#needing a statement for her parents i went mm.

[mifunebooty]

Hey hi yo wassup

[miyaagis]

oikawa is a handsome man, there’s no denying it. he might be twice your age but his trademark charm never fails to lure you in. too bad he’s your dad’s best friend

+ pairing. oikawa t. / fem reader

+ word c. 2,730

+ warnings. age gap, alcohol, mild degradation, mindbreak, noncon filming, squirting, watersports, mating press, one (1) slap in the ass, u call him uncle but he isn’t, so pseudo-cest? no beta we die like men

+ author n. my piece for the miki mouse whorehouse collab ♡ three weeks late, yes

the mid-afternoon sun burns above you, your exposed skin glowing under its blaze as you try to ignore the bickering of your dad’s friends.

oikawa’s playlist blasts through the speakers, the one with latin songs and that he’s been listening to since he went to argentina (according to uncle makki). you hum along with the beat unconsciously, so close to dozing off that you miss the sound of the approaching steps.

“a drink for the princess.”

flirty brown eyes meet yours through the tinted glass of your sunglasses, his handsome smile making your heart skip as you sit up and take the cold drink from his hands.

oikawa takes the seat next to you, handing his phone over to you to let you choose the next song. his fingers trace the rim of his beer bottle as he watches you type something on the screen before leaning back against the chair.

“my dad will yell at you for giving me alcohol,” you peer up at him, taking the straw between your lips.

he takes a long sip of his beer in hopes of calming down the myriad of thoughts swirling in his mind. it’s sinful how the wet fabric of your swimsuit clings onto your form while you lie under the sun—unbothered. but it’s even worse how the star of those thoughts it’s his best friend’s daughter.

“you’re an adult, you’re allowed to have fun.”

you scoff, “tell him that.”

iwaizumi has never been a strict parent but he likes to play the overprotective dad role every once in a while.

“he’s your dad. it’s kind of his job,” he tilts his head in his friend’s direction, his stare serious before switching into a playful one, “and mine is to be the cool uncle.”

you can’t help but snort, “who said you were cool?”

oikawa fake gasps at your statement, but his posture immediately tenses up as uneasiness takes over his body. 

he doesn’t have an idea when it all started, or when did the playful banter between you two turned into this unbearable sexual tension. many nights he has been haunted in his dreams by your cute but taunting smile, poking fun at him until his lips land on yours, and kissing you until you’re reduced to a pathetic whimpering mess.

“–kawa you asshole!”

hanamaki’s voice snaps him out of his trance, both of your heads turning to look at said man as he scolds matsukawa for spilling his drink on the table.

“don’t stay under the sun for too long,” oikawa suddenly stands up, shooting you a forced smirk, “or you’ll get wrinkles.”

you stick your tongue out at him and watch him walk away, staring at his back while a silly smile settles on your lips.

—

the sun has already set when you make your way inside.

you ignore the two drunk men passed out on the couch as you look around for your dad, but when you fail to catch sight of him, you decide to take a look in the kitchen.

oikawa’s shirtless back greets you, his muscles bulging under his tanned skin as he seems to be struggling with a bottle of wine.

“you’re doing it wrong.”

he immediately halts his movements and turns to look at you, “i’m sorry?”

you smirk, “you’re forgiven.”

he scoffs at your little joke, but when you see the hint of a smirk tugging his lips upwards you know he’s enjoying it as much as you are. with a push of your hips, you shove him aside and grab the corkscrew from his hands.

“this, is how you do it.”

he leans on the kitchen counter with his elbow as he observes you do your thing, “you’re being too awfully cocky lately.”

“not my fault you can’t open a wine bottle the right way,” you shrug before smiling triumphantly once it's open, taking a swig of the bottle.

it’s probably the way your eyes gleam under the dim lights, or how your lips look plump and glossy after drinking the wine. either way, the words leave oikawa’s mouth before he can think twice.

“oh? care to tell me what else i don’t do the right way?”

you watch as he takes the bottle from your hands and takes a sip, “you’d be surprised. i know more than what you may think.”

“i doubt it.”

“try me.”

the words hang in the air, the hidden meaning begging to be addressed but you stare at each other in silence, your chests heaving up as you wait for the other to make a move.

“do you know what’s been on my mind lately?” he’s the first one to break the silence, his figure looming above you while his hand moves to rest on your hip.

your breath hitches as you shake your head. gone is the playful gleam in your eyes, his stare feeling as if he’s a predator and you the helpless prey.

“you.”

he pauses, gauging your reaction while you feel your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

“oi!” 

you both jump at the sound of your dad’s voice. iwaizumi stands behind you with his car keys on hand, exhaustion evident in his posture.

“they’re hammered, i’m going to drive them home. you need a ride?”

the question’s directed at oikawa, who’s suddenly feeling like a deer caught in the headlights.

did he see anything? he wonders. but the tired look in his best friend’s face lets him know he doesn’t suspect a thing.

“nah, i’m good,” the odd look iwaizumi sends his way prompts him to come up with an excuse, “i’ll clean up and then i’ll be on my way out.”

on a normal day, iwaizumi would’ve refused. but if he could escape your mom’s wrath after the mess they made, then he’d take it in a heartbeat. good thing she’s out on her casino night.

“thanks, man. see you around.”

you both watch as he exits the kitchen, the tense atmosphere remaining even after hearing the front door close behind the three men.

you can’t help but deflate a bit, sensing the ‘moment’ between you is gone.

“where were we?”

your eyes widen and refuse to meet his, choosing to fiddle with your fingers as you repeat what he said earlier in a small voice, “you said… you said you were thinking of me.”

oikawa has to stop himself from cooing at your nervousness, humming instead as he takes one step in your direction.

“mhm, all day,” his hands snake around your waist to pull you flush against him, “i’ve been thinking about fucking you.” 

a small gasp leaves your mouth, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“you enjoyed teasing me, didn’t you? parading around in that slutty swimsuit of yours with your tits spilling out of your bra?”

he hauls you up by your waist and places you on the granite counter, settling himself between your legs, “i could see your nipples getting hard, begging to be kissed,” one of his hands leaves your waist and moves upwards to pinch your nipple. he can’t help but coo at the faint whimper that escapes your lips, “hmm, so cute.”

oikawa’s lips connect with yours, his other hand holding you by the back of your head while the other keeps rubbing the hardened nub. once his tongue glides into your mouth, breathless moans fill the kitchen.

“a-ah, uncle tooru,” you run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer.

he starts to make his way down, kissing your neck and collarbone before he reaches your chest. his teeth graze your hard nipple, toying with it while a large hand moves down between your legs and pushes the fabric covering your pussy aside.

two long fingers prod between your folds, sliding in easily and making you groan.

“naughty girl, so wet already,” he rasps in your ear, throat dry at the sight of your wet folds.

the wetness dripping from your hole immediately coats his digits, making it easier for him to tease your insides. the pads of his index and middle fingers curl upwards to touch the soft walls, massaging them in slow movements.

“mm, fuck–” it’s exhilarating how good he’s making you feel just with his fingers, pulling moans so effortlessly out of you.

“feels good, hm?”

“yes, yes, so so good–” your head falls limp against his shoulder, your hands resting on his biceps as you try to hold onto something, “please… faster.”

the pace of his hand picks up while his thumb brushes over your clit, watching you lose yourself in the pleasure. his cock hardens at the filthy sounds of your pussy sucking his fingers in and your wanton moans.

“so needy,” he murmurs, a breathless chuckle falling right in your ear, “be a doll and cum for me. will you? c’mon, baby. i know you can do it.”

your grip on his shoulders tightens, his encouraging words awakening something in you that has you cumming right after. warmth floods your body as you chant his name desperately, the friction of his finger against your clit prolonging your high and making it difficult to catch your breath.

it takes you a minute to recover from the daze, his body-heat overwhelming you and fogging up your mind.

it’s not until he takes his fingers out of your dripping core and has a taste of your juices when he truly feels the lust take over him.

oikawa immediately picks you up from the kitchen counter, your legs wrapping around his torso as he blindly makes his way to your room.

his mouth moves hungrily against yours, your bodies occasionally colliding against the walls since you refuse to let go of each other. once you reach your bedroom, he pushes the door open and places you on the bed, climbing on top of you and latching his mouth onto your neck.

“baby, i need to– hmm,” the roll of your hips against his front causes his cock to twitch in his shorts, “need to fuck you.”

your eyes close when he moves your bra down and starts sucking on your nipple, one of your hands tangling in his hair and pushing his face onto your chest.

“want you so badly, please.”

“don’t worry, princess. i’ll make you cum again, so many times, and fill your needy cunt with my cum,” he murmurs against your chest, his tongue gliding over the sensitive skin while he rolls his hips against your core, “you’re gonna be a good little slut for me, right? bounce on my cock like a bitch in heat?”

you have never heard something so filthy leave his mouth, the promise of another orgasm sending a jolt down to your center.

“y-yes, i’ll do whatever you want! just please, fuck me.”

“yes, what?” his eyes glint with malice as he looks down at you, waiting for you to reply.

“yes... sir.”

a captivating smile graces his lips as he moves up from your chest to your face, his mouth hovering right above yours, “good girl.”

before you can process his words, he flips you on top of him, his hands going straight to your ass and squeezing the flesh. you notice the hardness underneath you and you have to stop yourself from bucking your hips against it.

with a tap on your butt, he signals you to lift your hips, taking off his shorts and turning to the side to place them somewhere. but in your drunken state, all you can focus on is on the cock in front of you, the flushed head glistening with pre-cum and causing your mouth to water.

he’s turning around when you wrap a hand around his girth, making him jolt under you before you lift your eyes to stare back at him.

“patience, baby. i’m not going anywhere,” he chuckles at the same time you rub his cock between your folds. his eyes stare intensely at you, watching you coat him with your juices before aligning him with your hole, “shit, i wish i could watch you like this forever.”

“you can have me whenever you want, sir. i’m yours.”

his cock parts your lower lips as you start sinking down, the vein on the underside of his shaft rubbing deliciously against your walls until he’s bottoming out. his hands rest on your hips, letting you get used to the stretch before he starts to rock you back and forth, slowly.

“feels so good… m-more.”

strong arms wrap around your waist, bringing your torso down until your breasts are pressed against his chest. his thrusts become intense, making you squeal as his laugh reverberates in his chest. he slaps your ass with one hand, groaning when your walls clamp down around him.

“tightest cunt i’ve ever fucked,” he groans.

“h-harder, fuck me harder,” you plead and, in a matter of seconds, he’s ramming his cock into you just like you asked. the friction of his length against your insides makes you dizzy, your mind wandering to how would it feel to be filled with his seed, “god– ugh, want your cum.”

“hm? my pretty little cumslut wants to milk me dry?”

he pushes you up as he slows down his pace, whines leaving your mouth in frustration. oikawa helps you bounce on top of him, his pelvic bone brushing against your swollen clit which causes your orgasm to approach faster than expected.

“‘m so close,” your rhythm falters, hips moving back and forth desperately in search of that delicious friction, “gonna cum, sir. please, make me cum.”

oikawa’s grip on your hips tightens, one of his hands moving down to your clit and rubbing it in fast circles, “shit– so tight,” he moans when you clench your muscles around his cock, feeling it twitch inside of you, “fuck, fuck, i’m cumming!”

he barely manages to rasp out before warm spurts of cum paint your walls, his cock throbbing against them while he keeps moving in and out of your hole. you follow suit, your pussy trembling around him as you both ride out your orgasms.

his cock visibly twitches once it's out of your cunt, lying flat on his stomach while white cum slowly drips on top of it. spreading your asscheeks, he stares at your glistening cunt and watches your juices coat him before flipping you onto your back. his entire weight rests on top of you, caging you in a mating press and entering your raw walls again.

“s-sir, no more! ‘m too sensitive– ah,” your legs are shaking at the overstimulation, his cock reaching so deep that you can feel it nudging at your cervix.

he grunts as he keeps thrusting into you, his balls slapping against your ass while you try to fight him, “one more, baby.”

“i-i can’t! no, no, no, please...” your nails dig in his muscles, a futile attempt to get him to slow down.

the slapping of skin on skin is loud, your cries encouraging him to drill harder into your pussy until he’s flooding it with his thick cum.

“shit, princess. of course you can. isn’t this what you wanted? you’re such a slut for me, i’ve known it all this time.”

you know you want to cum, but another tingling feeling settles on your belly and, after a perfectly directed thrust from his part, you gush around his cock.

“holy shit.”

everything seems to stop around you, drooling and babbling nonsense as you’re sent into a high that leaves your mind floating, your body growing limp under oikawa as he continues to fuck your hole until he’s filling it again.

the euphoria stops you from noticing when he pulls out, also missing how he remains above you with his softening cock in hand and pumping it slowly. a groan escapes your mouth when a sudden warmth soaks your sweaty skin, making you close your eyes and bask in it.

“fuck, baby,” he angles his cock in your direction, allowing his piss to pour down onto your ruined pussy and down your bedsheets, “look at you, my pretty little slut.

your craving for him was so powerful that you failed to notice the phone standing on your bedside table, angled directly at you. even when familiar moans blare through its speakers after oikawa picks it up, smiling down at it as he readies himself to enter you once more.

taglist. @newfriendjen @tsumue @cyb3rbab3​ @lets-go-datehoe @kageyamakock @oneholetickler​ @idiotgu​ @kageyama-i-want-tobiors​​ 

[watchmegetobsessed]

Grammy Winner Husband - Harry Styles

a/n: okay, yall know im a suckr for dad content and i just needed to write this little fluffy thing. also MY BABY IS A GRAMMY WINNER IM SO PROUD OF HIM and also, Sarah and Mitch are gonna be parents???? my heart can’t take all this *sigh*

pairing: Husband!Harry / Dad!Harry x Pregnant!Reader

word count: 1.3k

masterlist

“Congratulations once again, Harry. This Grammy looks great on you,” the interviewer compliments the grinning man who still very much feels like he is in a dream and his phone could start ringing anytime, ending this ethereal feeling of becoming what was only a dream when he was just a boy.

“Thank you,” he cracks a humbled smile.

“How are you gonna celebrate? Popping all the champagnes?”

“Honestly?” he sighs. “I just really want to kiss my wife, that’s gonna be my celebration,” he chuckles shyly, making every woman close to him swoon at his sweetness.

He accepts all the congratulations, the little shiny golden award weighing in his hands, not letting it out of his sight as he makes his way to the back to change his outfit back to something casual instead of the bold statements he has been making all night with his boas.

“Good night, Harry. Tell Y/N I said hi!” Sarah runs a hand down his back, grabbing his attention immediately. She’s gotten rid of her leather bodysuit as well, wearing just jeans and an oversized t-shirt, but her bump is making an appearance in it regardless. Mitch is holding his girlfriend’s other hand, their bags occupying his other as he smiles back at Harry with proud, shining eyes.

“Good night, you guys. Drive safe and thank you for tonight.” Harry pulls her into yet another hug, careful not to hold her too tight.

“Good night, see you soon,” him and Mitch share a quick hug as well, patting each other on the back before stepping back. Sarah’s hand runs down her belly, an instinctive motion Harry has seen quite often lately and not just from her and it reminds him how badly he just wants to get home to you finally.

