but you soon noticed a sense of sadness draped over her when she mentioned not even being able to barely step farther than her garden, especially not after recent events.

Trying to steer the conversation away from awkwardness, you decided to talk about the pop-up shop from earlier. You mentioned the many gorgeous dresses and accessories that would no doubt look great on Constance. She blushed at your words and shook her head trying to stay humble. You were really starting to feel bad that she felt she had to be coped up in this house in order to survive.

“How about you come with me next time?” You suggested trying to convince her to consider going back into the village, “you won’t be alone. We can both try on all the different dresses and then after find a nice place to eat; a little girl’s night out.” The least she could do was live a little and what better way than with retail therapy, right? “It’ll be fun! I’ll make sure nothing happens-“ you continued but your campaign was caught off.

“Amanita Phalloides contains three poisons: mushroom amanitin, which is slow but potent…“ Merricat started reciting. You looked back and forth between the sisters and realized what was happening. She was trying to change the subject. She probably felt threatened that something as simple as getting Constance to break out of her shell would disrupt their lives. “…phalloidin, which attacks the liver and kidneys and-,” Merricat attempted to continue until she was interrupted.

Surprising the sisters, you jumped in, “phallin, which dissolves red corpuscles although it is the least potent.” You noticed she stopped speaking all-together when your voices merged, her head snapped to your direction, but that didn’t stop you from continuing, “the first symptoms do not appear until seven to twelve hours after eating.” Your knowledge of the death cup mushroom seemed to catch her off guard and it made you feel good like beating someone at their own game. Neither sister said anything once you were done, but their gazes remained fixed on you. “It’s good to be aware of these things,” you said with a slight smug on your face before going back to finishing your meal.

That night in the room you were staying, you let out a sigh as you lied in bed. You draped your right arm over your eyes, but when the cool material of your bracelet hit your face, you lifted your arm to stare at the piece of jewelry you hadn’t taken off. Your left hand started absentmindedly tracing it until your eyes traveled to your engagement ring. They were beautiful indeed, but they were also reminders of your fiancé and you were really missing him. You almost slipped Charles’ name earlier when recalling the trip to Venice, in fact, you had to catch yourself a lot from mentioning his name as each day passed. He never left your mind. Before you dozed off you decided to replay the full details of that trip. It was the most heavenly yet sinful time of your life.

P A S T

It was your first visit out of the country and you were like a kid in a candy store. Charles was amused by you, but you didn’t care. You’d always dreamed about going to Italy even as far as wanting to settle here. There was so much to venture to, you both were lost in an endless maze of beauty, culture and history, and each other.

After a long day of touring the city, the both of you decided to cool down in the oversized tub inside the bathroom of the lavish hotel room. Charles reading something as you sat opposite of him at the other end of the tub, jotting things in your small notebook he’d gifted to you on your past birthday. This city gave you a lot of inspiration. There was a small window that overlooked the wondrous city while also at a level of decency to allow privacy for the occupant. Bathing together wasn’t something new, seeing as how intimate you both had become over the years.

You set your stuff aside and watched Charles turn the pages of what he was reading while occasionally whistling to a random tune. You took this opportunity to soak in the water, sinking in, closing your eyes and resting your head on the edge of the tub. That was proven to be short-lived as you felt Charles hands skim along your calves. Your eyes fluttered opened and you slid your body up slightly to look at him.

Charles’ hand reached across him, grabbing one of yours to pull you forward in his direction. A devious smile sprawled on his face when you chose to straddle him for a comfortable position. Arms wrapped his neck and legs on either side of him, Charles’ hands dipped in and out of the water as they ran up and down your back. His hair was slicked back from being wet and yours was loosely made up, some strands not cooperating in place and wet at the ends. He pulled you in by the nape of your neck to him so his lips could finally claim your own.

His hands snaked their way around to your breasts to grope them causing you to moan in response. He knew how to get you going with and without foreplay. You started to rock your hips and rub your pussy on his hardening cock. He detached his lips from yours to suck in a harsh breath at the feeling. He just couldn’t wait to get inside and feel you. Quite frankly you couldn’t wait for that either, so you didn’t. You raised yourself up a bit and gripped his cock. Without breaking eye contact, you slowly sink down his hard length, the both of you groaning at the feeling of him stretching you the deeper he slipped inside. You took his cock so well and he absolutely thrived on it. His hands settled on your hips to help guide you up and down until you found your own rhythm.  

“You’re so sexy,” he said breathlessly as his hands left your hips to do their own thing and instead gripped the edge of the tub, watching you ride him. You placed a hand on his strong chest while the other was loosely wrapped around his neck as you brought your lips down on his, tongues not hesitating to dart into each other’s mouths. Your hand slipped down his chest and into the water to reach down behind you and cup his balls, palming them. “Oh my…fuck,” Charles growled against your lips. You took his bottom lip between your teeth and grounded harder on him. He was so deep; you let out a moan each time you felt the hairs on his lower abdomen rub against your clit that only layered thick onto the feeling brewing in your lower region.

At some point, his hands regained purchase on your body and started to buck his hips upwards to add onto the work. His movements were so fast, it was your turn to hold onto the sides of the tub for some stability. Each thrust sent a new wave of pleasure through you that you almost found it hard to catch your breath. You thought you might as well be drowning in this tub as he brought his mouth to one of your nipples while the other was being taken care of by his skilled fingers.

You watched as strands of his hair fell out of place, him bite his lip and eyes squeezing shut. It was a tall-tale sign that he was close to coming. The sight of your orgasm racking through your body and its effect on him, the way your eyes glossed from the pleasure, lips parted to let out inaudible gasps, chest heavily rising from trying to catch your breath, legs quivering, and your pussy clenching tight around his throbbing member, were your tall-tale signs for him and things that didn’t make it hard for him to follow you into total euphoria.

You grabbed his face in your hands and slammed your lips to his once more as you felt his cum continue to shoot through inside of you repeatedly. The movements slowed down, but didn’t stop because it felt so good, the warmth provided to each other, you both didn’t want it to end there. All that could be heard was water sloshing and the faint noises of the city outside mixed with each of your uncontrollable pants. There was no self-control whenever you both lost yourselves in each other.

Walking along the cobblestoned pavements, footsteps echoing, you started to reflect how happy you felt. There were no worries, and no one here judged you. It was a busy city packed full of people, but the only person that stood out to you was the man holding your hand. You looked down at your hands clasped together and a faint smile made its way on across your face when you looked at the new accessory adorned your wrist.

Sometime during the day, Charles stepped away from you to speak to a native of the city in Italian asking for directions. As much as you loved to hear him speak in a different language, your eyes wandered at the many shops along the strip. A sparkling display caught your attention as you started gravitating towards the jewelry in a window of a store that sounded like it was out of your budget. You weren’t sure how long you were admiring the piece until you felt Charles’ hand at the small of your back, breaking your trance. You tried to convince him you were only looking, even though you thought it was one of the most gorgeous pieces of jewelry you’ve ever seen. You didn’t even wear much jewelry either because nothing like this was as dazzling back at home or you definitely couldn’t afford it. He reiterated that he wanted to spoil you as if this trip wasn’t enough. He gave you everything.

The city was just as breathtaking in the night than it was in the day. From the top of the balcony of your hotel room, you overlooked the people whose nights were just beginning, the streets and the gondolas that were slowly drifting in the water, which seemed to sparkle casted by the golden glow illuminating from the streetlamps. The cool breeze swept your hair away from your shoulders exposing your neck and causing you to slightly shiver as you stood there in a long white backless dress. The trip was nearing its end and Charles had taken you to an elegant restaurant that you couldn’t read the menu to, so Charles took care of everything.

You instantly warmed up when Charles encased your body with his arms snaking around your waist before settling on each side of your hips and pressing his body against your back. Your hair blown aside from the wind allowed him easy access to plant a kiss behind your ear. The action stirred a small tingle in you. The response tightened his grip when he felt you involuntarily shiver with each contact his lips made on your skin. He progressively started to lick and nip at your ear lobe before kissing a trail down along your neck. You leaned into his body, head cocked to the side and thrown back to rest on his shoulder, providing him full access, your hands grasping onto his forearms for some stability as you slowly started to unravel for him.

Charles then spun you around to face him, “you’re so lovely,” he said just audible for the both of you to hear as he stared at you. You wanted to melt in his hands as he ran them down your exposed back. He leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your lips. It held a much deeper emotion to it, but you didn’t linger on to that thought too long as he pulled away from you too soon for your liking. He chuckled lightly at your eagerness and brought a hand up to cradle your face. When you opened your eyes to look at him, like always, you found yourself lost in sea.

“You’re it for me, baby,” he said before one of his hands reached down his pocket to produce a small, black velvet box. They said your life flashes before your eyes when you die, but can the same be said for love? Because the last few years with Charles flashed before yours as you stared at his hands opening the box to reveal a generous sized ring. Was he it for you?

This was a man who appeared out of nowhere in your life during one of your breakdowns, enlightened a whole new vision and version of yourself that you didn’t think was inside of you, including developing a sense of confidence and thick skin. You came to the conclusion that if you died and your life did flash before your eyes, you definitely wanted Charles to consume and star in it.

You didn’t let Charles finish whatever speech he put together before you pulled him in for a kiss. A kiss that embodied the unique bond, exploding throughout both your bodies. When you pulled away, you watched as he let out another chuckle, licking his lips before speaking, “so is that a yes?” You playfully rolled your eyes at him and confirmed your acceptance. After he slipped the ring on your finger, you raised your hand to examine it. You weren’t admiring its size, shape or beauty, but what it represented. He was everything.

The last day in Venice started out quite interestingly and would become unforgettable. No doubt you and Charles spent the night before continuing to celebrate the first step to your promises of spending forever with each other. You were spent to say the least. Your body felt heavy as you lied lazily on your stomach, arms tucked under the pillow your face was buried into. Unbeknownst to you, the white bed sheet that covered your body began to slide down, exposing you and then seemed to stop just below your lower back.

If the cool temperature of the room didn’t stir you awake, it was the set of warm lips that were leaving wet trails down your spine. A pair of strong hands on either side of your body started to make their way up from your waist, along your ribcage, brushing the sides of your breasts and back down. You let out a tired noise, not exactly ready to get up.

A tolerable amount of weight was placed on top of you, slightly sinking you deeper into the mattress, but enough to let you breathe. Hands traced your arms underneath the pillow your head rested on before fingers intertwined with yours. You peaked one eye open just in time for your new fiancé to place a kiss on your cheek, down any patch of skin visible to him, from your neck and between your shoulder blades.

Charles started to slowly shift his body up and down along your ass through the sheets and hitting the skin of your lower back that wasn’t covered, allowing you to feel his stiff member. Even between the sheets, the friction the threads created between the two of you felt just as good. It gave off some sense of thrill knowing what’s to come soon. You focused on how his breathing started to increase the more he started to ground his hips into you.

“Mmm…baby,” you whined when a particular thrust was noticeably harder than the previous ones. The sharp movement had you involuntarily squeezing his hands in yours and your hips retaliating by bucking back up to meet his.

You heard him hiss at your sudden reaction and release your hands. The next thing you knew, warmth had left you momentarily as he sat up. Before you could turn over and see where he went, your head left the pillow as you got dragged to the center of the bed, lower body hoisted up. You were now bent over, ass in the air, the bed sheet gracefully falling down to your bent knees that were dug into the mattress. Charles ran his hands along the sides of your thighs before settling on top and grabbing a handful of your flesh in each of his palms. He wedges one of thighs in between your legs to knock them apart, enough to give him room to work with.

Those lips that left wet tracks along your spine earlier were now leaving scattered nips and kisses on your ass, while one of his hands snaked its way around one of your thighs to the front and stopped at your clit. Slow small circles and the combination of soft kisses, this tender side of him was always refreshing and you knew it wouldn’t last, so you tried to bask in this moment.

Then you felt the familiar structure of his face pressed between your cheeks and Charles poked his tongue out to lick a strip between your folds. It didn’t take long for him to buildup on his routine of fucking you with his tongue. He continued to rub harsher circles on your now sensitive and soaking bud and the hand, that was helping you stay balanced on your knees from giving out due to the immense pleasure you were feeling, left its place, only for Charles to insert a finger inside you – his tongue and digit taking turns in you. You gasped when he took it upon himself to insert another finger and experimentally spread apart inside you.

“Fuck, babe. I can’t believe how tight you are,” he groaned as he attempted once more at a scissoring motion inside your pussy, marveling at the sight of stretching you out.

His hands were doing quite a number, you started to feel your arousal sliding down your thighs and sweat gathering on your forehead. “…mmm, but you’re always tight, aren’t you?” His voice now laced with a huskier tone, “no matter how many times I stuff my big cock in this pussy,” his words egging you on while he also nipped at your inner thighs.

The bed shifted as Charles sat back up, his bare cock now settled between your ass. He started to slide his hot, hardened member much like he did several minutes ago, but this time nothing was between the two of you. You could now perfectly feel every ridge and vein rubbed up against you mixed with the pre-come that collected itself on its tip. Charles bent down to nip at your ear lobe that wasn’t pressed against the mattress and started to encourage you to chase your orgasm.

His fingers hadn’t left your clit, but the rhythm grew very relentless, and you knew you were going to be feeling its bruising effect later on. Your thighs began twitching the moment you finally reached a peak that erupted, breathing labored and fistfuls of white linen now in your tight grasps.

Charles whispered soft praises in your ear and started kissing another path down your spine. Your lower body was about to finally give out until he caught your hips and kept them steady. You let out a small wince of pain as the skin of your knees started to burn and become slightly sore from being dug into the sheets too long.

You could hear the wet sounds as Charles fisted his cock, coating it with your juices that soaked his hand. He dragged his heavy member though your folds, gathering more wetness and you braced yourself for the next intrusion, but then you felt him linger and slide against the ring of tight muscle, the tip slightly grazing it. He’s only once attempted entry in your backside, and surprisingly he didn’t even put up much of a fight for it back then, so this set an alarm off in you.

“What-“ you tried to sit up on your elbows and speak up, but you couldn’t. You were vulnerable, wrecked and weak, as if your body unwillingly surrendered to him.

You face planted back onto the mattress as Charles pushed you back down roughly onto it with one hand and then resumed his task, “you trust me, right, baby?” you heard him speak from behind. Your heart started racing. You weren’t sure if you were ready for that. Then you thought back to the first night with him and the small amount of insecurity you harbored resurfaced. The familiar question of trust and fear of losing him. You turned your head to the side and you squinted as you stared at the ring that sparkled harshly from the ray of sunlight that peaked through the crack of the curtains. He just chose to spend the rest of his life with you, but you sold yourself to Charles a long time ago.  