While most performers and winners are probably out for some celebrations, champagnes must flow all directions, Harry quickly loads his things in his car and heads home to the one person he would ever want to celebrate with. It’s late, way past midnight by the time he arrives home and he has a guess where to find you.

Being the angel that you are, you left the lights on for him so he doesn’t have to blindly make his way to the bedroom. He kicks off his boots, drops his bag to the couch in the living room, placing the award on the dining table before padding down the hallway, the muffled sound of the TV and the strobbing lights of the screen still on in there, illuminating the doorway. He pushes the door that’s ajar open more, his smile immediately widening as he sees you curled up under the sheets, the TV remote still in your hands, your phone lying on the pillow next to your head while you’re fast asleep.

You swore you wouldn’t have problem staying up this late, but Harry knew it was not gonna happen, especially because ever since you’ve reached your third trimester bedtime was moved to seven o’clock, no exceptions.

Harry takes a second to adorn the beauty he has the luck to call his wife, before he quietly tiptoes into the bathroom connected to the bedroom to quickly wash up and get ready to his way of celebration: holding his pregnant wife in bed, falling asleep smelling your shampoo and maybe feeling a few tiny kicks under his palms.

Following a speedy shower he brushes his teeth, washing away the taste of that one glass of champagne he allowed for himself, he has been very restricted when it comes to alcohol ever since you found out you’re pregnant. Partially because he wants to take solidarity with you, having to say no to a good wine whenever you’re out for dinner, or a beer you occasionally drank with him while watching a movie. But he also feels like alcohol would just take away memories from his brain he wants to cherish forever.

Lifting the covers he tries to slip into bed next to you as gently and quietly as possible so you don’t wake up, but the moment the mattress sinks in under his weight, your eyes flutter open, blinking up at him sleepily as you register what’s really happening.

“Oh shit, you’re back! I really wanted to be awake when you arrive!” you pout at him as his arms curl around you, pulling you to him gently, his smiling lips pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“It’s alright, baby. I know how tired you always are.”

“Yeah, but my man won a fucking Grammy! I wanted to jump at you the moment you walk in,” you giggle, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck. “I’m so proud of you, baby. Congrats!”

“Thank you,” he smirks blushing softly. He is still not used to the title he has earned today.

“You looked so hot on stage, that leather suit was awesome,” you grin, cupping his face, turning it towards you so you can see his bright, shining eyes.

“Yeah? You liked it?” he shyly asks, his finger grazing on your belly, tickling you a little in hopes the little one inside is still up, or went to sleep just like his mommy. “Mm, loved it,” you grin, pulling him down for a sweet kiss, one he was waiting all night to finally get. “And I love you.”

“Love you too, baby,” he hums against your lips, his palm coming to connect with your bump. “How are you feeling?” he asks, nuzzling his nose against yours.

He knows how this third trimester has been on you, the swelling and back pains killing you but you never complained as much as he knew you could have. He admired your strength all through this pregnancy, from the way you handled morning sickness, all the mood swings and changes in your body to the point where you are now carrying a literal watermelon at this point, having left only three more weeks until the baby arrives.

“I’m good, a little hungry maybe, but what’s new,” you chuckle.

“You want me to make you something?” he asks right away, ready to get out of bed to make you a sandwich or bake you cookies even if that’s what you wanted. But you push him down back shaking your head at him.

“It’s fine, I can wait until the morning. I just want to kiss my Grammy winner husband stupid right now,” you grin before leaving a sloppy kiss on his chest, chin, nose and finally, his lips. Pecking your lips a few times he makes you lie on your back as he slides down and pushing your shirt up, his adorning eyes fall to your belly, hands coming to gently cup it.

“Hey there, little one,” he murmurs as he leans closer and kisses your stretched out skin just above your belly button.

“He hasn’t moved in a while, think he’s asleep,” you smile, fingers running through his curls as you watch him pepper your belly with more feather-like kisses. Harry has been ecstatic since you found out you’re having a boy, though he would have been just the same if it was a girl.

“S’alright, I’m just gonna wish him goodnight,” he smiles, pressing his cheek against your bump before he kisses it one last time, pulling the shirt back down over it. Climbing up he pulls you back into his arms, knowing how much you like being held normally, but since you’ve fallen pregnant, you’ve become especially cuddly, which he doesn’t mind a bit.

“I love you, H. So proud of you,” you huff, feeling your eyes closing. Harry grabs the remote and turns the TV off, placing it to his nightstand along with your phone before kissing the top of your head.

“Love you too. Thank you for being here for me,” he huffs, the smile never leaving his lips. He has never felt happier and more complete ever in his life.

“Always,” you whisper before drifting back to sleep.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 21 - Nowhere to Run [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, blood, nightmares.

Word Count: 4300

Summary: Everyone needs a shelter.

For all your life, your sister had always said she hated watching horror movies with you because you would always criticize every character and their choices in the movie.

Who would even stay where they were when they knew there was danger outside, when they knew there was something coming for them?

You had never thought you’d learn the answer first hand;

Because there was nothing else to do, and because that was exactly what you were doing.

Spencer and the rest of his team had sent you away from that basement so that you could get some fresh air and at least attempt to get away from the greeting written on the wall with blood but you knew it was impossible.

There was no running away from that, you had seen it already.

You dangled your legs off the pier back and forth, keeping your gaze on the lake that looked so calm that it was almost like a painting. Funny, you hadn’t ever stopped to enjoy it when you were still a child, you had never actually sat there on the pier to take a breath, wrapped in the safety that would soon disappear.

The footsteps coming closer pulled you out of your thoughts and you turned you head as Spencer sat down next to you.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you croaked out and he ran his fingers through his curls.

“Do you want me to take you home?”

You shook your head, “I’m not sure what home is for me at this point, to be honest with you,” you murmured, “Besides I heard the other agents talking, you guys are going to be pretty busy the moment the rest of your team gets here.”

He heaved a sigh, biting inside his cheek but you kept your gaze on the lake.

“It makes it official right?” you asked, “All these murders…It’s not really about my father’s legacy. It’s about me.”

He stole a look at you, “Y/N…”

“It’s okay professor,” you said, “Trust me, I’m not going to run and scream.”

“The profile is changing constantly with every piece of evidence-“

“Spencer.”

He let out a breath, pursing his lips.

“It is pointing that way so far,” he muttered, “It doesn’t matter though. His legacy or an obsession with you, we’re still going to catch him.”

A silence fell upon you and you cleared your throat, pointing at the woods on the other side of the lake.

“Mina and I used to play the princess and the monster over there,” you said, “I mean… It was either me who was the princess or Mina and I were saving some imaginary princess because Mina wanted to be friends with her.” You used air quotes, “I don’t know whose shock was more fake when she came out, mine or mom’s.”

He let out a small laugh, “Yeah?”

“Mm hm, and right over there,” you pointed at the right, “Linc chased me with a worm in his hand to scare me off, and I ended up falling into the damn lake.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Then Mina pushed him into the lake too and we all got grounded for the whole weekend.” You let out a breath and pointed back at the cabin with your thumb, “And right there, dad showed me how to kill someone for the first time.”

His head shot up, “What?”

You scoffed, “He didn’t tell you that during those sessions?”

Spencer shook his head, frowning.

“He taught me…” you wetted your lips, “How to- how to hunt, that’s what he called it. Predator and prey. After teaching me how to analyze places to find a weapon, he taught me how to find my way in the woods. Just in case. He used to um-“ you cleared your throat, “I don’t really remember all of it, I don’t know how much of it are nightmares or memories, but I remember once he dragged me here in the middle of the night, and he opened the door and there was this man…”

“Petal honey, don’t get so close to him,” your father called out from the kitchen he sharpened the knife as you took a step closer to the man who was gagged and bleeding profusely, still whimpering on the floor. Even in the dim light you could see the look of terror on his face and your heart skipped a beat as you turned your head to look at your father.

“Daddy, he-“ you shifted your weight from one foot to other, “Maybe we can just leave him like this. He’d be dead by the morning.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he asked before getting closer to you, flipping the knife in his hand and the man started yelling through the gag, but it was muffled. Your father extended his hand, motioning at the huge teddy bear you were hugging closer to your chest and you bit on your lip, then handed him that.

“You can get the teddy back after you answer 3 questions right, you know the rules,” he told you, “Alright, if I wanted him to die quickly, where would I stab?”

“Jugular.”

“Where’s the jugular?”

You pointed at the man’s neck, “There.”

“Good. What if I wanted him to suffer for hours with just one stab wound?”

You paused and scrunched up your nose, forcing your mind for the information before you looked up at him.

“In the stomach,” you said, “Stomach acid hurts.”

He thought for a second, then handed you the teddy back.

“Good job honey,” he said and walked to the man with the knife in his hand.

“I couldn’t do anything,” you pressed your lips together, “For hours and hours he tortured him and when we got back home, I went to bed and the next morning I wouldn’t stop shivering, I kept throwing up and my mom thought I had the flu so we ended up not coming to the cabin that weekend. I know how he—” you clicked your tongue, “I know how he pretends to be a normal guy. During those interviews, that documentary, even in those sessions with you he keeps pretending like he’s normal, but I know him. I know the real monster and I…”  you sniffled and cleared your throat, “Profiler or not, you have no idea what he’s capable of. He put me through actual hell, Spencer. No wonder I can’t remember half of this shit, I think I’d lose my mind if I did.”

“Y/N…”

“I didn’t stop him.”

He frowned, “How old were you?”

“Seven.”

“You couldn’t have stopped him even if you wanted to,” Spencer told you, “You were a child.”

“I could’ve told someone,” you murmured, looking at the lake, “I could’ve done something.”

“You were a child,” he repeated, “Children trust their parents, okay? You know it as well as I do that he’s a master at manipulation. Whatever he has done, it’s not your fault.”

“I doubt those bodies in the basement would agree with you,” you managed to say and let out a humorless chuckle, “Besides, I’m my father’s daughter, remember? You told me so yourself.”

The impact of your words would’ve been surprising if you weren’t so distracted by your own misery. He pulled back as if you had just slapped him, his hazel eyes searching your face and he swallowed thickly, opening and closing his mouth like he was at loss for words.

“I didn’t mean—” he paused, shaking his head “Y/N, that wasn’t the truth.”

You grabbed the cigarette out of your purse and lit it, dangling your legs back and forth over the pier.

“It’s fine,” you shrugged your shoulders, “You’re not the first person to think that, and weirdly enough, you’re not the first ex to think that either-“

“That’s not what I think,” he insisted, “Nothing about you even suggests that you’re anything like him, behavior or psychological wise. I just wanted to—“ he hesitated for a moment, his jaw clenching, “Hurt you back.”

You tried to smile, still keeping your gaze on the lake as you exhaled the smoke.

“Congratulations professor, you’re pretty good at that.”

A silence fell upon you both as you twirled the cigarette between your fingers.

“I’m sorry,” his voice was so gentle that you turned your head to look at him, “I really am. I never should’ve hit below the belt, not like that.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Y/N.”

“No really,” you insisted, “I don’t want to talk about that anymore, I’m just so—“ you closed your eyes for a moment “God, I’m just so tired Spencer. You have no idea how tired I am.”

“I know.”

“And it just doesn’t end,” you murmured and opened your eyes, “Right? I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in months now, and everything is getting so out of my control.”

“It will end soon.”

“But we don’t know that,” you insisted as almost a hysterical laugh escaped from your lips, “Do you want to hear the worst part? I don’t think this feeling will ever go away. At this point, I don’t even remember how it feels like not to be afraid.”

He heaved a sigh, then looked over his shoulder when Luke approached you two.

“Sorry guys,” he said, shifting his weight, “But um- Reid, we need you in there.”

“Can’t someone else-“

“Don’t,” you shook your head as you stood up and dusted off your jeans, “Seriously. Besides, the sooner you catch this guy, the sooner…I don’t know, the sooner things go back to normal, whatever that means.”

“You can’t just drive home like this.”

“I’ll drive her,” Luke said, making you turn your head,

“Dude, aren’t you needed here too?”

“I’m going to go back to help out Rossi,” he said, “Not all of the team has to be here, I mean-“ he nodded at Spencer, “We’ve got our genius here, he’s got it covered. I can take the babysitting duty.”

“No pastries for you anymore.”

“I would like to rephrase my statement,” he said quickly, making you smile before you shrugged your shoulders.

“Alright then, let’s go.”

“Y/N-“ Spencer started but you shot him a look.

“I’m fine,” you said, “Go do your Sherlock stuff, professor. Solve the case so that I can start planning weddings again instead of hanging around creepy cabins. I’m just gonna go home and get drunk, so you’ll probably get a voicemail or two from me, just saying.”

“Can’t wait,” Spencer smiled softly and you followed Luke to your car, then handed him the keys and got in the passenger seat. He started the car and you slipped a little in the seat, leaning your knees on the dash.

“How are you holding up?” Luke asked you and you heaved a sigh.

“I feel like I’m in a horror movie to be honest with you,” you muttered, “Who the fuck writes on a wall with blood, I mean like who are you, Michael Myers?”

“I didn’t mean the case,” he stole a look at you and you raised your brows.

“Ah, that,” you said, “Well, I don’t have a bff that sets me up with people in night clubs, so there’s that.”

He hissed in a breath, “Garcia told you.”

“Mm hm,” you looked out of the window, “No hard feelings, don’t worry. I dated lots of frat boys back when I was in college, so I’m very familiar with the bro code.”

“You dated frat boys?” he made a face and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Yeah I started from the bottom and worked my way up to the genius back there.”

He chuckled, “I take it you still haven’t told him you threatened a serial killer because he happened to threaten him?”

“I would’ve done the same for anyone.”

“Bullshit.”

Your jaw dropped, “I let you drive my car and this is the thanks I get, Alvez?”

“Okay trust fund baby, I’m driving you home, you’re not doing me a favor.”

You let out a small laugh, “Eh, I’m not that bad.”

“Your sister threatened a whole police department using lawyers.”

“They had it coming,” you said and he cleared his throat.

“If it makes you feel any better, it was an actual fiasco.”

Your head shot up and you turned to him, “Hm?”

“That whole thing with Reid. He’s not over you.”

“He will be,” you murmured, “Eventually.”

“Do you want to hear why it was a fiasco?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s an exaggeration-“

“He spent the whole night talking about you,” he cut you off and your jaw dropped, “Yeah. More like, she asked him about his job and he mentioned the case, then talked about you and how you couldn’t be the killer for hours. For a second, I thought he’d go up to the DJ booth and start broadcasting from there.”

You could feel the warmth spreading through you, but you nibbled on your lip, trying to ignore it.

“I really hurt him Luke.”

He stole a look at you from the corner of his eye.

“I know,” he said, “That’s pretty clear. I don’t know which one is worse, that you hurt him or that it doesn’t seem to change anything on his part.”

You could feel the burning in your eyes but you slipped a little in your seat and kept your eyes on the road.

“Yeah,” you murmured, “I don’t know which one is worse either.”

                                                   ***

The worst thing about nightmares?

There was no escape from them, and no amount of booze could make them go away.

You woke up to your own scream and leaped out of the bed so fast that you got caught in your sheets and fell on your face, your ears ringing. You could feel the bile burning your throat, so you covered your mouth and rushed to the bathroom to throw up into the toilet, barely aware of the sobs rocking your body. You wiped at your mouth and stood up on shaky legs, then brushed your teeth, still breathing hard.

You were there again, in that graveyard with your father, but this time you couldn’t brush it off as just a nightmare.

It was way too detailed, way too familiar to be a nightmare.

You wiped at your forehead and washed your face with ice cold water, desperate for some sort of a relief and leaned over the sink, closing your eyes for a moment.

“Fuck this shit,” you rasped out to yourself before turning the tap off and raised your glances to look in the mirror.

Well.

You looked exactly like how you felt.

You still didn’t trust your legs but still managed to leave the bathroom, Making your way to your bedroom was more than enough to give you goosebumps, but you snatched your phone off the bedside table. You almost dropped it because of how badly you were trembling with fear, but managed to hold it tighter, found his name in the contacts and took the phone to your ear.

He answered immediately.

“Hello?”

“Spencer, hi,” you said, still taking deep breaths, “I um… I had this- this nightmare and I- I need to talk to you. Can we meet somewhere?”

He hesitated for a moment, “Are you okay? Why are you breathing so fast?”

“Not a panic attack,” you wiped at your nose, “Not yet anyway.”

“Okay, I’m still coming over-“

“No!” you cut him off, then licked your lips, “No I can’t…. I can’t stay here right now, I need to get out of here. Can we please meet somewhere or-or-“

“How about my place?” he asked and you heard the unmistakable clinking of keys, “You can’t drive like that, I’ll come and pick you up, wait there-“

“No I’ll just take a taxi.”

“Y/N.”

“I’ll take a taxi, just send me the location,” you told him and hung up, quickly got dressed, got into your coat, then went downstairs when your taxi arrived. You still felt like you could throw up again, but the cool air coming from the open car window helped as the driver started the car after you gave him the location.

There was a beauty in the city at night, especially in chilly nights like these. The small raindrops falling down your face offered some kind of a small comfort while you tried your hardest to ignore the images flashing through your mind, taking a deep breath, letting the cold air fill your lungs. You leaned your head to the open window, closing your eyes and letting the noise of the city drag you out of your own mind.

By the time the taxi pulled over, you were almost lost in your thoughts and only when the driver let you know that you were there you opened your eyes. You paid him, and looked up at the building before making your way inside.

It was almost strange how you hadn’t seen his apartment when you two were dating, but now here you were.

After the break up. At three in the morning.

You wiped at your nose and fixed your hair before you knocked on the door and tried to control your breathing, but that felt way too difficult. As soon as he opened the door, everything you had planned to tell him in your head disappeared and you looked up at him in complete silence for a couple of seconds, you had almost forgotten how he looked when he wasn’t in his work clothes. A warmth filled you, the urge to rush into his arms taking over you but you managed to fight the urge and stepped into the apartment, desperately searching for the right words.

“I had that nightmare, again.” You turned to him as soon as you entered the living room, stumbling over your words, “That graveyard nightmare, but Spencer I think it wasn’t just a dream, I think you were right and it was a memory and there was someone else but I can’t see a face and—“

“Y/N.”

“And I think we were there because of me because it all just connected, we were at that graveyard and he was actually digging a grave and I can remember the face of the victim but not—“

“Sweetheart, breathe.” he approached you in three long steps and his warm hands cupped your cheek so that he could look at you better, “I’m here, I’m listening, okay? Just breathe and tell me. Slowly.”

You swallowed thickly, looking up at him.

“I had that nightmare again,” you managed to say, “But I think that’s a memory.”

“Okay,” he nodded, “How?”

“Because at the graveyard, dad told me something,” you said, “He was- he was digging a grave, and he said, Remember, you’re not supposed to make them bleed if you can’t kill them. And I remembered when that happened, back at the cabin, during the training, I… I untied one of the victims and pretended like he got out of them somehow.”

His hand slipped a little so that he could brush his fingers over your neck, almost soothing you.

“It didn’t work,” you shook your head, “As soon as he got out of the cabin, dad hunted him down and dragged him back into the cabin, he had lost way too much blood to make a run for it. Spencer, that’s a memory, not just a nightmare.”

“There was another person with you? At the graveyard?”

“He took the victim to the graveyard later on, but yes. There was someone, I just…I can’t remember who,” you heaved a shaky breath, “You need to tell the team-“

“We’re already checking the graveyards within the driving distance to the cabin, I told them today.”

You blinked a couple of times, “Did you?”

“Yeah,” he said and his eyes searched your face, “You’re shaking.”

You tried to smile and wrapped your fingers around his wrist, running your thumb over his warm skin, “It’s cold out there.”

You were lying, he knew you were lying and you knew that he knew, but neither of you commented on that. He hesitated for a moment before he pulled you closer to him, letting you bury your face into his chest as he held you tight and you inhaled his scent, closing your eyes.

He was right earlier. This was an addiction.

“Were you sleeping?” you muttered into his chest before you pulled back to look up at him. He scoffed and shook his head.

“No,” he said, “I was working on the case.”

“You really need to sleep.”

“It’s ironic to hear that from you,” he pointed out and that made a smile warm your face.

“Ah but I did sleep,” you said, “I just woke up because of the nightmares. It still counts as sleep.”

“I doubt that,” he said and you turned your head before you started walking around the room.

Spencer’s apartment was more or less what you imagined, to be honest. Contrary to yours, it was darker and obviously older. The wooden desk was covered in papers and books, there was a library by the corner of the room almost stacked to the brim, and overall it reminded you so much of him that just being in his apartment made you feel-

Safer. Better. Calmer.

“Lovely place,” you commented as you approached the library to drag your fingertips over the cracked and old spines of the books and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him shift his weight.

“Yeah it’s not- it’s not like yours but I like it.”

“Not like mine?” you looked over your shoulder and he cleared his throat.

“Mm hm.”

“I like it better than mine,” you said and he frowned,

“Why?”

“It looks like someone is actually living here,” you motioned around and he tilted his head.

“Is that a good thing?”

“It is,” you said, “I mean I can see….you in here. I can’t see any part of me in my apartment.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, “My mom has this person who designs her houses, she designed my apartment too. It’s pretty but it’s just not me I guess. It’s kind of sad when you think about it.”

He hummed, his eyes watching your every move and you pulled a book from the shelf, holding it up so that he could see the title.

“You don’t strike me as a Petrarch guy,” you tilted your head, “Are you?”

He raised his brows and stole a look at the book in your hand.

“I do not pray, since there is no purpose, that my heart should ever burn less fiercely, but only that she might share part of the fire.” he recited and your jaw dropped before you pouted.

“I hate bluffing with you,” you commented, making him chuckle and you stifled a yawn while turning the book in your hands.

“You can’t work for the whole night if you have a guest.” you gestured at the wooden table and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I won’t if my guest promises she’ll try to sleep.”

“I don’t like this deal.”

“That’s the deal you’re getting,” he said and you clicked your tongue, then walked to the center of the room and sat down on the floor before you lied down.

“I have a bed, you know.”

“I don’t want to get comfortable and fall asleep yet. I want to enjoy this more.”

“Enjoy what? Lying on the floor?”

You shook your head and kept your gaze on the ceiling, the dim light of the apartment and lights from the outside creating shadows there.

“I don’t have that…mind numbing fear right now,” you managed to say “I want to make it last. It’ll come back when I wake up tomorrow, trust me.”

He looked like he wanted to argue with you, then heaved a sigh and sat down on the floor as well, leaning his back to the leather armchair. You tossed him the book and he caught it mid-air, shooting you a quizzical look.

“Read me your favorite,” you said and he smiled slightly.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’ll help me get out of my head, and it might help you….ignore the fact that your night club date was terrible, apparently.”

He raised his brows, “Luke told you?”

You tried to stop your smirk, but it was impossible,

“Yeah he did,” you said and bit inside your cheek for a moment, “Thank you though.”

“For what?”

“For believing in me.”

His gaze on you was gentle, “I wish you would believe in yourself too,” he told you, “You’re not what he tried to turn you into.”

You dragged the tip of your tongue over your lip.

“Spencer?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think we should move on?”

He took a deep breath, his brows furrowed in thought.

“Yeah,” he murmured, “We probably should. But do I think we can move on? I don’t think so.”

You nodded slowly, that burning in your eyes getting even worse as he turned the pages until he found what he was looking for, then cleared his throat and started reading.

“I have offered you my heart a thousand times

O my sweet warrior, only to make peace

with your lovely eyes: but it does not please you

with your noble mind, to stoop so low.”

You smiled to yourself, painfully aware of why he picked that one, then closed your eyes, his voice washing over you.

“And if some other lady has hope of it,

she lives in powerless, deceiving hope:

and it can never be what it was to me,

since I too disdain what does not please you.”

Chapter 22

[poptod]

A Special Kind of Attention (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: The young Prince, who you are in the employ of, enjoys playing pranks and generally tormenting you.

Notes: pretty heavily implied male reader, but its still gender neutral! if you ever wanted to dom ahk, heres your chance to live vicariously through your imagination. ahk has some major bde in this fic WC: 3.6k

*- this is a reference to a wellknown myth at the time. basically, its saying he should stick cum up his ass (and thus label himself a bottom)

+

No matter how much sweat had gathered on the back of his sun-burned neck, he comforted himself with the fact that this would be, in the end, very much worth the work. Below his clinging hands, the bag sloshed with well water. He had passed by you earlier in the morning, as you stood guard outside the city gates, your attention unwavering from your duty. The sight of you followed by a well brought an idea into his head, and he decided seeing you drenched in water would be a fun activity.

He'd done worse before, to be fair––always to you, never to any of the other soldiers, and certainly not any civilians. By now you must've grown some deep seated resentment for him, but you never let it show. That was part of the fun––seeing just how far he could go before you lost it.

Keeping his back pressed to the wall of the entrance, he snuck up behind you, careful to keep slow so the swishing water didn't give him away. With one great heave, he moved to the tips of his toes and dunked the bag over your head, sprinting off with maniac laughter as you shouted, yanking the bag off just to see him disappear. From a distance he watched how your skin glistened, and how he could very nearly see through your clothes.

Unbeknownst to you but known to him, you would see each other later tonight––the  soldiers were being rotated again, meaning the soldiers by the Nile were to protect the palace, and the palace soldiers would take over observation of the outer markets. Ahk grinned to himself, imagining you looking over dinner. It wasn't often that he got to see your behavior in front of the Pharaoh, but each time was such a treat, watching you keep perfect posture and composure as he teased you any way he could imagine.

That night, he eyed you from his seat at the long dining table. You were positioned in front of the entrance of the hall, opposite another soldier, whose name he didn't care to remember. As always you kept your chin high, eyes trained on a distant wall.

He stared for as long as he could, and when at last your own gaze wavered to meet his, he winked, biting his lip with a smile. You turned away immediately, flushed with warmth.

"You're quiet this evening," said the Pharaoh, his attention directed to Ahk, who turned with wide, surprised eyes.

"Apologies," Ahk said as he returned to his dinner. "I did a lot of studying today, so my mind is a little... flighty, right now."

"I didn't see you in the library," Kamun said, raising a single, accusatory brow.

"I went to Osiris' temple to practice my handwriting," Ahk returned curtly, a quick and succinct statement that was as effective as it was fake.

"Good man," his father said with a smile. "Taking initiative. Why don't you ever do that, Kamun?"

Kamun, the eldest brother, seethed in his spot but said nothing. He was the least charismatic of the four brothers and also the most dedicated, which was an unfortunate combination for a man as prideful as him. All the work he did was brushed away, always dulled out by his younger brothers' accomplishments, yet he very rarely mentioned his own anger in front of his parents. No, most of the time it came out when Ahk was alone.

That was how you found him after dinner; his face shoved against the coarse wall, arm twisted painfully high behind him. Kamun had a knee in his back, keeping him pinned there.

"Admit it was a lie, brother," the elder hissed, readjusting his grip on Ahk's head to bang it harder against the stone.

"Go stick a head of lettuce up your ass*," Ahk said, laughing at his own joke until Kamun knocked his head against the wall again, a hollow thud coming from his skull.

You cleared your throat and both their struggling ceased, the two parting from each other.

"Good evening, my Princes," you said quietly, stepping nearer till you faced them both. The muscles in the back of your hand rippled as you strengthened your hold on your spear.

"Hello," Ahk said dully as Kamun stormed off, his hands balled into fists even when he disappeared around the corner of the hall.

You watched as Ahk rubbed at his sore arm, massaging away the strain.

"You know, he wouldn't do that if you weren't such an asshole to him," you said offhand, looking down at his injury with an unimpressed expression.

"Why are you nice to me then?"

"If I wasn't, I would get my head chopped off," you reminded him.

"Oh," he grumbled. "Right."

"I'm sure you don't need an escort to your room. Good night," you said, turning to leave before a hand grasped your upper arm, whirling you back around.

"He knocked my head pretty hard," he said with a dazed, shit-eating grin you knew all too well. "Might need some help."

You very nearly groaned audibly, but you managed to keep it behind your lips. He was just trying to get a rise out of you, was all––besides, this wouldn't take long, and you would be able to retire to your quarters, which had recently been moved into the palace. You comforted yourself with that thought as you silently walked down the halls.

Ahk being shorter than you did little to make you feel less humiliated. Actually, it only worked to make you feel worse, being bossed around by someone both younger and smaller than you. You supposed that was how most people felt when children were made Pharaoh.

"So," Ahk began, his hands behind his back, "how's your day gone?"

"Someone threw a bag of water over my head that disturbed several of the market stalls, and many merchants got angry. So we had a tussle outside the city," you recounted blandly, your eyes straight ahead despite the wealth of expressions coming from the man beside you.

"Sounds like someone made your day interesting," he said along with a smile, neither of which you replied to in any way.

By the time you made it to the double doors of Ahk's bedroom, your grip on your spear was so tight you were surprised it hadn't snapped in half yet. You helped him open the doors, weapon still in hand, and kept the doors open as he stepped inside.

"Good night, m-"

"It's still early, why don't you join me?" He asked, tilting his chin upwards with a cocky look in his eye.

"I really should -"

"Come," he ordered, beckoning you over.

Again you bit the inside of your cheek, and followed him in, letting the door slowly swing shut behind you.

"You want to know something I admire about you?" Ahk said as he wandered into his room, leaving you in the middle while he searched his bookcase.

"What's that, sir?" You asked, despite not wanting to know in the slightest.

"You've got quite the resolve," he said, turning back to you with two chalices and one jug. "Haven't seen it break yet."

"Well, I was trained in Thebes, sir. They're thorough with their teachings."

The prince handed one of the cups to you, pouring red wine that sloshed and bubbled as it landed in the goblet. He filled his own glass before setting away the jug. With that he clinked his cup against yours, the empty tink ringing in the silence. He drew a long sip, his eyes trained on yours, and remaining so even as he lowered his cup.

"Tell me about your family," the Prince said.

"I'm not sure how that's relevant to anything."

"Come now, you know all about my family--"

Who doesn't, you thought.

"––and I think it's only fair I know something about yours."

"Do you ask this of all your soldiers?" You asked as you took another sip of red wine.

"Just the handsome ones," he replied, stepping closer with a cheeky, lopsided grin.

"I don't think I need to remind you that you shouldn't be fraternizing with your employees," you said flatly.