You nodded against the bed, but that didn’t seem to suffice for Charles because the next thing you felt was a sharp pain run through your scalp as he grabbed a fistful of your hair in his hand, neck snapping back to pull your head up.

“No, I need to hear you say it,” he demanded.

You braced your palms in front of you to help support your body in this position before responding to him, “I-I trust you, Charles.”

“You want this,” he stated and you could feel the tip right at your hole.

“I do. I do want this. I want you, Charles,” you confirmed before letting out a low groan.

It was all he needed as he slowly inched the thick bulbous head of his cock inside you. Charles let out a straggled groan at how incredibly tight this entry was. You tried to put on a brave act, but the pain had you second guessing all too quickly.

“Ch-Charles, it’s not gonna fit, baby, st-“ you struggled to speak.

“Shh, baby girl. Yes, it will,” he was quick to cut you off before you could tell him to stop as he tried assuring you while continuing to push his cock all the way in. Wanting to please him, you toughed it out and waited for the initial pain to pass through. It would be worth it in the end.

A new sensation started to bubble up inside of you. It was rather conflicting because on one side you felt as if you were being ripped apart and then the other pleasure began to consume you. Charles filled you and he filled you up really good.

With a quick snap of his hips, he fully bottomed out. You let out a loud yelp from the stinging feeling of his forceful action. His grip still in your hair, he started to build up a rhythm - fast. You hardly had any time to adjust to this new position, but he wouldn’t deliberately cause you any pain, right? The truth was it did hurt at first, but soon enough that sensation that was brewing in your lower abdomen started to boil with each shallow thrust and you were about ready to burst.  

Your head was swimming as he left sloppy kisses to your tear stained cheeks. At some point, your eyes began to water from the pain and pleasure. Your mouth hung wide open and eyes half-lidded, you struggled to keep them trained on him. A particular thrust whipped out a wanton moan out of you, signifying you were enjoying this, and Charles laughed. He was actually laughing at you.

“Ragazza sporca,” he said more to himself. Dirty girl. You were his dirty girl, alright.

You didn’t know what he said, but you still heard him. Your body began to slump forward and he let go of your hair. That now free hand found its way back to the bundle of nerves of your sensitive clit. You were moaning uncontrollably and that boosted his ego. All that could be heard throughout the room was a remix of moans, a faint squelching wet noise and skin slapping.

You let out a small cry when the built-up sensation in you just snapped. The juices from your orgasm started cascading down your thighs, leaving a damp spot on the bed. Charles wasn’t that far behind. It came as a surprise when he pulled out, leaving you gaping and quickly flipped you over onto your back before finally releasing streams of his warm cum onto your stomach even projecting as far as towards your breasts and neck.

“Fotter mi,” Charles said breathlessly while admiring the mess he made upon you. Fuck me. He plopped down on the spot next to you and gawked at your sated form, chest rising and his cum sliding down the curves of your body, “mi fai impazzire,” he commented. You make me crazy.

After a couple of minutes, Charles got up to retrieve a washcloth and hastily cleaned you up for now. He brought the sheet back up to cover your bare bodies and lied down behind you. His hands rested right below your breast with your own smaller ones trying to encase them and his head nestled in the crook of your neck, where he lulled you to rest with litters of sweet kisses, but before you dozed off again you heard him say one last thing, “baby, you and I have many plans to make when we get back home.”

P R E S E N T

You weren’t really sure if those plans were already set in motion or going to happen or what he was exactly even talking about as you sat down at the front steps of the house. You were taking a small break after trying to help clear out the front yard of the destroyed furniture and other objects.

The sisters didn’t seem to want to do it or it was the last thing on their list – most likely having to do with the fear of being caught by someone from the village, so you took it upon yourself. Besides it allowed you to come out and get some fresh air as you couldn’t understand being coped up in this big house for that long.

A slight movement within your distance suddenly broke your thoughts. You squinted to try and get a better look, but what you weren’t anticipating was it be a cat. A black cat was sitting a few feet away from you, staring at you. You started coaxing the cat to you, believing he was a stray. The cat slowly walked in your direction but stopped before studying you.

“Here, kitty,” you continued to allure the cat to you, “I won’t hurt you.” He ultimately was convinced and hopped onto your lap. You let out a small chuckle and smiled as the cat snuggled close to you, “you’re a handsome cat, aren’t you?” you said returning his affection.

Constance’s voice calling out to you pulled your attention away from the feline. You stood up, the cat still in your arms, and before you stepped back inside the house you stopped to think if it was okay to bring an animal inside. Were the sisters allergic to cats? Constance’s insistent request for you didn’t allow you to think too long and you decided to just bring the cat with you. You met Constance in the kitchen and stood a little weary, a bit anxious to see her response to you bringing in an unknown animal into her home.

“There you are! I wanted to ask if you can help with preparing…,” Constance started but once her eyes landed on the cat in your arms, she lost her train of thought. You started petting the cat to keep him calm and waited to see what Constance’s next reaction would be. “Oh, you’ve found Jonas,” she said with a smile now on her face.

“Jonas?” You inquired. She knew this cat.

“Yes, he belongs to Merricat,” she explained, “we haven’t seen him in a few days. Oh, will Merricat be delighted to see him.” 

“Jonas,” you said with more sound, now knowing what to call him.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Merricat from the other room, avoiding your gazes as she tried to quickly walk past the kitchen until she was caught by Constance, who called out to her.

“Oh, Merricat! Come here! We have a wonderful surprise for you!” She boasted.

You heard Merricat’s footsteps draw near and when you turned around to face her, she stopped and stared at Jonas in your arms. She had that same blank look on her face but with a bit more sense of shock surrounding her aura. She must be very protective of Jonas.

You extended your arms out a little to offer her cat back to her. She began to reach out for him, and you took notice of the dirt embedded deep in her fingernails. 

Was she digging something? 

Nonetheless, she quietly thanked you as she started petting Jonas. You gave her a small smile, believing maybe she was finally warming up to you.

Later that night, you were frantically digging through your suitcase in search for your notebook. It was your current notebook, the latest on that Charles gifted to you and the one you were writing in the day before he left. Clothes scattered the floor, toiletries and accessories shoved off and knocked over on the dresser and pillows and blankets all in disarray. Moisture began to build up and cloud your vision, but it wasn’t deterring you from panicking on your notebook’s whereabout.

You plopped down on the bed and heavily sighed in defeat. You could’ve sworn you’d packed it in your bag and taken it with you. It contained a lot of personal anecdotes of you and Charles and other random photos, works or drawings. 

Your life was in that journal. It wasn’t with you and if that wasn’t you, Charles’ absence only felt even stronger.

You just wanted to go home now.

A/N: Well, you survived this chapter. I have the last two planned out, but nothings actually written yet since I’m literally married to my job. 

[ask-thefiftystatesofamerica]

Can we have more background on America's upbringing, his birth, etc?

ohoho anon hope you’re ready for a frickin rant cuz there’s sure is a lot to say! XD 

Without further ado, here’s a pic of the legit infant of the family with summaries of each era under the cut! If you seek more info/drama, pls send in additional asks or fic requests. 💛💛

American Revolution (age 0-5)

July 4th, 1776.

The 13 original colonies gathered in Philadelphia along with their delegates and signed their breakup letter to England. And on that fateful day, they accidentally created America, a representation of the Original 13′s Alliance/Union. 

Baby America played little to no role in the early stages of his life. After all, he was just a fragile newborn who didn’t know how to protect himself. So the Original 13 Colonies fought the American Revolution in his place, leading, spying, negotiating, while baby America fled from the ever approaching frontline with the rest of the Continental Congress. There’s limited to no emotional connection between the states and America during the war, as they’re all too busy not to get killed to sit down and bond.

After the revolution, the original 13, freed from their father nation, are left to govern themselves all while raising a child–a blank canvas of a country they can shape into whatever magnificent and enlightened paradise their mind could dream of. The only problem is, no one could agree on what ‘a great nation’ stood for in terms of specific policies.

The endless chaotic debates and disunity between his semi-autonomous states nearly tore America apart as the boy sat helplessly in growing despair without any power to do anything. Being the literal baby that he was, America’s fate rested entirely in the hands of those who were ‘older’ and ‘wiser.’ 

The Era of Good Feelings (5-8)

With the end of the War of 1812, the divisive nation-building process finally came to a conclusion. 

America and its states entered a time of unity and single-party rule by the Democratic-Republicans. Europe was going up in flames with this dude called Napoleon, so all the foreign superpowers weren’t here to bully America either! 

This was the happy and peaceful section of America’s childhood. 

America lived with (and was raised by) Maryland and Virginia. As their endless bickering drew to a close, baby America finally began to gain love and attention from the rest of his states as well. They taught him about science, history, and enlightenment ideals. They ruffled his hair and filled his head with dreams, reassuring the boy that he’s destined for greatness; while others like Rhode Island took the time to warn the boy about the darker truth of the world and the curse of immortality. 

A lot of problems were swept under the rugs during the Era of Good Feelings, and America himself was still largely powerless compared to the states, but this era is where most emotional bonding happened between the states and America, and where the most fluffy one-shots starring baby America are set.

Civil War (8-12)

The Civil War is when America first learned how to put his foot down and assume his role as the states’ sovereign nation, their rightful leader, instead of a mere child they can push around.

The Civil War Era somewhat resembled the initial nation-building process in many ways. Screaming matches, divisive fights, devastating disasters spiraling out of control. Only this time, America said enough is enough, and he did what it took to make himself heard. He fought uncompromisingly to end slavery and bring the union back together, and to do so America didn’t hesitate to blatantly seize power from the remaining states and people in an almost Machiavellian fashion.

America experienced war for the first time here. Though he didn’t directly fight on the battlefield, the boy’s exposed to the grim toll that came with war and all the hard decisions to be made. America aged rapidly throughout the war and lost a lot of his naivety with each battle, growing into the mold of a cunning superpower by the hour. 

When the war ends, the soft and simple-minded baby America will be gone.

Gilded Age (13-16)

In a lot of ways, the states are Alfred’s moral compass. The more detached he is from his constituents, the more America becomes consumed by his own ambitions and desires.

The Gilded Age is a prime example of this.

Following the Civil War and Reconstruction, America had pretty much solidified his position as the head of his states. And since a majority of the states were still trying to deal with their own heartbreaks and aftermath of the Civil War, no one really kept track of this young nation.

And so, America began to explore and expand his power. Politically, geographically, and economically. He got more land, industries boomed, and waves of migrants entered the borders. America pillaged and annexed like an European Imperial superpower; he allowed monopolies and political machines to run rampant with corruption and exploitation of the working class in the name of laissez-faire; he became wealthy, influential and powerful at the expense of millions. 

This era most certainly lived up to its name. Gilded. Awful and twisted beneath a thin layer of shining golden paint of prosperity.

Progressive Era (14-16)

Like we said on previous posts, America had a dark history that cannot be excused, but he is still capable of changing for the better with the right guidance and discipline. In essence, this era took place after the states and his people alike finally began to slap some sense of reason and morality back into America’s skull. 

A lot of this time frame overlapped with the Gilded Age because change came very slowly. It’s not like this one sunny day America just woke up and declared hmmm I guess I’m not gonna be a bitch today. Nah, dude. It took a lot of time and effort to get America back on the right track. 

During the progressive era, America began to realize how objectively shitty his actions were and tried his best to amend it. He began to break down monopolies and give the working class more political power and bettered their working condition. America fought for women’s rights, preserve the environment, and speak out against imperialism with both passion and remorse.

This is also the time when America and his family finally began to reconcile after the Civil War, and the states gained enough influence in America’s life to keep him on the progressive track.

Roaring 20s & the Great Depression (17)

America got a brief taste of the global stage during WWI and wanted to remain on it through the League of Nations, but the states were like *GASP* NO CHILD U COME HOME RIGHT THIS INSTANT for fear of their baby straying too far from his family again.

So America returned to isolation at the war’s end. 

And it was pleasant, at first. A lot of problems were swept under the rugs, but America and the states enjoyed themselves and indulged in extravagant fashions, new cinematic entertainment, and lavish parties of the 1920s. The bonds between them all tightened, even as everything crashed and burnt to hell in the Great Depression.

But despite their deepened connections, the Great Depression was an incredibly harsh time for America and the states. It’s also when America first manifested his hero complex. The young nation saw his brothers and sisters suffer through poverty and horrid weather, and he wanted to be nothing less than a real-life Superman for his family. America wanted to bring optimism, joy, and laughter back to his family in this terribly grim time of depression and make all their problems disappear. America jokes and laugh loudly in attempts to lift the states’ spirits, even though he was struggling against a gritty reality of his own as well, all while assuming more and more power so he can try and lift them all out of this economic devastation. 

America’s efforts were heartwarming, but he had also unwittingly set the stage for history to repeat itself.

WWII (18)

The world’s descending into chaos again. America had spent months begging his states to let him enter the Second World War, and his elder siblings finally consented their nation’s declaration of war with the bombing of Pearl Harbor.

There’s no stopping their baby chick from traveling far far away from the nest now.

During the war, America found close friends/mentors in foreign nations like Britain and France for the first time during the war, and Canada became nothing less than a brother to him. He fought alongside the allies as a soldier and pulled his economy back into tip-top shape back home. The problem arise when America began to drift further and further away from his states as the war stretched on. The global theatres occupied America’s attention, and the bloody horrors of modern warfare turned him cold. 

America will emerge from the war as a victorious superpower, gaining leadership over not only his states but half of the globe as well. Some states will speak up in alarm as America continued to silence dissenters and crank out propaganda even as the war drew to a close, trying to reconnect with their nation. Unfortunately, America failed to listen as his eyes turned toward a former comrade dressed in red.  

Cold War (19)

There are a lot of similarities to speak of between the Gilded Age and the Cold War Era. However, one significant difference is that America’s motivation is no longer purely out of selfish ambitions, but also extreme paranoia. 

America had tried hard to hide it, but the rise of the USSR made him feel threatened beyond control. The power and wealth he has now were something America had fought vigorously to obtain, and the love & support of his family and friends are what kept America sane through the centuries. The young nation was dreadfully terrified by the mere concept of losing his status as a political and economic superpower or for his states/allies betraying him for the Soviet Union.

It was this irrational but overwhelming fear that blinded America and drove him into acting like an intensely insecure control freak, lending out financial support to Western Europe and installing many domestic welfare programs so no one will feel the need to seek out to Communism. But in the same time, he did not hesitate to resort to coercion should anyone show any signs of dissent. 

It took the states a lot of time and efforts to get this nation blinded by paranoia to come back to his senses, but they were still able to to it. After all, America wasn’t evil. He’s sinful, blinded, insecure, and at his worst, selfish and power-hungry. But in America’s core, he’s still that idealistic young man who loves and respects each and every one of his constituents with all his heart.

America isn’t evil, but he does need guidance and restraints from others to prevent his own ambitions, paranoia, and power from corrupting him. America needs those he loves so deeply to speak out in protest when he’s in the wrong, and he needs several helping hands to keep him on the progressive track. Luckily, that’s exactly what his states are here for!

[mediaeval-muse]

Book Review

A Dangerous Invitation by Erica Monroe. Quillfire Publishing. 2013.

Rating: 2/5 stars

Genre: historical romance

Part of a Series? Yes, The Rookery Rogues #1 of 4 (and a short story)

Summary:  She’s given up on love, and wants only independence… Torn from her life of privilege by her father’s death, Kate Morgan survives in London’s dark and depraved rookeries as a fence for stolen goods. The last man she ever expects, or wants, to be reunited with is her first love, who promised to cherish, honor and protect her, and instead fled amidst accusations of murder. He’s the reformed rake determined to win her back… One drunken night cost Daniel O’Reilly the woman he loved and the life he’d worked so hard to create. If he ever wants to reclaim that life–and Kate–he’ll not only have to prove he’s innocent of murder, but convince the pistol-wielding spitfire that he’s no longer the scoundrel he once was. Together, they’ll have to face a killer. Time is running out…

***Full review under the cut.***

Trigger Warnings: violence, sexual content, sexism, forced prostitution, rape, sexual assault, alcoholism, being buried alive

Overview: Another recommendation from the website Smart Bitches, Trashy Books. I decided to give this one a try because I’m a sucker for a spitfire heroine, murder plots, and the criminal underbelly of late Regency/pre-Victorian London. But while the previous recommendation was a hit, this one was somewhat of a miss. I think the bones of the story are good, as well as the character archetypes, but I wasn’t personally a fan of Monroe’s writing.

Writing: Monroe’s prose is fairly straightforward with some dramatic flairs here and there to heighten the emotion. It’s easy to read, and you can skim it quickly, if that’s your style. For me, however, it bordered a little too much on the melodramatic, and it became a bit repetitive when the same sentiments were evoked again and again. For example, we’re told a lot how much our heroine, Kate, can never trust a man again and that she can’t have a future with our hero, Daniel. After the first few times, I wished Monroe would move on to explore more complex emotions to develop her characters a little more. I also think the dialogue is a bit unrealistic, as characters tend to say exactly what’s bothering them or what deeper issues are plaguing them without much prompting, and real people don’t exactly talk that way. Some metaphors and choices of words were also a little awkward, which made for a confusing read at times.

By far, the biggest issue I had was the way Monroe handled the exposition and the details of her mystery. The action of the story starts out fairly quickly, which would have been fine except that I felt like I was being asked to care about characters’ histories without getting to know them first. Daniel runs into Kate after a long absence on page 2 of the first chapter of the novel, and I wish we were given a chapter where we saw Kate fencing some stolen goods or something else first to get us invested in her as a character. Also, because things happened so quickly, I felt like I was being told a lot of information rather than relevant details being shown to me organically. For example, a character might do or say something, then there’s be a kind of aside that explained the significance of the thing. Or Daniel would reference something about his quest to clear his name, then the author would take some time to tell us how he started his journey, how he knew people helping him, etc. As a result, there was a lot of setup jam-packed in the first few chapters, and I wish more had been done to create a flow that didn’t rely on duck info-dumping. Maybe if we had a chapter showing us Kate completing a sale (as I said) while Daniel is contacting his rogue friend, Atlas, who agrees to help him clear his name. Then the action between them could begin.

Plot: I love the idea of former lovers teaming up to solve a mystery, and at its heart, I think the premise of the plot was interesting. I did think, however, that some of the details and steps along the way weren’t handled as well as they could have been. There’s a lot of going to talk to witnesses or persons of interest, which makes for a lot of info-dumping, and there’s also some random chases which seemed to be inserted for the purposes of action rather than a logical unfolding of the mystery. During the first chase, for example, I was constantly wondering whether their pursuer was just a night watchmen or someone more nefarious. If the latter, how in the world would someone have known Daniel and Kate were snooping around the warehouses at night unless someone was following them? The thought that someone must know they are investigating the murder from the onset (and thus, know that Daniel is back in London) doesn’t really occur to the characters, which I found a bit frustrating.

Overall, I wished the events that made up the main narrative had been strung together more meaningfully. Every encounter that was related to solving the mystery had the potential for some interesting social commentary, and while it was gestured to, I ultimately felt that it was rushed. For example, there’s one scene in which Daniel and Kate go visit a prostitute, and Kate thinks a lot about how the girls are more than just objects and how women have to do what they can to survive. Soon after, she discloses her own rape after being tricked into prostitution. It seemed to me like the author was trying to cover a lot of things at once when the personal lives of the characters and the unfolding of the mystery could have revolved around one or two themes: the link between minorities and crime (due to poverty resulting from prejudice), for example, and the way gender also affects how women experience the criminal world. Or, given that the main undercurrent of the book is the existence of body snatching, every aspect of the story could be tied to the concept of “selling bodies” and disregard for the poor. If the bodies of the poor are being exploited to sell to medical facilities, that kind of matches up nicely with the idea of poor women “selling their bodies” via prostitution or Irish immigrants “selling their bodies” by becoming laborers. But alas, it seemed like the novel wasn’t quite interested in diving deep into those issues.

Characters: Our heroine, Kate, is a headstrong woman who has used her knowledge of her father’s shipping company to fence stolen goods following her family’s bankruptcy. I rather liked how her ruthlessness and street smarts were connected to this aspect of her life rather than the author throwing up her hands and just asserting that Kate was a badass. Kate was also pretty likable as a street-smart protagonist who knew how to navigate the criminal world of 19th century London. I liked watching her get out of tricky situations and disappear at opportune moments, and I especially liked that she had a practical, active role to play in the investigation. She’s enlisted for her quick mind and encyclopedic knowledge of her father’s company, and I found that enjoyable and well-done. However, she was a bit back-and-forth in her affections for Daniel. One minute, she’d be proudly declaring that they can’t be together and values her independence, and the next, she’d kiss him or let him touch her while thinking about how she wanted to be protected. While it was understandable, given her traumatic history on the streets, I did find it a bit frustrating, as a reader, because rather than there being some evolution or development to her character, Kate seemed to be on a more cyclical track.

Daniel, our hero, is an Irish immigrant who has returned from abroad after being accused of murder years before. I liked that Monroe set him up as a struggling former alcoholic and as having PTSD as a result of having found the murder victim before he died - it made it seem like reform was a continual process rather than a quick fix, and that men can be emotionally vulnerable in more ways than just being lovesick or abused. I didn’t quite see what Kate saw in him, however, as her main attraction to him seemed to be physical, especially when recounting their past. Why, for example, did she fall for him before the murder when she says she was concerned about his alcoholism? What drew her to him? I also think Daniel was written as a bit too jealous. He would hate a man he just met just because he potentially got to know Kate while Daniel was away. There was more than one time where his jealousy almost ruined his chances of clearing his name, which I found ridiculous.

The supporting characters were a bit of a mixed bag. I liked Kate’s barmaid friend, Jane, and Atlas, even though neither had quite enough “screen time” to be anything other than a convenient plot device. Other characters just outright got on my nerves with their general disregard for women. The villain, in particular, was poorly done in that he monologued a bit and sexually assaults our heroine for reasons that seem to just be “because I’m evil.” It made for a rather up-and-down reading experience.

Other: There were some interesting political aspects to this book in that many references were devoted to the mistreatment of Irish immigrants. There’s such potential there for a deeper exploration of prejudice and life as a “second class citizen,” including the brief references to Daniel’s code-switching (which was delightful) and his complicated feelings about being Irish but barely remember living in Ireland. I think, however, that a lot of the prejudice was left to stand on its own and generate some automatic sympathy for characters without actually thinking about how it could enhance the story. For example, are Irish people scapegoated for crime in Monroe’s world? How is the stereotype of the alcoholic Irishman subverted by Daniel’s struggle to be better or how does his past make us think more deeply about why people turn to drink (as opposed to judging everyone as uniformly “amoral”)? Just because the novel is a romance doesn’t mean that these issues can’t be explored (one has only to look to someone like Courtney Milan, who weaves social commentary into her romances brilliantly).

I also think more could have been done to enhance the romance itself. While I did like that Daniel was intent on proving himself to be a better man than he was when he left, I also didn’t think the romance was built on much other than their past and physical attraction. Daniel’s reasons for loving Kate seem to be that she anchors him, which is a bit selfish and frustrating, but he also admires her independence and intelligence, which prevented me from giving up on him entirely. That being said, their relationship doesn’t evolve as much as it’s cyclical. They fight a lot and Kate is constantly back-and-forth about whether or not she wants to be with him, so it felt like I was reading about the same issue over and over rather than seeing how trust was built between them. Daniel’s arc could have been more about accepting Kate for who she is now - not reminiscing about a past that couldn’t return - and Kate’s arc could have been about learning to trust again or valuing living people over the memory of her dead father. While Daniel’s acceptance of Kate’s past was well-done, I really wanted more insight as to how each person made the other’s lives better and more emotionally fulfilling, not just how they’re a good person for overlooking the other’s flaws or how the love interest “anchored” them or whatever. In fairness, Daniel does learn that he needs to “save himself” rather than rely on Kate to do it for him, but there was very little lead-up for him to get to that point.

Continuing with the Series? No.

Recommendations: I would recommend this book if you’re interested in historical romance (especially set in the 19th century), criminal underbelly of London, Irish heroes, reformed rakes, disinherited heroines, former lovers, and murder plots.

[derangedsilence]

Karlheinz

Permissions

Please feel free to check any of the Sakamaki Bros.’ permission lists.  It’s pretty repetitively the same.

The only exceptions:

Shipping - Within any verse he’s participating in, it’s entirely possible for him to form romantic and/or sexual partnerships with anyone who suits his needs, fancy, etc.  Canonically had three wives, you know what you’re signing up for if you aim for this.  However, as Karlheinz is very good at controlling his partners to suit his needs, I would prefer that many of his romances not get commented on by the public unless they’re somewhere they could be witnessed or if the individual themselves talks about it.  Feel free to ask me!

Participation - Hop into getting involved in plots and storylines!  Just do the dashboard commentary thing and tag this blog so I can be sure to see it.  This much is the same.  However, for some people, plots will need to have certain secrets kept, etc. until later.  You’re still welcome to get involved, but it might be better to discuss with me and any other involved players how to participate instead of commenting on the grapevine for those particular plot aspects.

Biography / Stats

FULL NAME. Karlheinz ALIAS. Tougo Sakamaki, Reinhart AGE. Appears 35-45 || Actually significantly older at 2000+ BIRTHDAY. Unknown  GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male, he/him ORIENTATION. Heteroflexible.  He’ll play it up for whoever can be used. SPECIES. Vampire. OCCUPATION. Vampire King (of the demon world), Japanese politician, school nurse... RESIDENCE. Someplace in the demon world, but visits the Sakamaki household from time to time.

HAIR. White, reddish/purple-ish EYES. Golden BUILD. “What the fuck, man, it’s like you’re photoshopped.” HEIGHT. 6'2'' ADDITIONAL NOTES. A known shapeshifter, not even his sons are sure they’ve seen his real form.  He can easily appear as a man, a woman, etc. to suit his needs.

ZODIAC. I Hate You, Vampire Dad is a zodiac, right? ALIGNMENT. Unknown.  POSITIVE TRAITS.  intelligent, charming, goal-oriented NEGATIVE TRAITS. merciless, sees people as means to an end, lacks the ability to feel deep emotional attachment 

BIRTH PLACE. Japan NATIONALITY. Japanese PARENTS. Unknown SIBLINGS. Sibling: Richter.  Wives: Beatrix, Cordelia, Christa (also his cousin).  Sons: Shuu, Reiji, Ayato, Kanato, Laito and Subaru Sakamaki EXTENDED FAMILY. Adopted Sons: Ruki, Kou, Azusa and Yuma Mukami.  Bastards: Kino, apparently? EDUCATION. Unknown SPECIES. Vampire NOTABLE SKILLS. Being the worst dad ever, running extremely complicated and often successful experiments, is charming enough to be able to convince people who are fully aware of his nature that he really is sincere for them specifically, etc.  LANGUAGES. All of them  FAVORITE FOOD. The fruits of his labor

PUREBLOOD. Inhuman strength, increased speed, vision, hearing, and smell. Fast healing & healing saliva. TELEPORTATION. Can teleport instantaneously. FLYING. He can fly. SWORDSMANSHIP. S OTHER. In addition to the racial abilities of a pureborn vampire, he also possesses the highest level of magic in the Demon World and his power is considered by his race, as a whole, as well as his sons, as “Godlike”.  Karlheinz is capable of unleashing his magic and destroying the entire Demon World.  In addition, he can shapeshift and change his appearance as it suits him.  Oh, did we mention he also has the ability to MANIPULATE TIME and REVERSE EVENTS until he’s satisfied?   WEAKNESSES. None?   DISLIKES.  People not doing what he wants them to do in his experiments.

Appearance

*Will be updated as various ‘personae’ are implemented.

As ‘Karlheinz’, at least as most of his sons know him: A pale-haired, golden-eyed figure who dresses in extravagant capes.  His hair falls past his knees in waves and he looks absolutely ethereal.

As ‘Reinhart’, the school nurse, he is pale with blond hair wrapped into a ponytail and wears glasses.

Personality

One of the most powerful creatures in the demon world, he is viewed by the vampires (the bat clan) as a God.  Which may or may not affect his personality, but the fact is that it is universally understood that a man that’s over 2000 years old is in want of a new life goal.  Or death.

INTELLIGENT AND MANIPULATIVE: Karlheinz rarely directly engages these days, usually pulling strings in the background.  He manipulates for the better and for worse, only determined to get closer to his personal goals.  If that heals some and hurts others, so be it. 

AFFECTION: It’s well-known that demons do not experience the same emotions as humans, or at least, they do not act on nor feel them the way humans would.  Even within the “emotions” and “bonds” of demons, Karlheinz is incapable of deep affectionate sentiments and believes that all demons are similarly incapable.  He is obsessed with human emotions despite or because of his inability, glorifying them and incorporating them into his new demonkind 3.0 ideas.  His inability to feel this deep affection doesn’t save him from confusion and hesitant behavior on the rare occasion his plans and experiments are not succeeding.