"Mm, you're good at deflecting questions, aren't you?"

"I'm good at staying focused."

"Still... what's going on with your family that you're ever so reluctant to share anything about them?" He asked, taking another step towards you, that you now combated by taking a step backwards.

"... my sister got deported recently," you said, breaking from his gaze to look to the floor beside you. "I don't have any family besides her."

"I thought you were an Egyptian citizen?"

"I am. She isn't. She was born down south, a few years before I was born here, in Memphis. Our parents died a little while back but they would've been deported too."

"She is older than you though, isn't she? I'm sure she can take care of herself," Ahk said as he swirled his cup.

"Yes. I know."

For politeness's sake you stayed a moment longer, took another swig from your cup, before setting it aside.

"If you don't need me, I should be getting back t––"

"Oh, but I do need you," he said, stepping closer, "if you don't mind."

You stumbled as your back hit the closed door behind you, feet fumbling to regain what balance you'd lost.

"Of course... sir," you said in a monotone voice, keeping your rushing adrenaline below the knot in your throat.

The younger prince had always been a bit eccentric––stories from your coworkers and various palace dwellers had told you so. He generally did whatever he wanted, but his parents doted on him dearly, and he got away with just about everything. While it seemed a little unfair to not do the same for the eldest child, you did notice that while both siblings were passionate, Kamun was passionate in a more violent way, while Ahkmen was passionate in an undeniably flirtatious way. In the short amount of time you'd spent guarding the corridor for Ahk's room, you'd seen three different people sneaking out of his room multiple times. You had a responsibility not to become one of them.

Ahkmen circled you, stopping in front of a floor-length mirror that casted his reflection perfectly.

"My manservant got sores from work yesterday, so I sent him home early. But," he met his own gaze, "these clothes are near impossible to take off without help from another. Do you mind?"

Though the expression on your face remained a mute, dull expression, you could feel the flame burning in your cheeks. Your heartbeat pounded even in the ends of your fingers, wrapped around your spear.

"... no. Of course, my prince," you said, your voice strikingly low and rough.

A pleased smile stretched across his lips as you approached, setting your spear aside against a wall. To be fair, he did genuinely need help––the beaded collar on his shoulders was latched far behind his back, and if he tried to reach it, he might tear the sleeves or break the collar. You reached for the tiny latch, pulling and releasing the two you found.

"There's one more, bit further down," he said, still watching his own reflection. You caught your own eyes peering over his shoulder, their dark sternness piercingly depressing beside the Prince's golden colors.

With a deep breath you pushed aside his long cape, calloused fingers reaching for the last latch. You accidentally brushed against the skin of his back, hot against your cold hands, which he certainly felt judging by the way his posture straightened and he sucked in a sharp breath.

"There," you said, stepping away. "Done."

"Thank you, dear," he said as he reached up, sliding the collar off his shoulders, his cape drifting off with it.

Sleeves soon followed and the whole of his chest was bared, graced by dark freckles and the golden bands still circling his thin wrists. You watched, unaware of your own staring, as he began to tug at his belt, pulling it off his hips. His skirt sagged, exposing his hips carelessly in front of you. Something as little as a deep breath had you shaking ever so slightly.

"Is that it, my Prince?"

"Here," he said, handing you his collar, and the attached cape and sleeves.

Golden fabric piled onto your arms, soon followed by his belt, golden wristbands, and the crown on his head. It was a good deal heavier than you would've imagined, and you wondered if it ever hurt.

Your thoughts on the crown were ripped away from you, leaving your mind a blank, empty expanse the moment his skirt fell to the floor. If he noticed your stupor, he didn't say anything. Instead he simply gathered up the cloth and handed it to you, padding nude to his desk, upon which he opened a box made especially for his gold wristbands. He pulled them off, leaving him blank of identification.

As he turned, he finally caught your eye, but couldn't keep it for long. Your eyes darted back to the ground, wide with the morbid feeling stewing in your head and chest. He chuckled.

"You can set those in my wardrobe," he said, stepping towards his bed and kneeling upon it.

You dutifully obeyed, trying to get a grasp on your shaky breathing before you had to turn and face him again. Folding and taking care of clothes was absolutely not one of your skills, but you tried your best, and eventually returned to stand in front of the kneeling Prince.

He wasn't terribly muscular, more lean, but you could still see thin muscles peeking through the dark skin. Along his clavicle were two freckles––similarly, long eyelashes led to the freckles lining his cheekbones, still dusted with an earlier blush. There was no denying he was a handsome man, though that was no excuse to give into such urges. You could hardly admit to your own desires, much less act on them, which kept you from moving at all.

"A little while ago you informed me that you have no partner," he said softly, still looking you directly in the eyes.

"Yes."

"Is that still so?"

"Yes," you said. "I like to keep to myself."

A touch against your exposed thigh had you jerking backwards, a strangled grunt coming halfway out your mouth.

"No one will have to know," he murmured, dragging his touch up your sensitive skin, long untouched for most of your waking years.

Your first instinct was to pull away, which you did do at first, but the flat expanse of his palm pressing on your thigh had you rooted to the spot. Most everything in you froze, shock and surprise filling your head. Still, you tried to keep a calm expression, and gave little away.

"Is this what you wanted?" You asked.

His grin just widened, teeth digging into his bottom lip and pulling till it released, soft and red.

"Why am I your victim in all your... hijinks?"

"Well," he chuckled, "you're awfully pretty, and you won't pay any attention to me if I don't."

Seeing as you weren't struggling, he took to pulling on your belt, shifting back on the bed to make space for you. Your lack of movement was no invitation, but he must've taken it as such. One harsh tug had you stumbling forward, balancing yourself with one knee on the mattress, your hands open to catch yourself.

"Sir, I am not permitted –"

"Shhhhh," he hummed, his hand moving lightning fast to catch you by your chin, pulling you closer yet till your noses nearly touched. "Your Prince asks this of you."

The slightest movement from him––eyes fluttering shut, neck craning forward––and he was kissing you, plump lips moving as soft as rose petals against you. Warmth gathered everywhere, growing in your breath, in your moving lips, building and building till the tension became nearly too much. You tried to move backwards, oversensitive and overstimulated. But the Prince wouldn't let you––he simply held you tighter, dug his hands into your hair, and pulled you forward so forcefully you landed on top of him, your weight meeting his heat.

That heat was recognizable even through the material of your skirt, pressing against your hip. As unfortunate as it was, you could feel your own excitement growing within you, sending warmth to your face and your thighs.

"Fuck," you mumbled, mostly to yourself, when Ahk finally let you breathe.

"What?" He asked softly, petting your hair as he did his best to keep you close to him. His legs wrapped around you, the hand on your cheek keeping you facing him.

"I told myself I wouldn't do this," you said, still quiet and gruff.

"So you expected this?"

"I knew it was a possibility," you said flatly.

"Good," he said with a smile you couldn't quite understand. "That means you're prepared for this."

Before you could ask what he meant, his feet were pushing your skirt down your hips, the white linen quickly dropping to the floor. You didn't do the knot as tight as you should've this morning.

"Ahkmen ––"

"Mm, I like that," he said, grinning sly as ever. Your expression contorted with confusion, so he continued with, "I like when you say my name."

Very rarely did you ever refer to any of the royal family by their first name. Technically you could call the Pharaoh by his Horus name, but simply calling them by their status had always been easier than remembering names.

Your shock once more worked to your demise, or at least the demise of your self respect. The young prince flipped you over while you were unaware of yourself, pinning you to the bed with his hips sat on yours, directing your hands to circle his waist as he kissed you deep once more. A muffled grunt came from you, fingers instinctively digging into him.

I'm being seduced by a Prince, you thought miserably. I feel like I should be happier about this.

"I want you to use your mouth on me," he mumbled between rough kisses, taking what pleasure he wanted from you. "Wanna see what that quiet tongue can do."

He reached down to stroke his own length pressed against your stomach, leaking and hard from the tension he'd grown. Your breath caught in your throat again, unable to dislodge itself as you stared, mesmerized by the pulse of his chest and hum of his soft moans.

"Can you do that for me?" He asked as he began to grind against you.

Holy fuck, you thought, wide eyes taking in his entirety. You could finish from his begging alone.

You gripped his hips, and in one, swift movement he was beneath you, his hand returning to touch himself. Before he could properly do so you batted his hand away, stalking down the bed till your face rested above his twitching hips. You kept his eye the whole time. 

Wet already began to seep to the edge of your tongue, waiting for you to finally meet his cock. The arrogant young prince had you right where he wanted you, where you had tried so hard to avoid, and where he now kept you of your own free will.

The flat of your tongue ran a long stripe up him, drawing from him a long, relieved sigh. His head fell back, one of his knees kinking upwards. You watched his reactions carefully, kissing wet spots all up and down, catching whatever dripped down. On the prominent veins you sucked a little harder, making him hiss and his back arch upwards. Every movement he made you lapped up like you were starved.

Fingers soon dug into your hair, pulling and tugging whenever you graced his sensitive spots. Soon, ready for his lack of control, you wrapped your lips around the head, gently pulling and sucking with your tongue as you began to sink deeper.

"Fuck," he said emphatically, running his fingers through the locks of your hair before tugging hard.

Soon his cock nudged the back of your throat, stopping there as you tried to swallow him down. Twice you tried unsuccessfully, but as you calmed yourself, you could feel him thrust deeper yet into you, forcing into the back of your mouth and cutting of your breath. You moaned, albeit quite muffled, from the sensation. The hand on the back of your head kept you in place as he thrusted upwards, moans tumbling from his mouth as he used you.

Caught in his hold, you did your best not to gag, dutifully swallowing around him and breathing when you could. He grew steadily faster, with less rhythm and more force shoving into you. Your hands gripped his hips to hold yourself up better, but even as you tried to pull away, tears stinging your eyes, he kept you there, locked away in the throes of his own pleasure.

Your nose remained pressed to his hip as he came, a long, sweet trail of moans following what spurted into the back of your throat. With no give to pull yourself off and no possible way to open your mouth further, you swallowed what you were given.

The burning pull on your hair soon released as well, allowing you to sit up and away from the young Prince. He was still panting, his gaze cast lazily upwards, and hands gathering in his own messy hair.

"I got a little carried away there," he mumbled, his eyes slowly closing. "I apologize for that."

"Don't worry," you said as you grabbed his hips, pulling him close to you and flipping him over. By pulling him up on his knees, you shoved his head onto the mattress, the force of it drawing a gasp from him. "You'll make up for it."

[loveofshows]

A Pirate and the Prince

I might do another part of this but for now, enjoy!

---

Kara laughed as she raced through the streets. The shouts from the guards and the townspeople only fueled her laughter.

She hasn’t meant to get caught; she never really does. But they needed supplies and she was getting a little angsty on the ship. So, without so much of a word to any of her crewmates, she snuck off the ship and went to town.

She knew she was wanted; she was one of the most famous captains to sail the ocean.

She just wasn’t expecting to see so many wanted posters around town. She had gotten the last thing on her list and was nearing the castle before a guard noticed her and called for others. She was just glad she had enough time to send a message to the others.

Oh, Alex was going to be so mad.

“Halt!” a guard shouted. She looked back and gave them a bright smile.

“Don’t think I will!” she teased. She turned a corner sharply. and ran into someone. She

staggered back, blinking as she looked at the person she ran into.

He was wearing the royal colours and Kara could only assume he was part of the royal family.

Querl stumbled back and blinked at the woman in front of him. She was dressed like a pirate and there was something familiar about her that he couldn’t place. Before he had the chance to say anything to her, a voice rang out, “she’s over here!”

“Guess that’s my cue,” she said. Without thinking, Kara grabbed Querl’s hand and started running. Querl stumbled a little until he could keep pace with her.

“Quick! She has Prince Querl!” She heard the guard tell. Kara raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. The two of them kept running and it felt like they weren’t getting anywhere.

“Here, this way,” Querl said, pulling Kara to the right. She followed but pointed at the dead end.

“I know,” he said as he looked around. When he was satisfied that no one was watching, he pressed a brink.

Kara watched in surprise as part of the wall became a door. Querl pushed it open and pulled her inside before closing it.

“Great, now we cannot see,” Kara complained. Querl covered her mouth and shushed her. Kara only glared but did as he asked. When he knew she wasn’t going to make any noise, he dropped his hands and only then noticed how close he was to the pirate captain.

He could see the beauty of her blue eyes and noted she saw a lot and wondered what the stories told. He noticed the crinkles around her eyes as she smiled and found himself wondering what it would be like to make her happy.

The sounds of footsteps coming their way shook Querl out of his thoughts. They listened quietly as the guards stopped in front of the wall. “They were here!” someone yelled.

“But you have to admit, that Captain Danvers sure is something,” another guard said wistfully. Querl’s eyes widened when he finally had the name to the face in front of him. To say he was surprised was an understatement.

“Oh shut up,” another said, and judging by the clanking of the armor, they could only assume that the guard who praised Kara was pushed.

“They couldn’t have gotten far,” another said, bringing the conversation back on track. “Split up, we can’t lose them.” They began running again and soon it was quiet.

“Nice hiding place,” Kara said once she knew they were alone. “Now what do you suggest we do?” Querl didn’t answer and felt along the walls until he found a torch. He lit it and gestured for Kara to follow. With no other option, she did.

“Didn’t expect the crown prince to help a wanted criminal,” Kara noted after walking for a while in silence. Querl shrugged, looking at her from the corner of his eye. She was walking a little way behind him, the passageway too small for the two of them to walk side by side.

“When you’re already defining the Queen’s orders of staying within the castle walls. One can only add more to their defiance.”

Kara quirked an eyebrow, impressed. “So,” she started looking around the dark tunnel, “I didn’t know the town had secret tunnels around it.”

Querl hummed in thought. “Only a select few know of them,” he answered. “I stumbled into one by accident when I was ten, and I use them if I want to sneak out of the castle.”

“Do the guards know about them?”

“No, but I suspect that they will return to the castle and inform my mother about my situation,” he said as an afterthought. “She knows about the tunnels, and if she isn’t busy, she’ll come down here herself to find me. So, we have to hurry to your destination.”

“She’ll be worried about you, won’t she? I mean, they probably think I’ve kidnapped you or something.” Querl snorted and looked back to give her a look. “What?”

“You practically did kidnap me,” he answered, “you took my hand and ran forcing me to follow you.”

“Okay, yes that may be true,” she agreed, but pointed at him to emphasize her point, “but you could have let go at any time. Instead of doing that, you helped me escape and you still are. So that makes you a criminal.”

Querl shook his head but didn’t fight her on that, she did have a point. Kara beamed and celebrated her victory in silence.

“You’re wrong you know,” Querl said after a few moments of silence. Kara hummed and turned her attention on him in confusion, he sighed keeping his eyes forward. “About my mother. You’re wrong, she won’t be worried about me. Father might, but Mother wouldn’t. She’d be more worried about the heir to the throne more than my wellbeing.”

Kara stayed silent, unsure what to say to that. She couldn’t understand what he must be feeling.

She had parents who loved and cared about her and not the title she held. Even when she ran away and became a pirate, they still loved her. They made sure of that.

“I’m sorry,” was what she said instead. Querl shrugged and that was the end of that conversation.

They walked until they reached a crossroads causing Querl to stop and turned to her. “What?” she asked.

“Where is it that you wanted to exactly?”

“I thought you knew,” she said and shot him a grin when he gave her a pointed look. “The docks. That’s where my ship is.”

“You’re a wanted criminal and you still dock your ship where everyone can see it,” Querl questioned though it sounded more of a statement. Kara shrugged, studying each path wondering which would lead to the docks.

“What can I say? I love living on the edge,” she said and her smile grew. Querl raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it. Instead, he turned left and started walking, Kara was quick to follow.

“So,” she started and Querl quickly learned that this certain captain doesn’t like the quiet. Which was fine with Querl, he wasn’t the biggest fan of the quiet either. “What made you decide to help me?”

“What made you decide to become a pirate?” Querl asked, making another turn.

“Those are two completely different questions!” Kara exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “Your question involves a whole backstory, which I’m sure you don’t want to hear. My question shouldn’t.”

“What if it does?” Querl pressed, “what if both our questions involve a deep answer that neither of us knows?”

Kara opened her mouth to answer but quickly closed it unsure what to say. “Okay, I’ll give you that,” she said eventually. “How about I’ll tell you the short version of mine and you do the same?”

Querl thought about it for a moment before nodding. Kara grinned and stretched her arms up before locking her hands together behind her head.

“My parents had my future planned, I wasn’t into it so I ran away,” she answered, with a thoughtful look in her eyes. “It took years to become what I am, but I’m happy and I’d probably do it again.”

“And your parents? They’re okay that you're one of the most wanted captains of the sea?”

Kara hummed and dropped her arms. “Not at first, but they saw how happy I was and let me be.

Though they did try to get my sister to follow me to make sure I was okay. She refused. It wasn’t until I became captain of my ship that she joined me.”

Querl nodded, with another question ready to be asked. But he stopped himself, they did promise to answer with a shorter version.

“I’m assuming you heard stories about my mother,” Querl started and kept his gaze forward, even when he could feel her eyes on him. When Kara hummed in acknowledgment, Querl continued. “I can assure you that most stories are true.”

Kara’s eyes widened in surprise. “I heard she’s ruthless in battle and around the castle. That she wants to gain control of the surrounding kingdoms.”

“Mm, that is correct,” he said, and Kara could hear a hint of sadness as he continued. “She believes the only way to rule is with an iron fist. I don’t believe her way of thinking. It’s cruel and everyone deserves a chance to be heard. As you can guess, we don’t get along. I try to do everything I can to stop her and she tries everything she can to stop me.”

“Why don’t you just run away?” Kara asked. Querl shrugged and turned another corner.

“I wouldn’t know where to go where she couldn’t find me,” he answered, “and even if I did, she would stop at nothing to bring me back home.”

The rest of the walk was spent in silence, neither of them had anything to talk about. Well, there were plenty of things they could have said, but there was a silent agreement of no talking.

Eventually, they were nearing the end of their walk, given that they saw the light at the end.

“We’re almost there!” Kara shouted happily, almost hitting Querl’s arm. He smiled and they quickened their pace.

They had almost reached the entrance before they heard someone yell behind them. “There! They’re here!”

Kara turned around and saw the Queen and a handful of men at the end of the tunnel. She turned back to Querl and he could see the panic in her eyes.

Without thinking, Querl grasped her hand, and together they took off for the entrance. “Where’s your ship?” Querl asked, squinting as the sun hit their eyes. Blinking a few times, his eyes adjusted and he looked around.

Kara did as well and broke into a smile, glad that they had gotten her note on time. “There!” she shouted, pointing at the lone ship that was sailing away from the port.

“They’re sailing away?!” Querl exclaimed, starting to panic, Kara could tell. She squeezed his hand and smiled when he turned to look at her.

There’s an unspoken question of what now? And it prompts a twinkle in Kara’s eyes that both intrigued and scared Querl.

“We get creative!” she answered, before taking off towards the cliff. Hand still clasped in hers, Querl followed without a second thought.

“Get them!” the queen yelled, surprising the townspeople around the port. The guards took off running as the queen ignored everyone, and started towards Kara and Querl.

By the time the queen and the guards caught up to the two, they were standing at the edge of the cliff. Querl looked down unsure, whereas Kara was still grinning. “What now? Querl whispered, turning to look at her.

“There’s nowhere else to run,” the queen called before Kara had the chance to answer. “Turn around, you are under arrest.”

“I’m sorry,” Kara whispered. Before Querl had a chance to ask what she meant, Kara wrapped an arm around his waist and he felt a blade against his throat. He gulped but chose not to say anything. They slowly turned around and the guards drew their weapons but didn’t advance.

“Queen Fabala,” Kara greeted. Although she was smiling, it wasn’t a pleasant greeting. “I’d say it was an honour, but I’d be lying.”

Fabala hummed, her eyes were on Querl as she spoke. “What brings Kara Danvers to the Kingdom of Coly?”

“Captain,” she corrected and shrugged. “Just some shopping, nothing more.”

“Well regardless of why you are in town. You are still under arrest,” Fabala said, taking a step forward and stopped when Kara tightened her grip on her dagger. “You are, after all, a wanted criminal.”

“They don’t call me Captain Kara Danvers for nothing,” she said, taking a step back until her heel hit nothing but air. “But I’m afraid this is where I bid you goodbye.”

As quickly as she could, she whispered something to Querl and kissed him on the cheek before she jumped.

Surprised at the sudden loss of contact, Querl turned and looked down to see Kara swimming towards her ship. He heard the guards running up behind him and peered down.

“What do you have us do, Your Majesty?” the captain of the guard asked.

“Position some men around the ports and once they finish docking, have your men arrest them.”

“Your Majesty, Prince Querl,” he said, bowing before barking out orders as they left.

“Are you alright, Querl?” Fabala asked, checking him to see if he had any cuts or bruises.

“I’m fine, Mother,” he answered, though his attention was still on Kara. Still thinking about what she had whispered to him.

“Are you sure? She didn’t do anything to cause you harm?”

“No.”

“Well then,” she said, smoothing out her dress. She turned around and started walking. “Let us be off.” Querl stayed there as she continued walking. Noticing he wasn’t following she cleared her throat. “Come on Querl, let us go.”

Your life is yours Querl, do what you want to do, Kara’s words whispered into his ears.

So, he jumped.

----

Ao3

[octalove]

VIII: Struck by Lightning

(Batgirl/Red Hood)

Description: Reader makes a confession, and goes on a date. Previous.

TW: Brief mention of gore (just blood)

In the weeks succeeding the Little Italy mission, I found a rhythm in the two conflicting heartbeats of my life. Occasionally, I met with Jason to file down the multitude of criminals who opposed him (it wasn’t all rescuing orphans and kittens, but his justice was fair and swift), and other than that, I carried on with life as normal; both as myself, and Batgirl. It was an inconsistent, exciting balancing act.

I tried to humor Bruce’s transparent attempts to placate me with cold cases, deeming it study. My school work had unsurprisingly lost its appeal, and I found myself rocking in the river banks of what was sure to be a failing grade in most of my classes- though I had yet to run ashore. Yet.

I danced along, despite my reprisal (a lack of sleep, and white lies on either side), and overall there was a certain stalemate. With that, peace. Or at least, the closest I could get.

On a Saturday I happened to have free (to my great relief), I woke up at one in the afternoon, to a blessedly dim day that kept the light in my room dark enough to cradle my lie-in.

I washed the sleep from my face, and stumbled downstairs, muscles sore from a Thursday night mission with Jason at the Port (of which I told my family I was going to a party). Tim was the only one in the kitchen- looking like he, too, had just crawled out of bed. He was eating cereal in silence.

We hadn’t been avoiding each other, per say- just got wrapped up in our own routines. Routines that kept me out of the house, and him trapped within it.

“Morning.” I said.

“Mm.” He replied.

I poured out my own bowl of cereal and settled on top of the glossy white granite. It was kind of a running joke at the Wayne household that you could sit anywhere but the chairs. Even Damian picked up on it- and, naturally, he was the best at it- perching his lithe little form atop the fridge at one point.

Now, Tim and I sat side by side on the countertop, shoulders brushing and spoons clanging against our glass bowls. Nothing more was said, but it was a comfortable silence.

I thought, for a second, about the world he’d been living in for the past few months as November bled into December. About his work and his many, many jobs he had to do. The way he shouldered them all week-to-week. He didn’t have to, but he did.

Tim made me a better person. I thought so, anyway.

But then, before I met him, I was the kind of person who let Carolyn Crawford slap me across the face to cover for someone else’s secret. Now, I was the kind who let other people take the blame for mine. Maybe Tim didn’t make me a better person. Only I could do that.

*

“I need to talk to you.” I said it firmly, and with authority. Mostly to convince myself that I was certain in my intention to go through with it. Bruce eyed me, looking up from his book.

“Alright.”

“...”

“...”

“In private.”

Alfred and Damian’s voices carried through to the living room as they had tea (an evening tradition). Bruce nodded, closed his book, and led me upstairs.

His office was a quiet, peaceful place. Finished dark wood, glass tables, and black leather accents. It was the room in the house that was most furnished to his own private taste, and thus, a glimpse inside was into him. It was mostly predictable; W.E. briefcases, notebooks and pens, case files open, and a map of the city that was displayed behind his desk. But there were other things too; a rubik’s cube half solved on the settee, a magazine featuring Vicki Vale with a pen in her hand and a defiant, head-strong look on her face. A gorgeous trailing point knife that belonged to Damian (probably confiscated).

I sat down in the chair that faced his own; his giant, glossy desk between us. I wanted to be swallowed into the dark leather. I felt like I was back at the shrink.

“Tim didn’t sneak off on the 21st.” I said quickly, cutting off the silence as quickly as I could. “He’s not the one who saw Red Hood kill that guy. It was me. I made Tim promise not to tell. He lied to cover for me.”

Bruce was quiet. He did that a lot; made you wait for him to speak. Seconds, minutes, hours. It all felt the same when he let you simmer in your own mistakes. I didn’t look up.

“I see.”

Silence. A long, testing silence. His irritating little desk clock ticked away.

“Is that all you wanted to tell me?” He asked.

I nodded.

“Very well. You’re dismissed.”

“Really?” I asked. “That’s it? You’re not mad?”

He paused. “Should I be?”

I blinked, gaze falling on the floor. “I put Tim in a really shitty position. He didn’t have to lie, but he did because I asked him to. I’m mad at me.” I admitted quietly.

Bruce nodded pedantically, resting his head on his hand. “Then that’s good enough for me.”

I furrowed my brow. It wasn’t good enough for me. “It was wrong.” I clarified, trying to press for some manner of reprimand that I didn’t truly want, but felt deserving of anyway. Bruce considered this, in his quiet, inscrutable way. After a moment, he spoke.

“Your mothers trusted me.” He said. I knew that. My parents were business-oriented like that. They were pulled together by happenstance, each without family and carving their own way in the world by studying international law, and applying it to companies who could afford private foreign trade, such as Wayne Enterprises. I attended the parties, the galas, standing around in my designer gowns while my moms handed out their business cards and talked about imports. They weren’t neglectful, just distracted.

“I don’t know if you remember-“

“I do.”

And if I had a dollar for every time the cops or the shrink asked me if I remembered that night, I’d buy my own manor.

Bruce Wayne was at my birth. He and my mothers had been business partners for a while by that time. He watched me, dutifully, when my parents went on date nights, and played catch with me when I accompanied him and Dick to the park. He cooked me breakfast the morning after my mothers died.

I knew it wasn’t a random killing, but he didn’t talk about why they were murdered in their own bed until I was fifteen. By then, I was knowledgeable enough to go searching through the police reports on my own. So instead, one night he’d sat me down at the kitchen table, looking at me earnestly.

“You have to understand, Y/N. Your mothers were...” He’d taken a deep breath. Tried again. “They were involved in things. Things I didn’t know about. It made them a lot of enemies.” Then, something harder passed his features. A frustration.

“They were completely blind to the fact that it meant you would never have a normal life. Not as long as they kept it up- that... double life.” I let the statement hang in the air for a time. “That was stolen from you, from the moment they got involved with the Baciu. And I’m sorry.”

It was easy to be sorry. I was sorry, too. My mothers got themselves tangled in Gotham’s heroin trade, and they weren’t careful enough, so they died for it. It was fairly cut and dry. Open file, close case. But the part that was so bitter to swallow was that it happened to me. A fourteen-year-old child creeping into my mothers’ bed because I’d heard a noise, and the re-runs of Ghost Hunter I’d religiously consumed were conjuring movement in the shadows. But there were no ghosts. Just sheets stained with blood that looked black in the darkness. Just the wet, clogged sort of sound when I peeled back the covers, unable to register they way my mothers were bent, and stilled in a way that only death can induce, where just earlier that night they’d been walking and talking. Bringing me Chinese take-out for dinner.

Their death, and everything that followed was emptying. Cracking open a great chasm and bringing death home, into the halls, and into my room. No longer a rumor. It was an empty chair, and a storied space made cold and worthless. It would’ve been easier if they had simply died as a random killing. Tragic, standard, random Gotham City killing. If I had just been that unlucky. If they’d only been struck by lightning. Instead, I grieved twice; once for who they were, and another time, for who I thought they were.

When Bruce adopted me, I became Batgirl. I made it my own vendetta to stop criminals without killing them, because I knew that some- most of them had children at home who would be the real victims if I did.

But then, I thought deeper. More considerately, about who my mothers were. Moreover, who they weren’t. Pearl and gold, white teeth and hairspray. Singing to me, and playing Monopoly, at which they were both so competitive that they had to kiss and make up after every game. Bringing me a strawberry cupcake in bed every year on my birthday. Kissing me on the head. Telling me to be good. Leaving me in that big house. Going off to Port Adams, or Crime Alley. Signing orders. Putting bodies in Finger River.

Nobody’s innocent here, dollface.

“They trusted me.” Bruce’s voice interrupted my reminiscing with the ghosts of my past. “I know their death was hard, and you may still be recovering. I’m trying to do the best I can for you.” He finished. For all the gnashing teeth and avaricious expanses of Gotham City secrets, he looked tired.

“I know, Bruce.” I said quietly. “Me too.”

*

The following Tuesday, I got home from school and started on a mountain of homework I needed to do- some make up work as well. Christmas break was around the corner, and I was slowly losing motivation as the semester drew to a close. I had too many distractions; and tonight was no exception.

Ding.

My phone buzzed, and I looked down, eyebrows raising to find that it was a text from Jason- one that wasn’t just a pin dropped to a location.

Meet me at Twin Sharks. I’ll buy you a coffee.

- What’s the occasion?

No reply. I sighed. I should’ve called him and made him tell me, but I knew that I would go no matter what, so I decided to play the apathy card. Despite my cool response, my heart (the traitor) was fluttering like a bird. Was this about the kiss? Our partnership? Was it an actual, regular date? Or was he breaking it off? My mind raced, and as I pulled together a tasteful outfit and sprayed myself with perfume, I promised myself that it wasn’t for him.

The Twin Sharks was a diner in Upper West Side, near China town. It was nicer than the likes of Sherman’s, or anything else East End had to offer. The late afternoon was unexpectedly bright, clouds parted for a sweet reprieve of gold and blush in the sky. The sun was a striking blood-orange, hung low over the city. It struck a match in my chest- some childish, poetic hopefulness.