It’s worth noting that he is considerably kinder when engaging with humans, as he blatantly punishes his own kind for their very nature (of which he is entirely aware).  However, humans break much more easily, so this may be a necessity for engaging those tools compared to his sons.

FAMILY: His sons, wives, etc. are all tools and test subjects with which to create a new race and “save” the Demon World.  If they become failed experiments, he has no issue disposing of them himself.  When it comes to his kids, he’s extremely neglectful but does not hesitate to order their punishment when they displease him.  He’s imprisoned Laito, sent Shuu to the North Pole, and tossed Subaru into the ocean.  Most of his abuse was directly on his wives and directly affected how they would raise their sons, however, for which most of the Sakamaki children loathe him.  

PRINCE CHARMING: Karlheinz excels at charming and manipulating others.  As with Cordelia, he promises everything to obtain them, spoils them, and then acts in whatever manner best executes his experiment.

History

Under construction.  

Quick summary: Really good contender for ‘worst dad’ and ‘worst vampire dad’ awards.

Verses

Brief summaries of the verses for Karlheinz along with potential links for those less familiar with Diabolik Lovers but still want to interact with him.  For the sake of keeping things clean, encouraging community-wide and cooperative storytelling in roleplay, and not letting things get too crazy, verses will be limited.  More may be made over time as needed.

Summaries:

| DL Anime | DL More Blood Anime | Haunted Dark Bridal | More Blood | (Coming Soon)

VERSE - HAUNTED DARK BRIDAL

Karlheinz is...somewhere.  Doing things.  Like usual.

*This verse will be typically be the default, 'main verse'. In this, it is assumed that Yui Komori is staying at the Sakamaki household with some version of the first game having taken place. If the second game is included, it's with the idea that Yui stayed with the Sakamakis.

Verse Details | Tag: #V; KARLHEINZ; HAUNTED DARK BRIDAL

VERSE - MORE BLOOD

Karlheinz is somewhere doing things, but now there’s Mukamis!

If for some reason it's absolutely necessary to differentiate between the verse above and a verse where More Blood has certainly occured, but Yui did not (at least initially) stay with the Sakamakis and instead is currently living with the Mukamis or was, until recently, still living with the Mukamis.  Rivalry abounds and attempts to procure Yui are likely.

Verse Details | Tag: #V; KARLHEINZ; MORE BLOOD

VERSE - MISC.

Posts that could take place in the Sakamaki or Mukami verses but involve duplicates (whether Yui or others) in the same scene in a manner that would be hard to pass off as typical flow for those verses.  Also includes nearly ANY time fellow characters are staying at the mansion, otherwise we’d end up with verses of 20+ additional characters hanging out in the Sakamaki villa.  

Verse Details | Tag:#V; KARLHEINZ; MISC

SITUATIONAL VERSE TAGS

#V; KARLHEINZ; UNIVERSAL

Posts that can easily be assumed to have occured in either the Sakamaki or Mukami verses, typically answering asks, etc. that aren’t directly related to events unique to their timelines.

#V; KARLHEINZ; WHAT IFS & #V; KARLHEINZ; ONESHOTS

Likely reserved for one-off threads exploring a “what if”, a romantic meme that would otherwise be inappropriate, etc.  If a meme doesn’t quite fit with one of the existing timelines, it’ll get one of these.

Trivia

Successfully cucked by Richter for years, but he kind of encouraged it to begin with so who really loses?

Can and will wear you out in the bedroom and leave you a flower to wake up to in the morning.

Gave Reiji a pocketwatch that shows how much time is left until the end of the world.  Demon world?  Human world?  Who knows.

Really just wanted to know if Shuu would actually fight back against polar bears when he sent him to the north pole.  Now he knows.

“Even when he loses, he wins” is a theme with this guy.  I hate him, too.  I know.

Tags

THREAD / WRITING TAG: #echoes in the halls; karlheinz

HEADCANONS:  #hc; dialovers; karlheinz

IMAGES: #itt // karlheinz

MUSIC:  #music; dialovers; karlheinz

[mariposalass]

Say Something, My Love

Summary: Philip Hamilton has no idea of how modern Valentine’s Day works and is bad in confessing his romantic feelings for a modern day girl like her. And yet, he seeks out help in Mari’s siblings and friends to set up a date they will never forget. He didn’t expect that she is also feeling the same way too.

Setting: Mari and co.’s house in Daly City, California; February 4 to 14, 2019

Notes: Valentine’s Day story with Philip and Mari finally discovering that the other have feelings as each other big time! Inspired by @plucky-belmondo’s Valentine’s Day Imagines Prompts (namely the first 2 prompts) with my own spin. The stuff I used here include the recipes in the dinner (1, 2, 3, 4, 5), the tablescape inspiration, flowers, and the outfit Mari/me wore in this story. I’ll release a playlist for me and Philip some time after this.

Tags: Tons of crushing and gushing, Philip needs help in decoding Valentine’s Day, the feels!, romantic vibes, brief mention of character death

Philip Hamilton is in a loss for words right now. He has no idea of what he is feeling in this day and age, but for the last few weeks since he got revived back to life, these unspeakable feelings of love in one of his hosts, Mari, have grown exponentially. Still, it feels like alien territory for him to fall in love with somebody trying to help him out that he has kept his mouth shut whenever Mari notices him trying to get her attention that doesn’t involve help in adjusting to the 21st Century or just wanting to hang out with her and her family & friends.

For weeks, he kept silent on the matter, hoping that it will just fade away and he could just move on and probably find love in another woman too. Even Valentine’s Day is a foreign concept he couldn’t figure out. But these feelings and thoughts were too much for the eldest child of Alexander Hamilton to resist and he now wants to finally confront them big time, except that his father is no longer with him anymore and he is dry of ideas to court this lovely Asian woman on this ominous day.

Which is why he had arranged a last-minute meeting with Harry, Kairi, Issa, and Kirby at the basement one February night (Feb. 4 to be exact) to find a good idea while Mari was still on her way home from work. The aforementioned 4 had no idea as why they are dragged into this at first, but they know well that Philip needs some help in the matter of modern day dating. Everyone else in their group couldn’t come over though for various reasons (being sick, being out of town, work, school, etc.), but they do appreciated the offer though.

“So… You’re telling us that you, you want to date my sister?” Kairi started off the meeting with a question, sounding rather lost.

“Why, I, I, I could explain...” the young Hamilton sputtered in his words, his cheeks flushed hard.

“Philip, don’t be afraid to tell us,” Harry tried his best to reassure him, having to deal with a bad luck in dating women before Issa, the half-blood wizard can sense that Philip needed some help on the world of modern day ‘courting’ per say, “I’ll admit, I didn’t have anyone to teach me how to date a lady when I was a dumb teenager, and I ended up with two relationships that ended up badly. Yeah, I may be that big of an overprotective of a brother, but I can tell if a guy likes either one of my sisters and tries to be a respectable human, I’ll try to be supportive in any way I can.”

“You don’t say, Harry,” Philip began to sound less obnoxious upon hearing of Harry’s poor teen dating history, “I’m quite amazed that you and Issa don’t look like you’re going to fall apart.”

“Thankfully, my sisters were there for me even during my roughest time, especially when me and Issa started dating full time,” he replied, “I couldn’t thank them enough… Anyway, is there anything you want to surprise Mari this Valentine’s Day?”

Issa then stepped in, saying, “Yeah, Philip. Please tell us. We’re all ears now.”

“Well, actually, I have no idea of what to do to spend some time with her on that day!” he admitted much to their shock, “I don’t even recall celebrating it back in my old time. I guess I’m a little too old fashioned to do these strange modern day courting things you guys are doing.”

“Poyo!” Kirby’s mouth opened up in shock, dropping a bit of Strawberry Shortcake on his plate.

This confession left them a little surprised to put it lightly, regardless, Philip began to calm down from being too nervous to be in-depth and explain that he has set up this emergency meeting as to get some ideas as to make an unforgettable Valentine’s Day for Mari since she wasn’t that lucky in finding a guy who will love her unconditionally as she feared that a guy (and even a neurotypical one at that) will reject her because of her Asperger's diagnosis. This raised the alarm for the adopted siblings and friends that they wanted to help out even more than when they were earlier.

“Perhaps we can start by telling you what Mari likes and what her dream date would be like,” Issa suggested Philip a really brilliant idea.

“Alright then, as you say so, Issa,” he responded with a great approval.

“Me and Kairi will go first on this,” Harry began the dialogue, “Since we know her the longest, it’s best for us to say that she has a lot of things she likes and has in mind. First off, she likes her some literary and geeky stuff, she will devour them up like it’s breakfast. And the flowers, good Lord, flowers and butterflies are what gets her rolling. Not caterpillars though, she just finds them icky.”

“Okay, I’ll trying to keep track of what you guys are telling about,” Philip told him as he began to take notes.

“She also likes perfumes, especially those with floral scents: she’s head over heels with them,” Kairi stepped in, “It’s best that you can put one of her favorite scents on the drawer for her to see. Speaking of the flowers, she likes nearly all kinds of flowers, including Sweet Avalanche roses and baby’s breath. She just love the simple but sweet combination of the two combined.”

“You want to know what her idea of a romantic date is: having dinner out under the stars, chatting about interests (even if she knows there are those she can’t catch on), and having a nice walk to wrap things up,” Issa added in to the nuanced discussion, “Mari can be quite a picky eater, If there is something she isn’t wanting to eat or try, she will not eat that thing at all or it will take a long time for her to adjust to it. She would also love to hear some nice music from various genres playing at the background.”

“That picky?” he asked her and got a nod as an answer, “Hmm… I wonder how we can put in some music into play”

“There’s Spotify, YouTube, and SoundCloud, though we can make a playlist for that in iTunes as well,” Kairi replied.

Then Kirby has his turn to add to his chat, which is mostly composed of Poyo Speak, saying “Poyo, poyo. Popoyo, yop, poyo, yoyopo, poy, poyo!”, but everyone (but Philip) knew that Kirby was saying that they can host this date in the backyard and get it prepared for the special day of love and hearts. From the look in his face, Philip has a long way to go when it comes to understanding Poyo Speak.

“Okay then, now we gave a you basic rundown what turns her on, what are you considering to do for the day?” Issa then questioned him as the meeting nears its end.

It then became crystal clear that a dinner date at the bunch’s house backyard would the name of the game for Valentine’s Day with flowers and music involved into the mix. Everyone joined in to make the day special for both parties: grocery shopping, rummaging through storage for something to use for the al fresco dining experience, dealing with flower bouquet arrangements, going through iTunes for playlist ideas - All being done while keeping Mari out in the dark of it. Philip knows that he and everyone else in the bunch can’t risk spoiling the surprise for her in the plain sight so they would take turns distracting her whenever she notices something in their weird ‘chores’ within the next week and a half.

Meanwhile, she has her romantic feelings for Philip growing out of control in her head and it’s freaking her out! How did the world match her with him and made her falling fast for him up until this point? She has secretly keeping them away from most of the people and creatures she knows out of fear that she’ll be mocked for dating a now ex-dead guy. It just so happened during a Saturday afternoon when Mari and Kairi were sitting on a bench at an open-air strip mall in Daly City while waiting for Harry and Issa to pick them after they have finished doing the regular weekly groceries.

“Mari… You seem to be a little off in recent weeks lately,” Kairi asked her older adopted sister, her tone being of concern and worry.

“Oh, it’s nothing, Kai,” she sighed in dismay.

“Let me guess: it has to do with you being all fuzzy whenever Philip’s around?” she began to suspect something funny with her head.

“Unfortunately, yes, Kairi,” Mari’s eyes widened in horror when she heard those words.

“It seems for the last few weeks since we accidentally brought him back from the dead, you’re blushing like crazy when he’s in your line of sight,” she tried to reassure her in vain.

“Kairi, I just don’t know what to do with those feelings,” the assistant librarian wept as she facepalmed herself in anguish, “He’s cute, smart, and nice and all. But I’m worried that he won’t take me seriously in the romantic department. Plus, I never thought of really wanting on a serious relationship this badly before. What kind of an idiot am I for going all mushy over some formerly dead guy from 2 centuries back?”

“So… Okay, that was awkward. Anyway, Valentine’s Day is coming closer everyday, huh?” she reminded her of the day incoming.

“Yeah, it sure does,” Mari nodded in agreement while looking at the calendar in her smartphone.

“Sis, you can’t keep those strange feelings for long though. It’s hard, but if you want, perhaps this incoming Valentine’s Day can help you out a bit in helping you confessing them to Philip,” she advised her on the matter on hand, “Who knows? He might like you that much as much as you like him a lot.”

“Really?” Mari questioned her sister again.

“Mari, I get that having Aspergers does suck and it is not giving you an easy time at all, but you never know about falling for someone until you try,” Kairi explained to her on the matter before remembering something that she can relate on, “Remember the time when I was struggling to deal with my feelings for Sora becoming more romantic over time?”

“Still do to this day, why did you need to bring it up again?” she remembers the moment well, “You two still are dating each other though.”

“We still do, sis. It may be a long time ago, but I’m still grateful that you’re supportive of both of us early on,” the younger sister noted, “You are a great supporter all the way, now I want to pay you back by being there for you all the way. I’m pretty sure that Harry, Issa, and the others will be there for you too.”

“If you say so, Kai,” Mari sighed as her little sister did her best to give her support.

The final days leading up to Valentine’s Day are of a frantic nature as couples scramble to plan their dates out across various activities and places; meanwhile, single either try to stay away from any sign of sickening sweet love or spend some time with other loved ones and friends instead. In Mari’s crazy bunch, there was so much to do to make the best date experience for her and Philip possible. At those days, she couldn’t be allowed to go venture to the backyard for some ‘reason’ as everyone else set the place up for the night: from preparing the menu to untangling string lights and paper lanterns to putting up the tulle curtains on PVC pipes.

When the day arrived shortly after work, Mari got herself ready for the night with a little help from Issa, Karina, and Kairi, nothing too fancy since this was a date set in her own backyard anyway so she could easily get away with just a nice casual dress, jacket, and boots; whereas Philip spent the last few minutes helping Harry, Moana, Kirby, and Ahk in arranging the table properly. His mind was racing wildly as he wondered if he had done enough to make her amazed by his efforts or if he has gotten too far as those feelings for Mari grew exponentially.

Mari just finished doing the final touch-ups when she overheard Kairi calling her that Philip has something waiting for her at the backyard. She proceeded to race down the stairs in her camel-colored ankle boots to find Philip waving back at her with one arm hiding behind his back. Unlike with their first meeting at the exhibit where in he was in his old fashioned coat and cravat, he is now dressed in a crisp white and blue striped button-down shirt with long sleeves, dark wash blue jeans, and black/white sneakers Harry was able to get from a co-worker at the newspaper company he was working at.