The diner’s door jingled, and I scanned the booths and tables. It was a little crowded, but I spotted Jason alone in a booth, his eyes cast down, involved with his phone. I made my way over to him, slipping off my coat and plopping down his opposite.

“Hey.” I said. His eyes fell upon me, and I saw something on his face- maybe surprise, or something to that effect- before he composed his expression into something unreadable.

“Hey.”

The diner had a big, hot pink neon sign that depicted a matching pair of sharks above the counter. Its buzzing glow mixed with the orange gleam of the lowering sun through the windows- it was all very rose-colored.

The waitress put a coffee in front of me, and I got to work on adorning it with the little cream and sugar packets on the table. He watched me do it for while.

“What?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“Nothin’.” He said. Then, he reached across the table, and took my hand, pulling it back to him, and pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles. I was so startled by it that I dropped the sugar packet I was holding. Neither of us seemed to notice. He turned my hand over and placed another kiss in the inside of my wrist before returning it safely to my side of the table. I was certain my face burned like the neon sharks.

“I’m- um- is this a date?” I asked, trying to get him to say something- anything- to get my mind off the way he’d just reduced me to a puddle.

He looked amused by that. “You want it to be?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged, stirring my coffee. “You invited me.”

He nodded, eyes falling away. “Yeah. I’ve got an update for you. D’amici business.”

“Oh.” By the look on his face, it wasn’t good news.

“You’re not gonna like it.”

“Perfect. My day’s been a little too good so far.” I said. He slid me his phone- on the screen was an article from the Gotham Quarterly.

Young Bride Found Murdered in Diamond District Estate

I read over it a couple times, brow furrowing. “You mean...“

“Penelope. It happened last night.”

“Shit.” I muttered, scrolling down and scanning through the article. My throat caught as I read over it. She was shot in her bed. “It says there’s no suspects.”

“Course it does. It’s the mafia. They handle things nice and quiet.”

“And I’m guessing you have a few a suspects.” He nodded grimly as I slid his phone back to him.

“One better. I know exactly who did it. I think you do, too.”

I put my head in my hands, mulling over my options. Really there was only one. Penelope’s beautiful, flustered face and apologetic eyes flashed through my mind. Her wind-chime laugh as we ate scones under the watchful eye of her adoring, peculiar grandmother.

“Okay.” I resolved. “Let’s get that girl justice.”

[thewayshedreamed]

This Time— Part 6

A Nessian Fan Fic

Fic Masterlist

This chapter offers some additional insight into Nesta’s thought process and sheds a little light on the ongoing process her emotional development has become. I hope it comes through!

This is somewhat of a “building” chapter so that we can get Nessian to the crest, so to speak. Part 7 is already written and only needs some editing, so it��s possible that I’ll be doing a double update today ☺️ They certainly have a lot to discuss, and once I started writing, I couldn’t stop. 😂 Anyway, enough of me. Enjoy!

Links to the previous parts:

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 ||

Warnings for grief related to the loss of a parent and some strong language.

——————————————————————————

Around 11:00 PM, Nesta decided she couldn’t be alone with her thoughts anymore. She was ruminating on similar memories and effectively raking herself over the coals. Although she knew any one of her friends would be there for her no matter the time of day, she picked up her phone to call the one she knew would most likely be awake at this hour.

“Hello?” Azriel’s raspy voice came through the phone.

“Were you asleep?! Since when do you go to bed early?” Her surprise was obvious by her tone. What the hell? He’s never in bed before midnight.

“Nes. Always a pleasure.” Azriel breathed a chuckle into the phone. “I usually wouldn’t be. I’m.. umm.. at a friend’s house tonight.”

Nesta gasped and dropped her voice. “Oh my gods. Az, were you on a date?! Am I interrupting?” She clapped her free hand over her forehead. “I’m the worst. I’m sorry.”

Another chuckle from Azriel. “You don’t have to whisper, you know. She can’t hear you. You’re not interrupting anything. I was asleep when you called, but I’m out on the couch now. What’s up?”

”If you were asleep, then that counts as interrupting! Are you sure?”

”Yes. Just, maybe the short version?” His tone was tentative, almost as if he felt guilty asking her to keep it concise at 11 PM. No one truly deserved Azriel as their friend.

“I can do that. So, here it is. I’ll save you the long, tedious trip through my brain.” She paused for half a second to take a breath. “I’m in love with Cassian.” She let out a quiet groan for effect.

”Mhmm...” The lilting of his voice implied that he was waiting for something like the punchline of a joke; the unknown part of her statement.

Her breath caught. “I kind of expected more of a reaction.”

”Did you? I thought there was more to it.” He seemed entirely neutral in that grating way of his.

”How did you know?!” She asked, incredulously.

”You told me.”

“Mm.. I don’t think so. When?” Now she was actually confused. Did she make some kind of drunken confession at Rita’s? She would remember having this revelation before now.

“At brunch. When we were driving home.”

”What are you talking about?!” Her voice was definitely higher pitched than it had been previously. She was anxious to hear his response, thinking he had surely dreamed this.

”Nesta. We were in my car, backing out of the parking lot. You asked me, ‘Why couldn’t we be the ones to fall in love?’ Or something along those lines. I thought that you were using some cryptic way of telling me because it implied two parties. Why do you think I hit the brakes so hard?” He seemed impatient, as if he was telling her the most obvious thing in the world.

“I thought maybe the question weirded you out! I didn’t even realize what I said, to be honest. How the actual fuck do you notice tiny things like that?” She didn’t wait on his response. He would know it was rhetorical. “Now my problem is this: I think he’s dating someone, so I’ve lost my chance.” She briefly told him what she had overheard the night of Elain’s birthday, her voice starting to crack toward the end.

”Hm. He hasn’t said anything to me about that, but I could see why he would wait being that you and I are close. But honestly, I don’t know that you could ever lose your chance with Cassian, Nes.”

She didn’t have anything to say to that. She simply sat there, playing with the corner of her throw blanket and hoping he would continue. He seemed to sense her discomfort and started talking again.

“I think you’ll regret it if you don’t talk to him. But, if I can offer my opinion, maybe wait a little while so that you know you’re absolutely sure this is what you want. I don’t know how he would handle it if you decided it’s not what you want.”

She felt herself prickle with defensiveness. “I wouldn’t do that to him, Az. Of course I’m sure. It only took me an eternity to figure this shit out.”

Azriel responded in a soothing tone he so often used with her. “I know. But remember, you’re not the one he talks to about you. I’m just looking out for my brother. Maybe let it marinate, yeah?”

She knew his intentions were pure, and she couldn’t really blame him for being protective. Before she could respond, she heard a feminine voice in the background ask: “Az, everything okay?”

She heard him pull the phone away from his face to answer. “Oh, yeah. All good. It’s Nesta.”

Delayed by her scattered brain and the copious amount of wine, the identity of the voice finally hit her full force.

”IS THAT ELAIN?!” She sat up straighter as if it would allow her to hear them more readily.

She heard Azriel laugh, followed by a shuffling on the other end.

“Hello? Nesta? Everything okay?” Nesta could hear the genuine concern in her voice.

“Hey, El. Everything’s fine! Sorry to crash your date. It seems we have quite a bit to talk about. Very soon.”

It took Elain a couple of seconds to respond, and Nesta could hear the smile in her voice. “Yeah. I think we do. Someone told me I should just talk to him. Turns out that they were right.” She paused, waiting for an “I told you so” from Nesta. She didn’t have the energy. “You know you can talk to me about Cassian, too, right?”

Nesta shut her eyes tightly and shook her head. “Of course. I’m sorry. I’ve been leaning on Az since our fight, and I honestly haven’t had the energy to bring it up beyond that. But I do want to talk to you. And Feyre. It’s just been...hard.”

“I can imagine. It’s hard to remember a time before you and Cass. It’s like the end of an era or something. Just know that we’re here.” Her voice was soft, laced with worry and a desire to help her older sister.

”Maybe for now,” Nesta teased, “but you may not have much time to chat these days.”

She knew she was blatantly deflecting, but El’s words had caused tears to prick her eyes yet again. It’s hard to remember a time before you and Cass. She realized how true it was, and what upset her the most was that she knew she didn’t want to know a time without Cassian.

The call wrapped up with more gentle teasing between the sisters, and eventually, embarrassing Azriel a bit over speakerphone. She told them she loved them and promised to keep them updated on how she was feeling. Her heart felt lighter once she finally ended the call, thanks to the laughter they managed to pull from her.

——————————————————————————

Christine Archeron’s death anniversary fell on a Tuesday that year, and Nesta awoke with a similar irritation as last year— death anniversaries should never fall on weekdays. She went through the familiar motions as any other morning, headed to work, and concentrated on her various tasks she was expected to juggle at any given time. As appearances went, it looked like any other ordinary day to those around her, so the extra heaviness remained hers alone to carry.

On her lunch break, she got a chance to pull her phone to check her messages and mindlessly scroll through social media. She had been focused on scrolling for so long that her phone took her by surprise when it vibrated in her hand. She tapped the notification by reflex and found herself studying the sender’s name as if it was some sort of mistake.

Cassian: Thinking about you today. I know it’s a rough one. Keep your head up. Christine would have it no other way ❤️

Nesta read the text several times in a row; just to make sure it was real. It had been so long since he’d contacted her intentionally, and it made her happy that he still thought to reach out today. It simultaneously made her a little sad; however, because it was yet another reminder of what she’d lost in him. That was an issue to deal with later.

Nesta: Of course you are, because you’re the perfect human, and I don’t deserve you. Thanks, Cass 💕 Means the world to me to hear from you. Mom really loved you, and I know she would appreciate you looking out for us.

She hesitated over the send button for several seconds before deciding to go through with it. It felt so weird to intentionally script any type of message to him being that they had spent most of their relationship entirely uncensored. Everything about it felt wrong— she couldn’t act natural with him because it wasn’t appropriate anymore, yet she didn’t feel right having to draft and redraft their communication. It was all so fucked, and she was tired of this odd limbo they stayed in.

She reflected on her conversation with Azriel and Elain on the night she had unintentionally crashed their date. She knew that they both held strong points about her situation and wouldn’t advise her to try to repair things if they knew it was a lost cause. She acknowledged that Azriel, specifically, knew more than he was at liberty to tell her. That being the case, she decided that was evidence in favor of hashing things out with Cassian. It wasn’t long before she was lost in her own thoughts, her food entirely forgotten.

I’ve spent my entire life trying to ensure I didn’t need anyone. I never wanted to depend heavily on another person in a way that I couldn’t manage on my own. But that’s not really the case anyway, right? I’ve managed fine these few weeks, but that’s the thing. I’ve managed. Why do I try to insist that’s enough for me?

But what if the door is closed? What if this was Cassian’s final push, and he’s gone? I don’t know Alis, and she could be wonderful. She probably appreciates the shit out of him and saw immediately that he’s not the average person. She probably knows how special he is. She probably beams anytime he enters a room and tries to take care of his heart in any way she can. She’s probably fucking delightful.

But does that really compete with history? I guess if that history is filled with turmoil, it could. She’ll never know the Cassian that was a freshman in high school— braces and curly hair, still a head taller than most of the other boys in class. She won’t remember how he hit his second growth spurt the summer after sophomore year, where he started to fill out and caught the attention of any girl with a pulse. She doesn’t know what it’s like when he’s truly angry with his dad and the world. She doesn’t know the full range of his eclectic music tastes or the guilty pleasures he sings depending on his mood. She didn’t do the leg work to reconcile the tough, intimidating exterior when he gets upset with the gentle soul beneath. There’s no way she knows when his humor and his laughter are distractions from his pain rather than when they’re genuine. She can’t love him like I do. Im-fucking-possible.

She was pulled abruptly out of her head, and incredible jealousy, by her alarm. It was time to go back to work and finish out the day, and she hoped it passed as quickly as possible. She silently chastised herself for piling this emotional time bomb on today of all days as she threw away her lunch and walked out of the break room.

So much for leaving this issue for later.

She resolved to put all of these thoughts back into their little box until she had the emotional energy to open the lid once again. Whenever the hell that would be.

——————————————————————————

The rest of the day zoomed by at a blissful pace, thank the gods. In fact, when Nesta glanced at the clock, she realized it was several minutes after 5:00 PM. She clocked out, grabbed her things, and climbed into her car. She took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself to make the drive out to the cemetery. She wasn’t sure what time Elain had been able to go by, but Nesta had agreed to meet Feyre at 5:30 to pay their respects. It was becoming a standing tradition, where they would make their short visit whenever they could during the day and follow with dinner together as a family.

She made it with a few minutes to spare, so she took that time to sit with her mom one-on-one. She gave her a brief update on her life, told her how much she loved and missed her, and gently brushed any leaves or grass clippings off of her headstone. There were fresh flowers in her vase, something she noted each year on her death anniversary. Any other time of year, they kept seasonally appropriate faux flowers to make sure her site was properly decorated. She made a mental note to offer to contribute to the fresh arrangement in the years following when she saw her family at dinner. They were always taken care of before she made it out to the cemetery, and she didn’t want to risk forgetting for the next year. She leaned into the arrangement, taking in the various floral scents emanating from the blooms in the bouquet. There was a myriad of vivid colors, wildflowers throughout, and Nesta loved how true to her mother’s spirit they were.

She turned when she heard car doors and saw Feyre approaching with Rhysand. She stood, extending an arm out to her baby sister, who accepted it readily and rested her head on her shoulder. They wrapped their arms around each other, and Rhysand stood nearby, resting his hand on Feyre’s opposite shoulder. They stood together for several minutes until Nesta excused herself to allow Feyre some time alone with their mom as well.

She drove to her father’s house where she found Elain already setting the table for dinner. They worked together quietly, making sure they had plenty of place settings for everyone. Azriel offered his help to carry various dishes of food to the dining table and took his seat next to Elain once it was all settled. Almost as if on cue, Feyre and Rhysand walked into the house and took their seats as well. The dinner started off quiet considering the somber mood, but Feyre was the first to break the tension when she started to tell stories from their childhood. In a matter of moments, their home was filled with animated story telling and loud bouts of laughter, and Nesta couldn’t think of a better way to honor her mom’s love of life.

As everyone finished up, she suddenly remembered her mental note from earlier. She waited for a natural lull in conversation, then commented softly, “Mom’s flowers were beautiful, you guys. You did an amazing job.”

”They were really perfect. They couldn’t have been more ‘Christine’ if you tried,” Feyre remarked.

“Elain, Dad. I’m not sure which of you took care of them this year, but would you let me take care of next time? I haven’t contributed since she passed, and I’d really like to.”

Mr. Archeron softly shook his head back and forth, communicating to Nesta that it hadn’t been him. Nesta adjusted her gaze to Elain who looked just as confused.

“Oh. Nes, I assumed it was one of you. I didn’t... I didn’t order them. I wished I had.” She looked down at her hands, and Azriel placed a supportive arm across the back of her chair.

“Okay... so who did?” She glanced around the table from person to person, but no one took any credit. It was Rhys who spoke up first, clearing his throat to master his voice.

“You don’t know?”

”Obviously.” She looked to Feyre for support. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Feyre said nothing, watching Rhysand talk with rapt attention.

When he spoke again, it was cautious, as if his words may startle her. “Nesta. The flowers are from Cassian. He’s done them every year since Mrs. Christine died.”

She was suddenly short of breath. Everyone’s attention snapped to Rhys, including her father’s. Her sisters and Azriel were looking at Rhysand with stunned expressions, their eyes flicking to her face occasionally.

“What? How could you know— why would you know, when we don’t? What the fuck is going on?” She was falling over her own words, struggling to form any cohesive thought.

”I’m so sorry,” Rhysand glanced around the room for the first time, realizing he had everyone’s attention. “The only reason I knew was because he asked me to make sure they made it from the flower shop to her gravesite the year he had knee surgery. He asked me to keep it to myself then, but I figured by now he would have said something to at least one other person.” He looked down into his plate, various emotions playing over his handsome face. Feyre leaned over to comfort him, knowing he was likely embarrassed to be the reason the air had changed so dramatically.

Nesta’s head was swimming, emotions roiling from a million different directions. She knew anger was cheap and unfair, but she pulled on that tether as hard as she could to make sure she could navigate everything she was processing. She was on her feet suddenly, pushing her chair away from the table and walking toward her keys.

“I have to go.” She couldn’t be in here anymore. The room was too small, the walls were too close. Too many people. She picked up the pace, flinging the door open and shutting it hard behind her. She was down the porch steps when she heard the door open again. Azriel’s voice followed her.

”Nesta. Where are you going? Nesta, stop!” He had jogged lightly to catch up with her, and he tugged her gently by the wrist to stop her. She spun on him quickly, eyes flaring and brimming with tears.

“Anywhere but here! What the fuck was that, Az?”

He said nothing; looked down at his own feet as he shook his head.

“Cassian has some fucking nerve, you know that? Why is he insisting upon himself?” Her voice was lowered and had taken on an almost eerie quality; the calm before the proverbial storm.

“Nes, I don’t think he meant to upset you. It sounds like it’s something he’s made somewhat of a tradition. Maybe he just wanted to be sure and see it through.”

”He doesn’t get to do that anymore, Azriel. He doesn’t get to butt-dial me while he makes date plans with some girl, then turn around and send flowers to my dead mother. What am I supposed to think about that? And how would that make his girlfriend feel?” Azriel pulled her into a hug at that, resting his chin on top of her head. He didn’t answer her. There was nothing to say.

She pulled away from him, gripping her keys, and walked toward her car. “I’m out. Tell them I love them, and I’ll call tomorrow.” She nodded her chin toward the house, climbed into her car, and backed out of the driveway.

——————————————————————————

She wasn’t sure how long she’d driven before she found herself in his driveway. She knew it hadn’t been very long considering the sun was still clinging to the end of the day. She honestly didn’t remember making the conscious decision to come here, likely fueled by anger and muscle memory more than anything else. She was still so frustrated at her situation, her emotions spilling over and refusing to be put into that stupid fucking box anymore. The worst part was that, as mad as she was with him, she so badly wanted to see him. She wished the circumstances were less complicated so that she could knock, ask for a hug and some tea, and lay on his couch. They were a hell of a long way from those people now.

She loosed a breath, puffing her cheeks with air and exhaling slowly. Just before she peeled her head from the headrest to get out, his front door opened. He opened it most of the way, then leaned against the door jamb on his shoulder. He had his hands in the pockets of his sweats and one of his ankles crossed casually over the other. For a moment, she only looked at him, unable to move or offer any type of acknowledgement. She took in the charcoal henley he was wearing, unbuttoned save for the very last one. The small flap of the opening leaned to the side, revealing the base of his neck and the beginning of his tattoos. He looked so very Cassian, casual and laid-back, that she struggled to keep her emotions level at the mere sight of him. His hair was down, looking like he had just run his fingers through it with its deep part and how it fell haphazardly around his face. He was wearing his reading glasses, she noticed, the thick frames highlighting the sharp angle of his cheekbones and the wide set of his jaw. He gave her a soft smile, and cocked his head to the side and back in invitation. She could almost hear him gently telling her to “get in here”.

Too late to turn back now.

——————————————————————————

A/N: Alrighty, hope y’all enjoyed this chapter, even with minimal Nessian. The next chapter(s) will more than make up for it, though! I’m hoping to have max Nessian to y’all ASAP. A million thanks to all of you who continue to follow this au. Your comments/ feedback have meant the world to me!

If you’d like to be tagged, feel free to comment, reblog, or send a message! I’d be happy to add you to the list. If I’ve accidentally left you off or there are issues with your tag, let me know, and I’ll look into it! Comments and constructive criticism are welcome (even encouraged)!

Tags:

@polireader // @lord-douglas-the-third // @justgiu12 // @notyournymphetish // @sjm-things // @strangeenemy // @iammissstark // @keshavomit // @sjmships // @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks // @dusty-lightbulb // @texas-shaped-waffle-maker // @julemmaes // @charincharge // @superspiritfestival // @awesomelena555 // @sleeping-and-books // @hizqueen4life // @maastrash // @bookstantrash // @rhyswhitethorn // @grace-k-sterling // @sayosdreams // @sis-it-dont-add-up // @ladywitchling // @b00kworm // @courtofjurdan

[trashyswitch]

Afton's Disturbing Pet

William and Henry are removing stuff from Freddy Fazbear, when Henry jumps back at the look of a big spider. Henry, however, learns not only is William not scared of spiders, he befriends them!

WARNING! This plot includes mentions of arachnophobia and features a slight spider character. If you hate spiders as well, you can either click off and look for another fanfic, or read at your own risk and enjoy the relatable moments. Besides that, I hope you enjoy!

Henry was fixing up Freddy Fazbear for the next week of birthday parties coming up. After opening up the belly plate on Freddy Fazbear, Henry took a quick look inside to make sure there weren't any lost and found items hidden in Freddy’s machinery. Funnily enough, there were about 6 different items in Freddy Fazbear this time!

“Gosh...When will children learn to keep their stuff to themselves?” Henry asked.

William chuckled. “When they’re too old to come back, probably.” William replied.

Henry rolled his eyes. “I mean, look at this!” Henry told him. William walked up to the Freddy Fazbear animatronic and looked inside. “A kid lost a pair of shoes! What parent lets their kid leave the restaurant with socked feet?!” Henry exclaimed.

William smiled. “A parent that probably doesn’t care.” William replied.

Henry sighed as he grabbed the pair of shoes out of the machinery and threw them into the lost and found bin. “Hmm...I see a toy car...a paper airplane…Hey look: a Chica bobblehead.” Henry reacted, showing him. William took the bobblehead, flicked the head and watched the head bobble around.

“...UUUUH…WILL, HELP.” Henry yelled suddenly.

William put the bobblehead in his pocket and looked up. “Yes?” He replied.

Henry slowly walked himself backwards and grabbed onto William’s arm tightly.

“Spider. There’s a spider. K-Kill it.” Henry ordered.

William smiled and chuckled at him. “That’s all?” William started walking up to the suit. “Come on man...It can’t be that big a d-” William took one glance at the spider and widened his eyes. It was HUGE! “Wow...okay! That’s pretty big, I’ll admit.” William reacted, leaning forward and bringing his hand towards it. “Hey buddy. What are you doing, hiding in the big bear?” William asked, flattening his hand so the spider could get on. The spider moved its front 2 legs back nervously, but slowly brought its legs back and walked onto William’s hand. William smiled and brought the spider out of the suit’s middle and looked at it closer.

Henry yelped and jumped back, while William watched the spider crawl around on his hand. It was a black spider with beige dots lining the bottom middle body, and 8 thin legs spread out to keep it crawling. The spider was using those legs to crawl around on the back of William’s hand. Somewhat slowly, the spider crawled itself up William’s shirt, onto the wrist and lower arm. “I think I’m gonna call you...AJ. For Afton Junior.” William told him in a slightly high-pitched voice.

Henry was both amused by the strangely adorable scene, and also cowering at the idea of a spider being less than 3 feet away from him. “Why don’t you name him Willy?” Henry asked, still the slightest bit of fright in his voice.

“Cause Willy is just a dirty version of the name William.” William explained. Then, William smirked and looked at Henry. “Or i can name him Henry Junior…” William mentioned.

Henry’s eyes widened as he let out a whimper. “Mmmm-no. Bad idea. Please no.” Henry told him.

William’s smile grew wider and wider as the spider scaled his forearm, crawled past the elbow and skittered up the side of his bicep. “You’re almost there buddy. Come on…” William cheered.

Henry looked like he was going to lose his mind. “HOW, can you just...sit still! While that spider is just-” Henry threw his arms up and just gave up on reasoning. “You know what? No. not even gonna TRY and figure that out.” Henry decided.

After a few more skitters, the spider successfully reached William’s shoulder. William chuckled at Henry’s reaction as he started admiring the big spider on his shoulder. “Look...I have my own little spider friend!” William told him.

“Mm hmm...fascinating. Quick question: how are you so calm?” Henry asked.

William chuckled. “It’s simple, really:” William started as he reached his fingers out to his shoulder to pick up the spider. “I'm not afraid of spiders.” WIlliam explained.

“But HOW?! That’s a wolf spider! They bite!” Henry told him.

William laughed at the irony as the spider crawled on his palm. “You say you hate spiders, and yet you’re perfectly willing to find a book on spiders that are harmless versus spiders that bite.” William reacted.

“That was meant to help my fear of spiders. And you know what? It helped a lot more than you expect!” Henry reacted.

“Did it now?” William asked.

“Yes...actually it did.” Henry told Will. “It helped me learn what spiders I shouldn’t be afraid of, and which spiders I should be afraid of.” Henry explained.

“Interesting.” William told him half-heartedly. Then, William started giving the spider very gentle pats on the head. “Look at you! Such a big strong boy!” William said as he patted its head some more.

Henry nervously watched as the spider moved its front legs around on William’s upper wrist. Suddenly, William jolted and widened his eyes for only a few moments. But his surprised face quickly turned into slight anger as he leaned his head closer to the spider. “You little bastard…” William muttered.

Henry widened his own eyes in surprise and worry. “What just happened?” Henry asked, fearing the worst.

“Well, I think Junior just bit me.” William replied calmly.

“WHAT?!” Henry shouted in horror.

Henry grabbed William’s hand and attempted to pull it closer. “OW!” William shouted, pulling his hand away and holding it with his back towards Henry. “Careful! It hurts!” William yelled, rubbing it.

“You’re gonna infect it! Just let me look at it!” Henry begged.

“No! You’re gonna infect it more than I will!” William exclaimed as he carefully put his spider into his shirt pocket.

“No I won’t.” Henry grabbed the back of William’s right hand and gently brought it closer to himself. “See?” Henry asked. William nodded and relaxed a little before finally letting a smile show up on his lips.

Henry looked around William’s upper and lower wrist. But weirdly enough, there were no marks on there. “I...don’t see anything.” Henry commented as he checked the rest of his hand. His entire hand was completely markless. Henry lifted an eyebrow in confusion. But everything quickly clicked into place when William let out a single snicker.

...Excuse me?

“You...little SHIT!” Henry proclaimed in anger. William finally let the facade fall and bursted out laughing. Henry growled and pushed him away. “Why?!” Henry asked.

William continued to laugh at him. “Cause it was funny!” William told him as he lifted his hand up with the spider on his fingertips.

“I was worried!” Henry told him.

“For 5 seconds, but that’s it.” William replied.

“5 seconds too many.” Henry added.

“It was just a small prank. Can’t you handle a small prank?” William asked.

“Not a prank that potentially risks your life.” Henry shot back.

Despite the laughs, William was feeling a bit of guilt as well. As he calmed down, William tried to come up with what to tell him. He could tell him he regretted it, but...that would be straight up lying because that prank was fun to do despite the angry reaction. He could tell him he was sorry, but...he was worried that wasn’t enough in this situation. He could at least start with that, but he needed something else to say, in order for the apology to flow into something nicer.

William decided to let the first part out and let the second phrase come out naturally.

“Listen: I’m sorry, Henry. I’m sorry I freaked you out and made you worry over nothing.” William told him. But his snickers were still slightly showing through his apology, so it most likely couldn’t be taken like he hoped.

All that left Henry, was a scoff. William figured he would say that. So...he used a bit of logic. “Listen...Little Junior may have fangs. But as long as you don’t threaten it, it won’t bite you.” William explained.

Henry’s attitude seemed to slightly improve, but he was still annoyed. “You patted its head. I’m surprised it didn’t actually bite you.” Henry responded.

“I’ll be honest, I’m surprised by that too.” William said, pausing for a moment. “But there’s something I want you to know:” William added. Henry turned his head towards William with his frown somewhat softened. “Your reaction broke me.” William told him.

Henry narrowed his eyes and let a smile show up on his face as he turned more to face his friend. “How so?” Henry asked.

“Well...It made me happy to see just how much you care.” William said briefly, but nicely.

“...Wait, really?” Henry reacted.

“Really!” William replied.

Henry let out a laugh and shook his head with a smile on his face. “Wow. So you’re not exactly the most heartless being on the planet then…” Henry joked.

William gasped and placed a hand on his chest. “Ow! I’m offended by that statement!” William exclaimed dramatically.

“Oooh! Being sassy now, huh?” Henry clarified with a smirk. “I may need to punish you for that.” Henry warned.

William guffawed. “Puh-lease...What are you gonna do? Put me on a time out?” William joked.

Henry took one look at William’s pocket and smirked. “Hmmm...Nope!” Henry replied before looking towards the dining tables. “Chica! William stole something!” Henry told her.

Almost immediately, Chica’s eyes glowed and his body moved to face her creator. Quickly, Chica walked herself over with Carl the cupcake in hand and stared at Henry the whole way while she walked. “You reported a thief in the pizzeria! Please name who may be a suspect.” Chica ordered.

Henry chuckled, but went along with it. “William Afton.” Henry told her.

Chica turned to William and pointed at him. “You are being suspected of stealing. If you stole something, please give it back or I will have to body search you.” Chica ordered.

William sent Henry a disappointed expression. “...Seriously?” William asked.

Henry nodded his head. “I wanted to test this out, anyway. And since were being a douche a few seconds earlier…” Henry explained before trailing off.

Chica scanned William with her eyes and stared at his shoulder. “There’s a spider on your shoulder.” Chica mentioned.

“I know.” William said.

“William Afton has a bobblehead in his pocket. I will remove it for you.” Chica told him.

William shook his head and zipped up the zipper on his pants before his pocket was touched. Chica picked up William with one hand and attempted to pull the pocket open.

“Thahat’s not how it- WHOHOhohohohoa! Chihihica, cahahaharefuhuhuhul!” William jumped suddenly. Chica ignored his pleas and only continued to try and get into the man’s pocket. William doubled over and continued to laugh and giggle. “Plehehehease stahahahap ihihihihit! Yohohohou’re tihihicklihihing mehehehe!” William protested.

Chica’s hand seemed to have stopped for only a moment. The lens in both her eyes started to zoom in and out as Chica went through an animatronic version of ‘processing’. William must’ve noticed a change in her eyes, because the man quickly became weary and defensive, despite the height and weight difference between the two.

Chica brought William closer, turned him around so Afton’s back was facing Chica’s beak and started squeezing William’s hips. “AAAAH! NAHAHAHAHA- NOHOHOHOHOHO!” William shouted.