“Wow, such a quick improvement from what we had at your revival day,” she spoke up upon seeing the new look he was sporting on that night.

“Your compliments are much welcomed,” he blushed back before he then unveiled a bouquet of blush roses and white baby’s breath in front of her, “This… This bouquet is for you.”

“Oh, why thank you, Philip,” Mari felt her cheeks to blush in response as she received the bouquet with her hands, taking a quick sniff of the flowers before she then asked a random question, “There are no caterpillars, right?”

“Made sure that there is no single one hiding behind the petals,” he answered in a reassuring tone.

He guided her through the kitchen and dining area before they stopped at the doors leading to the backyard which have been covered by curtains. Kirby floated on by and waved at them with high energy, acting as the waiter for the night. Mari then peeled back the curtains and doors as she walked down to the back porch with Philip following after her, smiling for what would be for her at the time no concrete reason other than possibly trolling her.

But it’s when she looked at there that she was struck by how much effort Philip and her friends & family had put into to make the night memorable: delicate tulle fabrics draping the small area of a lower tier patio where a small square table was residing (dressed in a cream tablecloth and lace topper), two wooden outdoor chairs waiting on standby, ordinary dishware and vintage cutlery & crystal glasses she rarely recalls her family using unless her grandmothers pull them out for special occasions, a glass-like pitcher of water, plants around the area, string lights lit from behind the tulle curtains, a vase for the bouquet in which she placed them into, and a smaller side table for the other food, serving items, and a carafe of a drink near and dear to her heart that is the Arnold Palmer. The vibes was giving her some alarms when she soon realized something she showed to Philip 3 weeks ago: film about being surrounded with nature, gorillas, and possible concerns towards colonialism.

“Channeling Tarzan, huh?” she questioned Philip’s logic behind the inspiration which hes replied back in a smile.

“That Disney interpretation of the Edgar Rice Burroughs jungle books was one of the first films you introduced me to modern day entertainment, so I thought why don’t I repay you back with this?” he politely answered back to her when she overheard songs playing out from a docked iPod beside the small side table.

“You got music playing out here too?” she asked him again which he nodded positively while she was pouring the iced tea/lemonade hybrid into the vintage glasses.

As the two took their seats, Kirby arrived waddling in with a tray holding the first course: the earthy umami taste of wild mushrooms in broth form with scattered button, shiitake, and portabello mushrooms floating on top and toasted baguette slices. The little puffball poured the soup carefully into the soup bowls with a ladle despite having no visible fingers in his stubby arms and stayed by them after he was done, because he’s quite a morbidly curious baby. Not a word was spoken as the two partake in sipping the soup, Mari used some of her baguettes to dip into the soup and eat them partially soaked which amused Philip quite a bit.

Once done with the first part of the meal, Kirby took the bowls from them and dashed back to the kitchen for cleaning and to get the next course. As the music kept on playing, Mari was twirling some hair strands anxiously, her mind was going all over the place as to whether or not she should confess her feelings for Philip now. She still remembers that talk with Kairi back at the strip mall less than a week ago, but that pondering soon abruptly ended when Kirby waddled back with the entree of orange-glazed salmon, quinoa mixed with olives & pine nuts, and a salad of baby spinach & arugula, peas, and orange segments. About midway of savoring the food, Mari suddenly stopped and looked at Philip at the eyes, taking a deep breath as she was readying herself for the big moment.

“Philip, I have some words I’ve been meaning to say to you tonight,” she started the conversation, “My head has been plagued with these feelings that has been scaring me to confess anything. I highly doubt if you’re that interested to hear it.”

“Oh no, don’t feel bad for telling me this thing,” he begged to differ, willing to listen to her (which understandably surprised her a bit) along with having those same unspoken feelings at the same time.

“Well, here goes nothing...” she muttered to herself, taking another big deep breath before she began her confessions while poking the plate with her fork, “Ever since the accidental revival more than a month ago, I’ve been developing these thoughts and feelings out of nowhere. The thing is, I’ve never dated a guy before until now. With me being an Aspie, I’m a total hot mess in the inside, my quirks can annoy some people for too long. I was scared that a guy, and a neurotypical one especially, will not date me because of it, because they can’t seem to be willing to put with me, my quirks, my stims, & my disability, and still love me even if I have meltdowns. Philip, I’m sorry if I’m rambling like a motormouth right now, I just don’t know how to put these words lightly. I… I can’t believe I’m saying to you now, but… I, I, I have fallen hard for you so badly...”

Tears were soon escaping from her eyes as she briefly looked away from Philip, bracing for the rejection or heckling and with no idea of reacting to it properly. What she didn’t expect however was what came out of his mouth being completely different from she was thinking of hearing, and it went like this:

“Mari… Please don’t get too upset right now,” he spoke up after hearing ever word she said, feeling really bad for her plight, “I can’t imagine you having a rough time with your impairment, I can’t help but to feel sorry, genuinely sorry to hear that.”

“Huh, you what?” she gasped upon hearing those words.

“Yes, I truly do,” he replied, “I just so happen to be lacking in the… dating world as you can call it in my old time as well. My Papa was determined to let me continue the family legacy into my studies and work. I was so busy with a lot of work then that I just have a few days & brief periods to myself and I couldn’t just idle so much. Then that Eacker made that wretched speech against him, it led to the duel between me, him, and a friend of mine. And…”

Philip was starting to cry, feeling choked the moment he was about to bring up his first horrible death that it snapped Mari from crying. She didn’t thought that he would break down like that in front of her, yet here they are: feeling unusually tense and still there for each other: her being an uncertain socially awkward Aspie and him being a revived overworked kid who feels burdened to keep up with his father’s own legacy only to have his life ended first in a gun shoot and return to the world of the living again.

He then mentally calmed himself down so he can get a grip on himself before he traded in his part of the tense moment, “You see, Mari. In other words, I never courted a girl, never kissed one ever… Then nearly 218 years later, there is you and your family. For all the first months, you guys are there for me regardless: your brother was able to get me a job in the newspaper company he and Issa are working at, you guys showing everything the modern world has to offer from these interesting technical devices to how much America has become into a cultural melting pot. And you’re just the most lovely woman I have ever known outside of Mama. One more thing as well: I actually start to like you more than a mere friend.”

Mari’s jaws felt as if they were about to fall off as soon as she heard those words, locked into suspended disbelief as she began to talk again, “Huh, really? Are you this serious?!?”

“Yes, I am,” he responded quickly, “I’m not kidding. In many ways, you’re quite an amazing woman: smart, witty, kind, unafraid to take risks and be yourself, creative. Even with those faults you have, you still keep on trying to live life well. My folks would’ve like to meet someone like you if they are here today. They really would. And yes, I really do love you...”

The last world sounded more like a jumbled up mess as he spoke, yet Mari can hear it clear: he really likes her regardless of how much Philip blushed as he tried to speak to her without sounding too cheesy. She giggles in between the last remaining bites of her plated meal and sips of her Arnold Palmer while he was trying to snap himself out of his slightly messed up previous words. She then told him, “Geez, I can’t believe that I just met my match, in someone from a different time period, like you. Still, I guess we just need somebody else to lean on...”

“You can say that again, Mari,” he too smiled back as he finally finished his food too.

The two kept on talking more even as Kirby took out the entree plates to the kitchen and returned with a skillet chocolate chip cookie with vanilla ice cream and chocolate sauce for the two to share. Mari split the dessert into two servings for herself and Philip into the new plates. As the two chatted over melting ice cream and chewy cookie parts, Harry, Issa, Kirby, and Kairi watched from the inside, gushing about as they witnessed a new relationship formed from different time periods and worlds, knowing too well that it was just the beginning.

The End

[thelibrarianintraining]

The Division - Chapter Five - Mitch Rapp

Author: @thelibrarianintraining

Title: “This Time Tomorrow”

Word Count: 3,372

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, oral (female receiving), protected sex

Summary: As they seek more information about their target, Rapp becomes more suspicious of Eve’s intentions. She reassures him that she’s not working against him.

Masterlist

Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six

Eve grunted as she rolled onto her side to check her phone’s caller ID. It was Hurley, so she had no choice but to pick it up. The sun was just beginning to rise, it's light barely peeking in through the windows and she had a slight headache. Talking to her father was near the bottom of the list of things that she actually felt like doing. The top being go back to sleep.

"Hello?"

"Eve, I just finished going over your report. Do you think you can handle King?" questioned Hurley. She wanted to ask if he knew what time it was, but he probably did and he probably assumed that she had already been awake. He expected her to be up before the sun, but she didn’t live on Barn time anymore. Eight was her early and besides, she still had jet lag.

"Of course. I'm ready this time and I'm sure that Rapp won't let him get away anyway," she answered, glancing to the other side of the bed, where Rapp had been when she fell asleep. She’d almost forgotten he’d slept there. Almost. His presence had nearly hindered her sleep more than it had helped it. He was awake. His brown eyes were watching her and he didn't mind that he'd been caught. He just kept his eyes on her.

"Yeah, well, just be careful out there, all right?"

"Of course, Hurley. I'm ready this time. You made sure that I was prepared."

In the night, Rapp had shrugged off the covers and he was on top of them now. His shirt had been discarded, probably because of her tears, and he had nothing on but his boxer briefs, she realized. For the second time in less than twelve hours, he was mostly naked in front of her and she wasn’t sure that she could handle that.

"I've tried to make sure that you're both prepared."

"I think you've been successful. I'll update you as soon as I've got more information. Look for my next report," she stated, her eyes still on Rapp's. He’d prepared them for a lot of things, but working with each other wasn’t one of them. She hadn’t been prepared for this kind of partner at all. She’d been prepared for annoying and she’d been prepared for disobedient. Rapp was a whole other ball game.

"Make it worth my time, Gallowin," ordered Hurley. "I can't give the kill order until I have good strong proof."

"Yes, sir." The line went dead and she set the phone back on the nightstand. Rapp finally looked away and she felt somewhat disappointed. He'd only been interested in her conversation, while she'd been solely interested in him.

"So do we have the go ahead on King?" he questioned, all business again.

"Not until I have some solid proof. I can't do anything until I can show them that he really is involved," she stated and he shifted onto his side, while she struggled to keep her eyes on his.

"Then I guess that we should get started for the day."

"Real tourists wouldn't be up before the sun," she stated, glancing toward the window.

"Maybe some wanna get out and see the sights before the crowds."

"Not a young couple. They'd be taking advantage of their private suite and their big king size bed," she laughed. Rapp's eyes shifted, glancing over the upper half of her body, what wasn't hidden beneath the sheets. That's when she realized how he might have interpreted her suggestion. "I mean, who doesn't want to sleep in? Especially a young couple who stayed up a little too late."

He raised an eyebrow at her. He was catching on to where her thoughts were roaming. She shouldn’t have corrected herself.

"A young couple who stayed up too late enjoying each other and woke up early enough that they had time to enjoy each other even more?”

She stared at him for a moment and then laughed.

"That's a good point."

Eve showed Rapp King's home. It didn't look like the home of an international arms dealer. It looked more like the home of a wealthy elderly woman. And maybe that was the point, but it still seemed ridiculous.

She shared with him everything that she knew of the home's layout, including the grounds. They noted how many men there were and the placement of security cameras. She explained the home's security system, or what it had been the last time that she'd been to the house, three years ago.

Then, they returned to the hotel to go over the details and formulate a plan of action.

Rapp got into the shower, while Eve was writing her report. He wondered if she was asleep yet. He couldn't stop thinking about the way that she'd looked that morning, sleeping beside him. Then how she'd looked when she was awoken by Hurley's call. Her tank top had ridden up during the night, revealing the smooth skin of her waist and he'd wanted to touch her so badly. He'd probably even stared longer than he should have, but he couldn't really help himself.

His shower was cold and rushed. He needed to calm down and wake up. He was too relaxed around Eve and he of all people should know better. The only people that he could trust were Hurley and Kennedy. He barely knew Eve. Hurley had sent him on this mission for a reason, and after seeing her take down three men alone, he was pretty sure that it wasn't because she couldn't kill King on her own. She'd already confessed to him that she'd killed an assassin.

He'd just pulled on his boxer-briefs and was in the process of adjusting the waistband when he came to a realization. Hurley had sent him to finish off King, if she failed a second time. Maybe he'd even sent him to finish off Eve, if it came down to it. Hurley didn't really trust Agent Gallowin. He trusted Rapp to do what was necessary to complete the mission.

He opened the bathroom door to look at her, hoping that she was asleep. She was and she looked so damn innocent and peaceful. She was right. Who'd ever guess that she was a spy? Who'd ever guess that he was an assassin? That despite their appearances there hid a monster just waiting to take down anyone that got in its way? And that went for both of them. She'd taken down an assassin just to live. Who knew what other kills she had under her belt? And he was well aware of his own ruthlessness when it came to the bad guys.

"What's wrong, Rapp? You're giving off too much negative energy for me to sleep," she mumbled and he realized that her eyes were on him.

"Why am I really here, Gallowin? You don't need me."

She sat up with a sigh, cocking her head to the side as she looked at him. She'd lost the tank top, but he kept his eyes locked on hers. The possibility that she was the bad guy, was definitely a turn off.

"Because Hurley thinks that I need a babysitter. You'd probably guessed that already. After all, I did tell you my history."

"Is that it? Really?" he asked, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms over his chest.

"He thinks that I'll fail again and he can't risk that. You're here as a sort of insurance policy that the job will get done...one way or the other."

"You think that he sent me here to kill you?"

Eve laughed like it was the most ridiculous thing that she’d ever heard.

"Hurley wouldn't have me killed. Tortured? Maybe. Locked away? Probably. Under surveillance at all times? Oh, yeah. Definitely. But killed? No."

"You seem so sure of that."

"He's my dad." She shrugged. He stared at her. “I would hope that he wouldn’t send an assassin after me. I’d like to think that he’d at least do it himself. The whole ‘never let it get personal’ deal.”

"What?" he asked, ignoring everything after the first sentence.

"Stan Hurley is my dad." She stated it like it was common knowledge. Rapp stared at her in disbelief. He wasn’t sure that he was hearing her right. "He's all I've got."

"Where's your mother?"

"She passed away when I was still a kid. I barely remember her. I’m the illegitimate kid.  Hence, why I use the name Gallowin. It was my mother’s maiden name. It wouldn’t do me any good to use my dad’s. It’d only put me in even more danger. But I’ve lived with him since I was a kid. I had nowhere else to go. My mom was a prostitute. Luckily, her ‘boss’ was a contact of dad’s so he knew about me and when mom passed away, he took me in. I mean, there was a lot of legal stuff involved. DNA tests, citizenship, etc. His job made that all a little easier though."

"Are you even supposed to be telling me this?" He was sure that his face was probably a little comical, but he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

"Probably not, but we've got to trust each other. I want you to know that I'm not a double agent. I know that you're thinking it."

He was silent for a long time as he thought about what she'd said. He wasn't really sure that he believed her, but it did seem a little too far-fetched to be a lie.

"I can call him and get him to confirm it right now."

"Would he do that even if he's really your father?"

"He will if I explain the situation. It's life or death."

"I'm not going to kill you unless you give me a reason to."

“Here, actually, it’s in my file.” She picked up her laptop.

“It’s okay. I believe you,” he said, pushing off the door frame. She stared at him a moment before setting the laptop back on the bedside table.

"I'm glad we got that sorted out. Now I can go--"

Rapp cut her off by pressing his lips firmly against hers. He'd made his way to the side of the bed in moments. Now that he was mostly sure that she wasn't a double agent, he didn't feel so bad about the way he wanted her. After all, if Hurley was her dad, then she had a lot more to fear than Rapp if she did something that went against them. She gasped, but then pressed herself closer to him.

He'd admittedly never liked the taste of red wines, but he couldn't help but think that if they tasted the same as they did on Eve's lips, they'd be all he ever wanted to drink. He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned in closer to her. He’d think about the consequences later.

Eve gasped in surprise as Rapp kissed her, one of his large hands sliding up the back of her neck to tangle in her hair as he pulled her closer. She was surprised and confused, but she didn't say anything out of fear of ruining the moment. Instead, she pressed herself in closer to him. She’d been craving him since they’d kissed at the Gala. She hadn’t kissed anyone in a while, but she knew that it was the best kiss that she’d ever had.

He pulled away slowly to catch his breath, but kept his hand at the back of her neck. He moved to sit beside her on the bed as he leaned in again.

"What are you doing, Mitch Rapp?" she questioned, her breathing still unsteady. She didn’t want to ruin the moment, but she had to know what this moment was. She needed to know his intentions. It had been a fairly sudden change.

"I don't know what I'm doing," he murmured, opening his eyes to look at her.

"I like a Mitch Rapp who doesn't know what he's doing," she replied, pressing her lips back against his. She was content with that answer, content to know that he just wanted her and that was all he knew. She fumbled her way out from beneath the sheets and climbed into his lap, straddling him like she'd been dreaming about doing for days. His free hand slipped down to her ass, pressing her closer to him as he let his tongue slip into her mouth. He pulled away only to attach his lips to her neck and she let her head fall to the side, reveling in the feel of his mouth on her skin.

She moaned quietly as he reached her soft spot and he hummed back as he let the hand that had been at the back of her neck fall to the clasp of her bra. He popped it open in one expert motion, never letting his lips leave her skin as he pulled the straps down her arms. He pulled away when it fell, looking up at her with dark eyes before lowering his head to take one of her nipples into his mouth. Eve let her hands slide over his chest, through the dark hair there, to his shoulders, and then up his neck only to tangle her fingers in his dark hair and tug him closer.

He moved his hand to her other breast to tweak the nipple there and he groaned quietly against her skin when she moved in closer, grinding her core against his length. She did it again and they both let out moans. She pushed him backwards onto the bed and his hands slid to her hips as she continued to grind against him. She loved the feel of him beneath her. She loved the look of him beneath her, his hands guiding her hips as he matched her rhythm. She liked this side of Rapp, his guard let down and his eyes almost black as he watched her. She leaned down to kiss him again.

In the next moment, he'd flipped their positions with her underneath him and ripped her underwear down her legs. He kept his eyes on her as he kissed his way down her stomach, until his knees were on the floor. He tugged her all the way to the edge of the bed with minimal effort, throwing her legs over his shoulders and ducking his head between them. She gasped, letting her head fall back against the bed, as he pressed his tongue flat between her folds and licked a stripe up to her clit. She clung to the sheets as his tongue flicked against her clit mercilessly. dragging obscene moans from her lips.

Her hips bucked against his hand as he slipped a finger into her heat and he moved his free hand to hold her hips in place as he slowly pumped his finger in and out of her. He stopped only for a moment, to insert a second finger and groaned as she clenched around him. He continued his assault on her clit as he curled his fingers, causing her to scream his name. He kept his steady rhythm through her orgasm until she was pushing him away with a whimper, unable to take anymore.

Or so she thought, until he stood up and licked her juices from his fingers and she shivered a little at the sight. Until she saw his stubble soaked with her essence and his erection straining against his boxer briefs and she realized that she wanted nothing more than to feel him inside of her. She wanted him to absolutely dominate her. To make her scream his name until she couldn't scream anymore.

She grabbed a condom from the the drawer of the bedside table while he stripped out of his briefs and stroked himself. She could tell that he wanted to ask, but was glad that he didn't as she handed it to him and he slipped it on and moved his body over hers. He rolled his hips into hers and she shuddered at the feeling of his tip sliding through her folds. Then he was positioning himself at her entrance and slipping inside. They both groaned at the feeling.

“Oh, God, Rapp. Please,” she whispered and he let out a puff of air that could have been an amused laugh before he started to move his hips. The way his hips rolled into hers was unbelievable and she whimpered against his chest as she clung to him, but it wasn’t nearly enough. She needed more and she knew that he was capable of everything she wanted and then some. “Rapp, fuck me like you mean it.”

He slowed until his hips came to a stop and she looked up at him in disappointment, but he wasn’t even close to done with her. He pulled away, only to throw one of her legs over his shoulder before he thrust into her again. He tangled his fingers in her hair and yanked, exposing her neck to his mouth as she gasped. He sucked at her neck harshly as he pounded into her, the new angle and the force of his thrusts causing her to scream.

“Say my name, princess,” he ordered and she didn’t hesitate when she begged him for more. He glanced down to where their bodies connected and let out a deep moan that made her clench around him. “Fuck.”

“Ra-” his lips pressed roughly against hers before she could finish his name and she moaned into his mouth as his finger found her clit and began rubbing furious circles around it. She was moments from falling over the edge when he picked up his pace, the coil in her stomach tightening. She screamed his name as her orgasm washed over her, her body arching into his and clenching around him, triggering his in return.

"Oh, fuck," he grunted, his thrusts becoming sloppy and then slowing to a stop. He was panting heavily, holding himself up on shaking arms before pulling out and collapsing next to her.

"That...was amazing," she panted as she glanced over at him and he nodded, his chest still heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

Rapp's fingers drew lazy circles on Eve's side as he held her close to him. They’d cleaned themselves up and then collapsed side by side on the bed. They were both still partially in a daze and he was enjoying the feeling of holding a woman again. She hadn't pulled her clothes back on yet and for that he was grateful. He was enjoying the feeling of her soft skin against his.

"Keep it up, Rapp, and I'll start to think you actually like me," she murmured quietly, resting her head on his arm. She was looking up at him, probably expecting him to say something, but he didn't know what to say to her. What could he say? Not that he loved her. He could tell her that he did actually like her, but he was afraid that she'd read too much into that. That she’d think it meant something different than how he actually meant it.

She apparently didn't care too much about a response though as she settled in against him, slipping a leg between his and closing her eyes. A few moments later, much to Rapp's surprise, she was asleep. He desperately hoped that she was exactly who she said she was because he could use a few more moments like this one. He wasn't really sure that he could find them again without Eve because for some reason, he trusted her, despite his lack of trust for everyone else in the world. There was something about her. Something beyond just the fact that she was Hurley's daughter. If she happened to betray his trust somehow, he wasn’t sure what he would do.

She'd wanted him to know about her past. She'd put it all out there. All her mistakes, knowing that he'd have doubts about her loyalty. She had to have known that he wouldn't be able to trust her if she told him all of it, but she'd wanted him to know anyway.

[purple-spring]

the vocabulary of us

Summary: Sometimes, words won't suffice to describe a love like theirs. Unless, of course, they're in alphabetical order. (Part 1 of 2)

Author’s Note: This is my tribute to the amazing David Leviathan, and his incredible book The Lovers’ Dictionary. The dictionary format that this fic has taken is not mine, and I use it here in homage to Leviathan.

Furthermore, this is a work of fiction. While it is based on a number of real-life events (filming of Riverdale 1.06, the Antelope Valley shoot, Comic-Con, the SH Hawaii trip, among many others), it is purely speculative, and was not intended to upset or offend.

Thank you to @jandjsalmon and @theatreofexpression for your incredible beta work, and to @stark, @gingerheel, @a92vm and @amab1060 for reading over this at different points and your valuable input.

Read under the cut, or on Ao3. 

aperture (noun)

I wanted to capture you on film the moment I first met you.

The lighting, at least from a photographer’s perspective, wasn’t ideal; you were lit by nothing more than the fluorescent gleam of the lights overhead. There was no natural sunlight in that audition room - just an artificial pallor that made all of us look greyish and pale.

Not you, though.

That day, you were radiance and lustre and fire. Beyond the sudden certainty in my gut that I wanted to look at you for an unusually long period of time, there was something about you that day that drew me in. I averted my gaze - I didn’t want to come off as a creep - but every nerve in my body insisted on the contrary. I ignored them. Reluctantly.

What was it, though, that pulled me under? Perhaps it was your steely conviction, or your absolute, unflinching belief in yourself, both so evident in the way that you kept your head down, your eyes fixed on your script. Whatever it was, it was palpable - glaringly apparent to anyone who saw you (ask Cami. She was there. She knew it, too).

I didn’t photograph you that day. But maybe it’s for the best.

There are some things that are better captured by the unfiltered, evanescent lens of memory.

…

banter (noun)

Should I have been surprised at the rapid accumulation of teasing remarks between us? My underlying, deliberate flirtation and your coy return?

One time, I threw out a joke - a half-insult, really - that would’ve thwarted a lesser being. To see if you would take it. To see how far I could push you.

I wasn’t prepared. You smiled, drew yourself up like a pistol, then roasted me so magnificently that my friends gasped, and couldn’t stop laughing for ages.

I fell so fucking hard for you that night.

…

confirm (verb)

When I sensed the turning of the tide, I FaceTimed Dylan. He was puttering around his apartment, occasionally turning towards his phone, which was propped up on the kitchen benchtop. I asked him when he’d be back in LA.

“Two weeks, if the meeting with the William Vale contractors goes well, otherwise I’ll have to stick around here and push the trip back,” he said. “Why?”

“I want you to meet her.” I cleared my throat. “Lili, I mean.”

At the mention of your name - a name he had heard many a time over the last few months - he turned right around. I stared back at him, hoping that the implication was obvious enough that I didn’t need to elucidate why I wanted him to meet you . My once-mirror image, his hair golden as mine used to be, fixed his eyes on me and nodded sagely.

“Alright.”

That day on the beach, you couldn’t have been more perfect if you tried. You cooed over photos of Magnus. You asked him about the brewery. Your interest didn’t even waver as he segued into an impromptu lecture on how to use squash blossoms to infuse mead. You both discovered an affinity for laughing at my expense, which I didn’t mind (at least not from you; he just likes being a dick).

When you left, he and I hung back at the beach in companionable silence, staring at the horizon while finishing off our beers. He spoke up first.

“So… did you need, I don’t know, my blessing or something?”

I shrugged. “I just wanted to know what you thought of her.”

“You want my honest opinion?”

I sat up. “Yeah. I do.”

He polished off the rest of his drink, then looked at me, his face absolutely deadpan. “Cole, I’m sorry. She’s way too good for you.”

I laughed my head off. “Fuck off, dude.”

“Love you, too, baby bro.”

...

draft (noun)

In my mind, I wrote and rewrote what I was going to say to you. It needed to be heartfelt, but not too sentimental. Articulate, but not overly verbose (as I often tend to be).

It haunted me, the thought of this hypothetical speech.

...

envelope (verb)

It would all prove futile.

I wanted to enrapture you with my words.

Instead, I wrapped you up in my arms.

…

found (verb)

Had I been lost before that moment? Because as I slipped in behind your sleeping form and you tensed for a brief, fearful moment before melting achingly into mine, I felt as though I existed only in the places where our bodies touched, and all the rest of me was smoke.

We fell asleep together on the couch. Actually, that’s a lie - you fell asleep while I grinned stupidly at the ceiling for what seemed like hours. I felt like I was discovering someone new that night. Not you: I was already learning you like most things I’ve learned in my life - passionately, persistently, obsessively.

I was discovering myself. Like a man seeing his reflection in the mirror after months in the wilderness, I was startled by the person I’d become.

He was happy. At peace. And he was falling in love.

...

green (noun)

When I was in college, I took a class on art theory and criticism at Gallatin, where we did a whole two weeks on colour symbolism. Red is passion, anger, lust, love. White is purity, innocence, perfection. Etc, etc. You get the point.

Now, as for green.

“The etymology of green is simple,” my professor - the artist Meleto Mokosi - said as he paced around the lecture room stage. “It comes from the Old English word grene, which has the same root as the words grass, and more significantly, grow. This explains many of our symbolic associations with the colour: nature, energy, freshness and growth.”

He clicked on his laptop and an image of an Egyptian painting filled the large screen behind him. “The Ancient Egyptians, however, were onto this long before Old English even existed as a language. To them, green symbolised more than growth. Its hues painted the face of one of their chief gods, Osiris, the god of the underworld. It represented vigour and health, but more importantly, it represented regeneration. Rebirth.”

How apt. That the fervent green of your eyes was all I saw before I leaned in to close the distance between our lips for the very first time.

I was reborn in that kiss.

…

historical (adjective)

It didn’t occur to either of us to mark the date. We only realised this months later. You were frantic. We need a date, Cole. And I understood that - the need to commemorate, to pay tribute.

But history is more than a timeline, is it not? And it’s more than just facts and people and places. It’s about feel. It’s about zeitgeist. It’s about what the senses recall.

I don’t need a date to remind me of the scent of your skin, the soft pillow of your mouth, the gentle pull of your teeth on my bottom lip, your hands on my chest, your wrists still caught in my grip.

The memory of you transcends chronology.

…

inarticulate (adjective)

Sometimes it’s a look - an upward, innocent glance or a slight, playful glint in your eyes. Other times, it’s the maddening curve of your waist, or the shape you take as you turn off the light and move slowly towards the edge of my bed, your smile palpable even in the hushed darkness.

It’s in those times when you render me - yes, even me - speechless.

...

juxtaposed (verb)

We were driving somewhere. I had one hand on the steering wheel, another on your knee.

“So you went to school to escape acting, and I escaped from school into acting.” Your eyes sparkled as you drew that contrast between us.

I turned to smile at that. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“We were going in two completely opposite directions, essentially.”

“Yep.”

Silence. Then: “Huh.” You let out a rush of breath. “That’s crazy.”

I stole a quick glance at you. “What is?

“Just… that somehow, in the briefest window of time, we met in the middle.”

...

keepsake (noun)

You thought you’d lost it - your white shirt, from the first night you stayed over.

I kept it for a while. I wanted to preserve the memory of its removal.

…

ladder (noun)

A kiss triggered it - the deluge of questions that we had managed to ward off in the haze of each other.

Our first onscreen kiss as Betty and Jughead was supposed to be simple and straightforward. We’d both made light of it in the lead-up to filming. After all, we’d kissed plenty by that point. What’s another one, right?

But on the day, I stood at the bottom of that ladder while Steven, our director, talked me through what he wanted. Slowly, it was becoming anything but straightforward.

“Jughead’s putting himself in a vulnerable place,” he said. “Yes, he summons up the courage to kiss this girl he’s been rapidly developing feelings for, but down here, your character’s still in a place of nervousness and anxiety because he has no idea how the hell this is gonna turn out. It’s a big move for him. The ladder has nine steps on it, but really, the emotional equivalent of what he’s going through spans the distance of a thousand miles.”

I nodded in agreement. The wheels in my head were already turning, anticipating his direction.

“It’s a pivotal scene, and Jughead is driving it. He’s acting out of his own agency, exercising initiative over one of the only areas in his life in which he can have power - his feelings. So I guess what I need from you as an actor is to access that same vulnerability. To tap into your own emotional memory. Is there a place in your life where that vulnerability exists? I want you to go there. Safely, of course.”

So I did. There were plenty of moments in my life in which I’d felt vulnerable, but none of them felt particularly safe to delve into unless I had some sort of epic therapeutic debrief afterwards.

Then I thought of you, and how you made me feel reckless and exposed and exuberant all at the same time. And then it hit me.

I was about to kiss this girl that I was falling in love with in front of a crew of twenty people.

My head started reeling.

Does this scare her as much as it scares me - all the noise that surrounds us?

What if the noise overtakes us?

What if it becomes too much?

What if we crumble under the pressure?

If I wasn’t feeling exposed before, I sure as fuck was feeling it now.

Suddenly the nine rungs leading up to Betty’s room stretched out to infinity, and the journey there felt like a quantum leap.

...

metaphor (noun)

I kind of botched the kiss. You thought I’d forgotten my cue, saying your line (“What?”) twice - the second time, more forcefully - because I probably looked as lost and worried as I felt. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Britta flipping through the script, unsure of what to do or whether it was supposed to play out the way that it did.

But your lips were my ballast in the storm, and as I went in for that kiss, I felt the chaos in my mind subsiding, my vision narrowing to only you. Suddenly, it didn’t matter that we were surrounded by twenty people, with three cameras pointed in our direction, because the only thing that carried weight in that moment was me and you.

I always think of our process for filming that scene as a metaphor for us. Or at least for how I feel about you. We’re constantly surrounded by so much noise, but you are my touchstone for clarity.

In the contented silences of our drives home, I remember this: that you are the quiet in the clamour, the stillness that steadies me.

…

north (noun)

“If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would you be?”

You gave me a lazy smile from where you were lying down, near the foot of your bed. “I’d be right here. With you.”

I rolled my eyes and chortled at that. “Obviously. Besides here.”

You sat up, the sheets bunched around your body. With your hair all messed up and the sunlight hitting you just right, you looked ethereal. “Wait, don’t answer just yet,” I said, grabbing my camera off the nightstand. “Hold that pose for me.”

You kept your eyes forward, away from the lens, already accustomed to the way I worked. “Honestly, how many photos have you taken of me, Cole?”

I snapped a couple. “Not enough.” I put the camera down and crawled over to you. “Okay. Back to the question.”

You chewed thoughtfully on your lower lip. “I’d have to say… Antelope Valley. I’ve never been.”

I scoffed. “Really? That’s like an hour from here, Lils. You could’ve picked, I don’t know, Hawaii or something.”

“Well, Hawaii is such a dream. That’s on my ‘someday’ list.” (I took note of that.) But I like my fantasies accessible.” I smiled and opened my mouth to make a crack about accessible fantasies, but you clamped it shut with your hand. “And please, have a little self-respect, Cole: the joke’s too easy. Don’t even bother going there.”

(Have I ever told you that I love it when you call me out on my shit?)

“Alright then,” I said, taking your hand and kissing your open palm. “Why Antelope Valley? Why would you want to go there?”

“You’ll laugh.”

I shrugged. “Try me.”

“Alright. It’s a little self-indulgent, but… you know the poppy fields up there?” I nodded. “I want to go there, dress up like a fairy princess, and walk amongst the flowers and have my photo taken.”

I smiled. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Your face scrunched up in embarrassment. “Is that... lame? That’s lame, right? Like, total Manic Pixie Dream Girl bullshit.”

“No, it’s actually…” The first word that came to mind was ‘adorable’. Which was woefully inadequate. I felt as though I had to resort to some insanely specific German word, one that meant “an overwhelming desire to fulfill the dreams of a lover, fuelled by intense feelings of warmth and affection.”

Because even then, mere months into our story, I knew that I wanted to indulge every whim and wish of yours. That I would do anything in my power to make you happy.

“You there?” You waved your hand in front of my face.

I turned to you. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

“What?”

“It’s about an hour’s drive up north from here, and you’ll probably have to change there, but I guess you can always—”

You launched into me so quickly that our teeth knocked together, and I’m pretty sure I bit you by accident.

We laughed about it afterwards. Right before you went on to research every fast food outlet and candy store on the route to the valley. Right before I promised myself that I would do this more often - take adventures with you.

…

obsess (verb)

I traced the soft muscles on your back with my hand, the black dress you wore on the day accentuating it perfectly. Unfairly.

“Get in the car,” I whispered.

In the backseat, I followed that same path with my lips - the one my fingers had made - inhaling the scent of the valley and of your skin.

Creating an addiction from which I could never recover.

…

proprietorial (adjective)  

There are unspoken protocols in archaeology about what to do once you’ve found something incredibly valuable. The first priority is obviously protection, and archaeologists take this seriously; some use code words when talking about the found artifact (like “buttons” for gold, or “lemons” for silver) to avoid the constant threat of public theft, while others employ guards around the clock to preserve the excavation site. The more valuable the artifact, the more serious and intensive the protection.

It might be the archaeologist lying dormant in me, but I guarded the secret of us with a fierce protectiveness. Like a treasure goblin clutching its horde, I held on to the intimate knowledge of our relationship, reluctant to impart it to anyone else beyond my family and closest friends.

Because unlike so much of my life that is co-owned by my brother, or has been co-opted by the public, this thing that we had was wholly and completely mine. Or rather, ours. And I wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible.

There’s something sexy in that. In the secrecy. In what is hidden.

In looking at you from across the room, and knowing that no matter how beautiful you looked in that moment, you were still more transcendent in my arms that morning.

…

quell (verb)

“Tsk, tsk. Be careful, dude.” Mad appeared at my side, a cocktail in her hand. The Comic-Con shindig was our last media obligation for the weekend, and it was pleasing to see her there - one of mine and Debby’s friends from LA, and now one of yours, too.

I gave her a look. “‘Careful’? Of what?”

She shook her head and laughed. “Seriously? You have no idea what you look like right now?”

“Well, I am wearing a nifty red suit--”

“I think technically, that colour’s called oxblood.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll stick to red.” Mad rolled her eyes at me. “Besides my nifty RED suit, I haven’t the faintest idea what the hell you’re talking about.”

She leaned in. “Look I’ve known about it for ages now, so I’m not particularly surprised, but when you’re making those desperate bedroom eyes at Lili...” I scoffed dismissively. She ignored me and went on. “When you’re doing that, you’re pretty much broadcasting your relationship to the whole room. Actually, scratch that - to this whole fucking town. ”

I wanted to brush that off, but she may have had a point.

Comic-Con had been fun, but difficult. Both of us knew that we were under scrutiny, and had zero interest in responding to any rumour or speculation that had nothing to do with the show itself.

Even then, with that in the back of our minds, we just barely managed to suppress ourselves from enacting the normalcy of our relationship. Every time I was in your vicinity, I had to pull myself together, because after months of retaining the memory of your skin, I could barely trust myself not to touch you.

So instead, I sought you out in every interview, every crowded room. It didn’t matter where you stood or sat, whether you were close by or seated far away from me: I always found you, and somehow willed you to look my way. I didn’t really need much more than that - just the assurance that you were there was enough.

The party, however, felt different. As my eyes settled on you - as they were now trained to do - my gaze was drawn to others that had you in their sights. Particularly one - a brash industry type who none too subtly shifted course and crossed over to you and Cami.

Usually, I’m a fairly chilled out boyfriend, but it was the end of an insanely busy week, and I was exhausted and in no mood to look at other guys gawking at you. Or, in this case, brazenly chatting you up.

I put my beer down on a table next to me, my body steely with resolve.

Mad read my mind and nudged me sharply with her elbow. “Hey. Friendly reminder that it’s an Entertainment Weekly party.” The implication was clear: the place was swarming with reporters. Technically off-duty, but obviously still tuned in to any whiff of gossip. “You sure you want to do this?”

“Sure,” I said, shrugging off my blazer. “Fuck it. Tell them we were canoodling.”

I could still hear Mad’s bark of laughter as I walked through the crowd, blazer in hand, driven by purpose. Your back was turned; Camila had to tap your arm to get your attention.

You raised an eyebrow at me as you turned around. “Cole?”

I needed an excuse. Anything. “Are you cold?”

“Cold? Um, I guess...?”

I stepped forward and reached around to drape my jacket over your shoulders - a signal, clear as day, for anyone who cared enough to read into it, including this poor, irrelevant fuckboi who had stupidly attempted to launch a flirtatious offensive your way. As he slunk away, I stayed where I stood, inches away from you, uncaring as to who saw us standing that way, that close.

In your eyes mingled incredulity, confusion and delight. What are you doing? Do you know where we are? “Um. Are you okay?”

Was I? All I knew was that I was with you. And I’d been wanting to do just this one thing all night. Because I was tired of the pretence, and I needed my girl.

I leaned in and kissed you, right there in the middle of that crowded room. You went rigid with panic before melting against me, your lips soft and trusting and pliant in mine.

“I’m fine,” I whispered against your mouth. “Never better.”

…

recurring (verb)

Yours or mine?

At the beginning of every weekend, you asked that on the drive home, your overnight bag sitting in the back of my car.

Yours or mine?

I didn’t mind either. My PS4 was at my place, but at least your washing machine actually worked.

(Okay, so mine just hadn’t been used.)

Yours or mine?

From a Friday ritual, it became a nightly one. Until nights turned into consecutive mornings. You’d go home to get more clothes. Eventually, you bought a toothbrush and left it on my bathroom sink.

One day, you leaned over and whispered at the end of a long day at work, I’m tired.

Let’s go home.

...

surprise (noun)

I gave you a sleepy, lingering kiss goodbye before I left for my weekend shoot in LA. Making sure you were still asleep, I adjusted the folded printout of our Hawaii flight itinerary, propping it up on the nightstand, with a Post-it note stuck on top.

“You and me. New Year’s.”

I wish I was there. I wish I’d recorded it somehow, heard the screams that triggered the complaints to building management. As it turns out, all I received was this, a text message in all caps:

“YOU SNEAKY FUCKER I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH.”

...

trick or treat (noun)

“So this washes off, right?”

“For the fiftieth time, Cole, yes.”

You were carefully drawing my skull teeth lines over the thick white base you’d applied to my face. I poked at your stomach. You looked up, close to the edge of your patience. I’d been doing that to you the entire time.

“Yes?”

“Nothing, I just…” I tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “You’re really good at this, you know? I love that.”

I watched as your hard, focused expression softened into appreciation. “Thank you, babe.���

“Also, we can still kiss with this on, right?”

You frowned. “It’ll smudge.”

“But how much are we talking, though? Like full-on smearing, or just a small streak here and there? Because if it’s just a streak, do you think—”

“Cole!”

“No kissing. Got it.”

I shut my mouth, clasped my hands neatly on my lap, the very picture of perfect behaviour. You giggled at the sight.

“Alright, you big baby. Just one more before I have to shade the black in.”

Like a kid being told that he could finally eat all his Halloween candy, I didn’t need to be told twice.

...

uneventful (adjective)

But, in all honesty, so much of who we are dwells in the mundane.

In passing out together on the couch after a long day at work. In the gaps of silence as we trawl through Instagram before settling in for the night. In the text messages compiling the grocery shopping list for the week. In the exasperation as I trip over one of your heels in the dark. In seeing your face dotted with pimple cream. In the arguments over whose turn it was to pick the driving playlist.

Between monotony with you and thrills with anyone else, I’d pick being boring with you. Every single time.  

…

validate (verb)

I rubbed my eyes in frustration and looked at the kitchen clock. 2 am. Fuck. I had an early call time, too.

“Cole?” You came out of the room, bleary-eyed and wrapped in the duvet that you’d dragged off the bed. “You’re still awake.”

“I am.” I swivelled around in my chair to face you. “Everything I’ve taken sucks. It sucks, Lili. I’m sitting here trying to edit my photos, and I’m dying of cringe.”

“Oh, come on. You’re only saying that because it’s two in the morning and you’re your own worst critic. Here, move over.” I shifted a little in my seat as you sat on my lap, duvet and all.

You scrolled through the photos on my laptop. “Okay. Look at this one. See the way you’ve framed Sam here? In the rips of the white plastic?”

“It’s super pretentious, right?”

“No! God, what is wrong with you? It’s stunning. And see how he stands in the landscape, beyond the confines of the plastic? That’s like, a gorgeous metaphor for his process as an artist, how he’s broken free from the mold, how he’s his own man now.”

I sat there silently.

“Oh, and this one? The way you’ve tilted the horizon, and captured the sweep of his trenchcoat, the top hat in his hand? The lines in this are so bold and--”

“Brash?” I grinned at you.

You rolled your eyes. “I was gonna say ‘striking’, but sure, you can go with that.” I hugged you close to me. “Your work is amazing, Cole. Don’t you ever doubt yourself.”

“Thank you.” I kissed your shoulder. “How do you know so much about photography, anyway?”

You gave me a cute little shrug. “I learned from the best.”

…

whipped (adjective)

See: COLE SPROUSE.

...

xenophile (noun)

I thought I was the nerd. But I wasn’t the one who loaned James Michener’s Hawaii from the library and took it out to read on the plane.

It was adorable. But also, it made me want to take you everywhere. To spark your curiosity, to ignite your discoveries, to stoke the wonder.

If there was anyone who could be by your side as you found that the world was your oyster, please, let it always be me.

...

yes (unclassified)

We’re light years away from the fact, but in my idle moments, I imagine it. I imagine how I’d do it - where, and when, and even who might be there.

Maybe our friends. My brother. Your family. Definitely a photographer. In my more delirious flights of fancy, a specially trained pug.

And you. Obviously you. Your hair caught up in the breeze, your eyes widening in surprise before crumpling in the weight of the moment.

Saying yes.

…

zenith (noun)

We stood at the summit, the warm air punctuated by pockets of sea breeze. So many people think of the beach when they think of Hawaii, but - as we found out ourselves - its lush, verdant mountains are just as amazing and sublime.

I held your hand in mine as we looked out over the gorge and at the sea beyond it, the vivid cerulean of the deep bleeding into the viridity of the shallows. There was no-one else around, just us. I pulled you in, holding you in my embrace, relishing being alone with you.

I thought of the year that had passed, and my mind wandered to where I was when midnight struck over to 2017 - running down to the lobby of the William Vale while my brother and our friends waited outside the room we had locked ourselves out of, eating the remains of a pizza off the floor. You and I had tried to call each other to wish each other a happy new year, but in the tangle of signals and the confusion of the room situation, we didn’t make it, settling for a text message instead.

Thinking of the marked contrasts between then and now, a thought began to formulate in my mind - that this was it. That I had hit the proverbial jackpot of fate. Standing there, on the peak of a mountain in Hawaii, holding you in my arms, I had the very best that life had to offer.

But then you tugged at my sleeve and excitedly pointed out a pod of dolphins swimming in the waves, and there and then, I realised that my earlier assumption was wrong. Or at least it wasn’t entirely right. There were surprises around every corner. New heights to be scaled, new adventures to pursue. All of them with you.

“Oh my god, did you see that?” you asked.

I did, Lili. And I saw you. And realised the truth.

Our best still lies ahead of us.

[bloojayoolie]

Being Alone, Andrew Bogut, and Animals: 27233-2 years old, 48 lbs Surrendered due to NYCHA ban Beautiful, young, friendly, affectionate, smart, very obedient, well behaved when home alone, lived in total harmony with a small dog, kid friendly, housetrained (uses wee- wee pads too) td'lanhattan waitina for a famiu & (oye **** TO BE KILLED - 5/10/2018 **** LADY IS A GEM THAT WE CAN'T ALLOW TO BE OVERLOOKED :'( What do you think Lady was thinking when she walked through the doors of the NYC ACC and had to sit and take in the sights and smells of the raucous shelter as her parent talked back and forth with a stranger? Was she her usual shy self, her heart pounding as her parent stood up and headed for the door? Did she try to follow, anxious and scared, only to have the door slammed in her face? Did she think to herself, “You are not mine, but sometimes I pretend that you wish you were…and I often forget it’s just something I’ve made up….you do not want me, and you are not mine.” Did she lose hope? Lady did nothing wrong and everything right – she was a perfect proven family pet who was affectionate, friendly, and playful – a pup who followed you around for love and got along great with the small dog she lived with. She was relaxed, playful and respectful of children, and played gently with adults. She only needed a few minutes to overcome her inherent shyness and warm to new people, and then they were friends for life - no holds barred! There is no one more perfect, or perfectly sweet, and she has a sterling resume to boot – housetrained, knows many commands but her favorite is “give paw,” and she loves slow walks on leash. So please don’t let this stellar girl die. She was short-changed by the NYC Housing Ban that didn’t allow her parent to keep any pet over 25lbs! That’s certainly NOT something she should die over, it’s a cruel and terrible piece of legislation! If you are an experienced foster or adopter in an adult only home, who can be her knight in shining armor, you simply MUST get off your sofa right now and PRIVATE MESSAGE our page or email us at MustLoveDogsNYC@gmail.com for assistance. LADY@MANHATTAN ACC Hello, my name is Lady My animal id is #27233 I am a female gray dog at the Manhattan Animal Care Center The shelter thinks I am about 2 years old, 48 lbs Came into shelter as owner surrender May 6, 2018 Reason Stated: Landlord won't allow (NYCHA) Adult Only Home Lady is at risk due to fearful behavior displayed in the care center. She has been observed to lunge and growl at unfamiliar handlers but will allow interactions with a few select people. Medically there are no concerns for Lady at this time. My medical notes are... Weight: 48.2 lbs Vet Notes 9/05/2018 DVM Intake Exam Estimated age: Reported 2 years - exam is consistent with this Microchip noted on Intake? Scanned neg - MC placed History: Surrendered. No health concerns reported. Subjective: Walks well on leash. Observed Behavior - Slightly timid - jumps around and tenses up easily. Pt did not become stressed with muzzle placement, and allowed most handling with bear hug restraint. Evidence of Cruelty seen - None Evidence of Trauma seen - None Objective BAR-H, MMs pink and moist, BCS 5/9 EENT: Area of alopecia with central linear scab (8 cm long) caudal to AD - no discharge or erythema. Eyes clear, ears clean, no nasal or ocular discharge noted. Oral Exam: Muzzled. Incisors are clean. PLN: No enlargements noted H/L: NSR, NMA, CRT < 2, Lungs clear, eupnic ABD: Soft, non painful, not distended, no masses palpated U/G: Female, no vulvar discharge or mammary masses. MSI: Right front foot - 4th digit - the pad is very large and extends around the nail. The toe and pad are normal in color, texture and firmness to the surrounding toes. Ambulatory x 4, skin free of parasites, no masses noted, healthy hair coat. CNS: Mentation appropriate - no signs of neurologic abnormalities Rectal: Normal externally. Assessment: Small scab caudal to AD - does not appear infected Prognosis: Excellent Plan: Spay, adopt SURGERY: Okay for surgery 1088 Details on my behavior are... Behavior Condition: 2. Blue Behavior History Behavior Assessment Upon intake, Lady was anxious throughout intake. She was pacing and panting. I had client collar and leash. Lady walked with counselor. While waiting for kennel Lady growled at people that got to close to her. Date of Intake: 5/6/2018 Basic Information: Lady is a 2 year old, female, large breed dog. Client had lady since she was 2 months and unfortunately had to surrender her due to living in NYCHA. Lady has no known health issues and was last at the vet 6 months ago. Previously lived with: 2 adults, 1 small dog How is this dog around strangers?: Lady is shy for a few minutes around strangers. She plays gently with adults. How is this dog around children?: Lady has spent time around children and she is relaxed playful and respectful with them. How is this dog around other dogs?: Lady lived with a small dog and she was relaxed, affectionate and playful with her. She played gently with her. How is this dog around cats?: lady has never spent time around cats. behavior is unknown. Resource guarding: Lady is not bothered when her food or toys are touched but she will growl when you try to take or touch her treats and bones. Bite history: Lady has no bite history. Housetrained: Yes Energy level/descriptors: medium to high Other Notes: Lady isn't bothered when she is pushed or pulled off of furniture, disturbed while sleeping, held or restrained, given a bath and having paws touched. She is friendly when unfamiliar people approach owner and will bark when someone knocks on the door. Has this dog ever had any medical issues?: No Medical Notes: Lady has no known health issues upon intake. For a New Family to Know: Lady is described as friendly, affectionate, and playful. She is very obedient and loves to play with her rope toys and chew on her bones. She will follow you around when you are home and is indoors only. She sleeps on doggy bed and eats blue buffalo dry food. She is house tried and will go outside and go on wee wee pads. She is well behaved when left alone and has never been crate trained. She knows the commands sit, come, stay, and give paw. She gets slow walks on leash and may pull lightly. She has never been walked off leash. Date of intake: 5/6/2018 Spay/Neuter status: No Means of surrender (length of time in previous home): Owner Surrender (In home for 2 years) Previously lived with: Adults and a small dog Behavior toward strangers: Shy Behavior toward children: Relaxed, playful, and respectful Behavior toward dogs: Relaxed, affectionate, and playful with the dog she lived with Resource guarding:: Yes, Lady will growl if her treats or bones are touched. Bite history: None reported Housetrained: Yes Energy level/descriptors: Lady is described as friendly, affectionate, and playful with a medium-high level of activity. Date of assessment: 5/9/2018 Look: 1. Dog's eyes are averted, with tail wagging and ears back. Allows head to be held loosely in Assessor's cupped hands. Sensitivity: 1. Dog stands still and accepts the touch, eyes are averted, and tail is in neutral position with a relaxed body posture. Dog's mouth is likely closed for at least a portion of the assessment item. Tag: 1. Dog assumes play position and joins the game. Or dog indicates play with huffing, soft 'popping' of the body, etc. Dog might jump on Assessor once play begins. Paw squeeze 1: 3. Dog closes mouth, becomes stiff. Paw squeeze 2: Item not conducted Flank squeeze 1: 1. Dog sits, mouth open or lip long. Flank squeeze 2: 1. Dog sits, mouth open or lip long. Toy: 1. Minimal interest in toy, dog may smell or lick, then turns away. Summary: Lady approached the assessor with a soft body. During squeeze, she became tense when her paw was touched, so flank was used. Summary: The previous owner of Lady has described her behavior around other dogs as "relaxed, affectionate, and playful" with the dog she lived with. Future introductions should be conducted at a very slow pace, to respectful dogs. Lady may benefit from time to decompress outside of the care center before immediate introductions to other dogs. Summary (1): 5/8: When introduced to the helper dog on leash, Lady does not approach and instead turns away from the interaction. 5/9: When introduced off leash to the male greeter dog, Lady is initially fearful and tucks away from approach. Once acclimated, she displays brief bouts of play behavior, bowing and bouncing. Date of intake: 5/6/2018 Summary: Lady was anxious and growled at people who came close to her. ENERGY LEVEL: Lady is described as having a medium-high level of activity. We recommend long-lasting chews, food puzzles, and hide-and-seek games, in additional to physical exercise, to positively direct his energy and enthusiasm. IN SHELTER OBSERVATIONS: 5/8: Lady has been observed to lunge and growl at unfamiliar handlers through the kennel. She has allowed handling from select, familiar staff members, at times soliciting and accepting petting. When approached by unfamiliar handlers outside of her kennel, Lady becomes tense and begins to hard bark at times. BEHAVIOR DETERMINATION:: ADULT ONLY HOME Behavior Asilomar: TM - Treatable-Manageable Recommendations:: No children (under 13) Recommendations comments:: No children: Due to Lady lunging, barking, and growling at people in the care center, we recommend an adult only home. Potential challenges: : Resource guarding,Fearful/potential for defensive aggression,On-leash reactivity/barrier frustration,Kennel presence Potential challenges comments:: Resource guarding: Lady is reported to growl if her treats or bones are touched. We recommend that Beatty be left alone while eating, and that food guarding behavior modification steps (available at ASPCApro.org) be utilized if this behavior is problematic in his future home. Nothing should ever be taken directly out of Lady's mouth, and any time something is removed she should be rewarded with a high value treat or toy. She should be taught the "drop" cue and trade-up games. Fearful/potential for defensive aggression: Lady is fearful at the care center and has barked and growled at new people. In her previous home, she was described as shy with new people. It is important to always go slow and give Lady the option to walk away from any social interaction. Lady should never be forced to approach anything that she is uncomfortable with or to submit to petting or handling. It should always be Lady’s choice to approach a new person or thing. Lady would do best in an initially calm and quiet home environment and should be given time to acclimate to her new surroundings. On-leash reactivity/barrier frustration: At the care center, Lady has been observed to react to human passerby on leash, lunging towards them, barking and growling. Lady may need positive reinforcement, reward based training to teach her to look at you rather than novel stimuli that may startle her. We recommend a front clip harness or head halter to help manage this behavior. Kennel presence: Lady reacts to new people who approach her kennel, barking and growling. While we cannot be certain if this behavior will appear in any other contexts, in highly emotionally charged or stressful environments Lady may show behavior similar to what she is currently demonstrating in her kennel. We recommend potential adopters be comfortable managing this behavior and keeping themselves safe in any similar future situations. * TO FOSTER OR ADOPT * If you would like to adopt a dog on our “To Be Killed” list, and you CAN get to the shelter in person to complete the adoption process *within 48 hours of reserve*, you can reserve the dog online until noon on the day they are scheduled to die. We have provided the Brooklyn, Staten Island and Manhattan information below. Adoption hours at these facilities is Noon – 8:00 p.m. (6:30 on weekends) HOW TO RESERVE A “TO BE KILLED” DOG ONLINE (only for those who can get to the shelter IN PERSON to complete the adoption process, and only for the dogs on the list NOT marked New Hope Rescue Only). Follow our Step by Step directions below! *PLEASE NOTE – YOU MUST USE A PC OR TABLET – PHONE RESERVES WILL NOT WORK! ** STEP 1: CLICK ON THIS RESERVE LINK: https://newhope.shelterbuddy.com/Animal/List Step 2: Go to the red menu button on the top right corner, click register and fill in your info. Step 3: Go to your email and verify account Step 4: Go back to the website, click the menu button and view available dogs Step 5: Scroll to the animal you are interested and click reserve STEP 6 ( MOST IMPORTANT STEP ): GO TO THE MENU AGAIN AND VIEW YOUR CART. THE ANIMAL SHOULD NOW BE IN YOUR CART! Step 7: Fill in your credit card info and complete transaction Animal Care Centers of NYC (ACC) nycacc.org HOW TO FOSTER OR ADOPT IF YOU *CANNOT* GET TO THE SHELTER IN PERSON, OR IF THE DOG IS NEW HOPE RESCUE ONLY! You must live within 3 – 4 hours of NY, NJ, PA, CT, RI, DE, MD, MA, NH, VT, ME or Norther VA. Please PM our page for assistance. You will need to fill out applications with a New Hope Rescue Partner to foster or adopt a dog on the To Be Killed list, including those labelled Rescue Only. Hurry please, time is short, and the Rescues need time to process the applications. Shelter contact information Phone number (212) 788-4000 Email adoption@nycacc.org Shelter Addresses: Brooklyn Shelter: 2336 Linden Boulevard Brooklyn, NY 11208 Manhattan Shelter: 326 East 110 St. New York, NY 10029 Staten Island Shelter: 3139 Veterans Road West Staten Island, NY 10309 Available Animals Thank you for your interest in adopting from Animal Care Centers of NYC. Our At Risk List is posted each day (except Saturday) at 6:00PM and remains viewable until 12:00PM noon the following day. newhope.shelterbuddy.com