“Mr. Afton refuses to give back the toy. So some persuading is needed to convince him…” Chica explained as she continued to squeeze his sensitive hips.

William’s laughter grew and died down with each and every squeeze, leading to some very interesting and amusing reactions. Not only was his happy face genuinely fun to watch, but his giggles and instinctively kicks of the feet seemed to present a more...cuter side of William.

Henry smiled happily at his friend. “Ain’t this an adorable sight to behold? It looks like William over here, is very ticklish!” Henry reacted.

William laughed heavily with his head tipped back. “IHI’M GOHOHONNA DROHOHOHOP AHAY-JAHAHAHAY!” William begged. Chica didn’t listen though, and continued to squeeze his hips in patterns.

Quickly, Henry ran up to Chica. “Chica! Stop!” He ordered.

Upon the command, Chica stopped squeezing and looked to her left side. “Yes, Mr. Emily?” Chica greeted.

“That spider on William’s shoulder...is AJ.” Henry explained. “William befriended it.” Henry told Chica with a slight shudder. Chica looked towards the spider and offered her hand to it. Funnily enough, the spider grew to trust Chica super quickly because before long, the spider was sitting still on Chica’s big hand.

Chica turned towards Henry and brought her hand closer. “Can you hold this for me?” Chica asked.

Almost instinctively, Henry jumped back and nervously held his arms up in defence. He shook his head profusely. “No. No no no no no. I hate spiders. That-that thing can be set free, for all I care.” Henry said, stuttering a little bit.

William frowned. “Hey! Be nice!” William warned.

Henry moved his arms into the surrender position. “What?! You’re lucky I can actually control what comes out of my mouth!” Henry reacted.

“Let me guess: you wanna set it on fire and let it burn alive?” William guessed.

Henry hung his head guiltily. “...I mean…” Henry muttered.

William scoffed and shook his head. “Knew it.” William replied in a slight annoyed voice.

Chica placed the wolf spider onto the stage and almost immediately tried tickling William again. William squeaked and bursted out laughing as he struggled to get her hand away from him. Finally, William decided to give up.

“Ohohokahahay, ohohohokahahahahayyy! Ihihi’ll gihihihive ihit uhuhup, just STAHAhahahahap!” William shouted at her.

Chica smiled and stopped her hand. William took a moment to breath before he unzipped his pocket and pulled the bobblehead out. Chica opened her jaw in surprise as she grabbed the bobblehead and stared at it. “Wow! It’s me!” Chica declared happily.

“Yes it is.” William replied.

Chica placed William down and walked away with the bobblehead. Henry walked up to William and started poking him in the sides and squeezing him in the hips.

“Wahahahait, Henry nohohoho! Yohohohou-” William giggled as he attempted to return the pokes. But Henry didn’t react at all, and only doubled his poking! “WHAHAHAHAT?! YOHOHOU’RE NOHOHOT-”

“Nope! Not ticklish there!” Henry declared triumphantly as he started scratching and squeezing the jackpot spots.

It didn’t take long for William to fall onto his knees in weakness. When that happened, Henry moved in front of his friend and happily increased the tickles dramatically, forcing William to fall onto his back in hysterics. The best part (or the worst part for William), was that Henry couldn’t be tickled back no matter how much William tried! And trust me, he tried EVERYWHERE!

The sides were no good, the ribs just hurt slightly, and the armpits were utterly pointless! His belly was a bust, his belly button was just as useless, and his hips didn’t even increase Henry’s smile. He was insensitive to a tee, and it left William frustrated as he laughed, squealed and cackled.

But finally, as if Chica was given empathy, Henry screamed and stumbled back, halting the tickle attack altogether. William looked at him in confusion, before realizing the reason when Carl winked at him: Chica (or Carl) must’ve grabbed AJ and shoved him down Henry’s back! William bursted out laughing at the hilarious moment. Soon though, pity finally overtook William and helped AJ get out from under his shirt. By the time AJ was back in William’s hands, Henry was trembling like a flame and stuttering from the feeling of 8 legs crawling all over his back and shoulders. William ended up having to give AJ to Chica so he could hug the poor man. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for Henry to go back to his old self and resume the tickle attack. And with William in his arms, Henry had proudly trapped a wild Afton in his fingers forever!

...Or, until he lets him go, of course...

[addictofsupernatural]

Secret Barista

Katsuki Bakugo x reader

Summary: Y/n is too embarrassed to tell anyone about her job, but her crush knows something's up.

Word Count: 3.0k

UA was not cheap. It needed to get extra funds from somewhere, so admissions fees were charged. It was a fancy school, which meant it came with a fancy price tag. Your parents didn't have the kind of money to just pay for it, so they told you that you had to earn your spot if you wanted to be there.

You didn't want to tell anybody about your job, especially not when some of your classmates come from important and rich families. The only one who would most likely understand was Uraraka, but her parents were lucky enough to get a loan. Yours weren't.

So there you were, uniform in your backpack, walking down the common areas. "Oi, loser," Bakugo said, leaning back on one of the couches. "Where the hell are you going?"

Then there was Bakugo. You had a huge crush and was absolutely smitten with him for some time now. Ever since that day he quietly gave you tips on how to improve your fighting stance before silently walking away, you knew he was a nice person deep down.

"Hey Baku," you childishly waved at him, even though you were three feet away from him. "What're you doing here alone?"

"Shitty hair should be coming soon."

"Mm. Study buddy?"

He gave you a tch. "Yeah." He mumbled.

"Well look at you." You teased. You leaned on the couch opposite from him. "Aren't you just the nicest person. Helping out your friends and all."

"Heh, yeah right. Shitty hair's been whining and shit about his grades, and I just want him to shut up for once."

"Hm, I see. Well, remember, nice deeds means you're a hero at heart, so I don't think it's so bad to be secretly sweet." He gave you a blank expression, which you took as a win since there was no longer a scowl there. You then checked your phone. "Oh, gotta go. Bye bye!"

"Hey, you never answered my questions stupid!"

"I'm just going out!" You called out, leaving him there to be annoyed. He could see right through your lie. Why were you lying to him? You were the one who insisted that the two of you were best friends, and yet you also had the nerve to keep something from him?

That night you got some bad news. There was new management, and they wanted people to work longer shifts. Those who didn't were going to gradually just stop getting shifts altogether, since they weren't dedicated enough. That meant you were going to have to go on less sleep from now on.

The next night Bakugo saw you leaving again, and this time decided he was going to question you about it. Except you came back way later than he thought. You were trudging yourself through the doors damn near one in the morning.

Bakugo stood up from the couch and crossed his arms. "Where the hell have you been?!"

"Bakugo? You usually sleep early. Why are you up so late?"

"That's what I'm asking you idiot! Do have any idea how late you are?! There's a curfew!"

"Please don't yell. And don't worry, I have a permission note signed by the principal." You sounded exhausted. You then took a step closer, putting your hands on his shoulders. "Please listen. I've had a really bad night and I just want it to end. When I'm ready to tell you about what's going on, I will. Promise."

He could tell how tired you were, and felt kind of bad about it. He slightly nodded, mumbling, "Okay."

You smiled. "Thanks Bakugo. I knew you were my best friend." You then let him go and began walking to your dorm. "Good night."

"...Night."

Throughout the next week Bakugo could tell that you were getting more and more tired. You didn't smile as much and you began to eat less. Bakugo hated it. It was worrying him. He didn't know how he was supposed to help you without making it obvious to everyone else that he was crushing on you.

That was until the Monday in Aizawa's class. You two were sitting on a bench outside waiting for your turns in the exercises, when he felt you lean on his arm. He looked down to see you sleeping against him. He only stared at you, not daring to move and possibly wake you up. That was until Kirishima and Kaminari began snickering at the sight.

"What the hell is so funny?!"

You then stirred awake, and Bakugo wanted to punch himself for blowing that moment. You brought your head up and gave him a sleepy smile, rubbing his arm. "Oh, I'm sorry Katsuki."

Sometimes you called him by his first name, usually when you weren't really thinking normally. Bakugo felt like it would make sense if he said something about it, but he liked the way it sounded coming from you.

"Whatever. Sleep at night loser."

You playfully hit his shoulder and let out a teasing gasp. "I've been doing it wrong this whole time. See, I told you you're a genius."

He gave you a small smile in return, which was cut short due to Kaminari walking up to you two. "Y/l/n, you look exhausted."

You chuckled. "Wow, are my eye bags that bad?"

He only nervously shook his head in response after seeing Bakugo's death glare. Kirishima, who wasn't afraid of Bakugo, spoke up for his friend. "It's not that bad. Tea is a good way to relieve stress that causes them."

You nodded. "Good to know, thanks."

The next day in class you walked over to your desk in the back to find a cup of tea there. On the cup, it had nice writing on it. Don't sleep on anymore people. Instead of a name being signed, there was just a drawing of a grenade.

You grinned and happily drank it during class. Once class was over you two walked to the cafeteria together. He was dead silent and kept looking straight ahead, which meant it was your duty to start the conversation.

"So, there's this really awesome hero. Total badass and secretly super nice to me. His name is Dynamite, so if you see him can you tell him that he's amazing for me?" He finally looked at you, and you smiled in response. "Hi."

"Hey." He mumbled.

"Thank you."

He had his blank expression on. "Sure." It was almost inaudible.

You went to your spot in the cafeteria and sat next to each other as usual. While you were waiting for Kirishima and Kaminari to come back with their lunch, Bakugo plopped a container full of food in front of you. "What's this?"

"Your lunch. Eat." He stared at his own meal as he said this, already eating it.

You giggled. "What's up with the amazing gifts today?" Instead of answering, he only shot you a glare and kept eating. "No reason I should know about?" You teased, though he looked away from you. You patted his back playfully. "That's okay, you're still the best."

The other two boys showed up and began talking with you about the day, with Bakugo only making a comment here and there. He was about to say something, but fell silent when he saw you put the lid back on the container with half the food still uneaten. He didn't notice as you waved to the two boys leaving for their next class.

"Oi, what the hell?!" You turned to him with a confused look on your face, which only ticked him off even more. "I didn't cook you food for you to just throw it away!"

"Oh, I'm not throwing it away." You nervously laughed. "I, um, actually have a smaller appetite now, but I was gonna save it for dinner. It was really good." You nudged him with your shoulder. "You're a really great cook."

He gave you a tiny smile, though that smile went right away as the bell rang. "Whatever. Move your ass."

You walked in silence and grinned stupidly. "I like your smile—"

"Shut up." You giggled in response.

Over the week Bakugo had brought you lunch everyday, as well as tea twice. Whenever you tried thanking him he would brush you off. He was just glad that you were smiling more. But you were also still exhausted. He scolded you when you asked for his notes, which you never do, but immediately stopped when you shut down and apologized quietly. He couldn't wait for you to tell him what was wrong anymore, he needed to find out himself.

You didn't notice the next night when he followed you, or when he saw you go into the back of a coffee shop. He inspected the place. It was usually busy due to tourists in the area. He went inside and took a seat, not long before you came out with a work uniform on.

You had a job. If you were hiding it from him, then that meant that there was an embarrassing reason for having the job. Was it money problems?

His thoughts were cut off by a guy with the manager name tag yelling at this girl. He was going on about how worthless her working there was and to not waste his time and money anymore. He then pushed his way to the back, bumping you on the way and almost causing you to spill your drink.

He decided not to yell at the manager, though he had a very strong urge to, in order to spare you your pride. He went back to the dorms building and waited for what felt like forever for you to come back. You came in slouching, absolutely drained from the day. That was when you saw Bakugo standing there, arms crossed with a scowl on his face.

"Katsuki, what are you doing up? Can you not sleep? I have some medicine if you're feeling too sick to—"

"You have a job."

That woke you up. You knew he wouldn't make such random statements without evidence. You looked down to your feet. "...You found out."

"That's why you've been always tired lately. Why do you have that job?"

"Can we please talk about this another—"

"No. Why do you have that shitty job?"

You bit your lip. "Can you turn around first?" He just stared at you. Your voice sounded like you were going to cry. "Please?"

He hesitantly turned around. "Okay. Now you have to answer."

You nodded. "Okay. I, um, I have to keep this job. My parents can't afford the admissions fee for UA. If I want to be here, I need to earn it."

He fought the urge not to look back and tell at you for such an absurd comment. "You earned being at this school by being accepted."

You shook your head and took a shaky breath. "That's not what I mean. I need to earn being here to my parents. They don't expect me to just pick a fancy school and not worry about the consequences for them. That's just disrespecting them. Ugh, this is really humiliating for me, especially in front of you! There are other people here with big families that show respect their parents by being here. And here I am feeling like I'm gonna cry because it feels like I'm driving myself crazy and I can't stop going 100% all the time without failing at everything I've been working towards."

He heard your whimper, and sucked up all of his pride when he said, "Close your eyes."

"Huh?"

"Just close them."

You covered your face with your hands. "Okay. They're closed." You suddenly felt hands come and move your arms to take off your backpack. Strong arms then wrapped around you, bringing you into a muscular chest. You felt a chin rest on the top of your head. He was hugging you. You wrapped your own arms around his waist, closing your eyes and whispering, "I'm just so tired Katsuki."

He rubbed your back soothingly, and you calmed your breathing. "I'll fix this." He said after a long silence.

"What?"

You tried to look up at him, but he squeezed you tighter, silently asking you not to. You chose to not press about it. He didn't like showing anyone his softer side, and you didn't want to embarrass him.

"Thank you. I really needed this." You then brought back your hands to cover your eyes. "Don't worry. I'll count to ten so you can leave. Is that okay?"

"Heh." You could only imagine if he was smiling. "Yeah." He paused before saying, "Good night."

"Good night!" You grinned. When you opened your eyes you didn't see him there. You happily picked up your backpack and went to your dorm.

The next day the weekend started. You asked Bakugo if he wanted to hang out, but he told you he had something to do with his family. But he hated hanging around his cousins. You were starting to get worried that you screwed up your friendship. So you were left with only your paranoia to keep you company all day.

On Sunday there was a sudden knock at your door, and when you answered Bakugo was looking at you expectantly. "Get ready. We're going to my house."

"Um, okay?" You hoped he would elaborate, but he just nodded and walked away. You got out of your pajamas and walked to the common area, where he was waiting for you. "So why are we going there?"

"Is there a problem with my house?"

"No, but—"

"Then just trust me idiot!" You only nodded. You both walked in silence, and he bursted through the door. "Oi, we're here!"

You had only been to Bakugo's house twice. The first time was to help him bake sweets for his family's Christmas meal. The second time was for his birthday, and you were with Kaminari and Kirishima. You loved it there, and you loved his parents.

"Your daughter's here!" You grinned as you poked your head into the kitchen.

"Hey! Long time no see!" Mitsuki smiled. You ran into her hug. She ruffled your hair and pinched your cheeks.

"Did you miss me?" You giggled out.

"I missed your cooking. My son's going to burn the house down without you here."

"Shut up you old hag!"

As the two started arguing, Masaru walked into the kitchen. "Hi Mr. Bakugo!"

"Welcome back y/n." He gently patted your head. "Cookies?"

"Cookies!" You made grab hands at the container he took out of a cupboard. He opened it for you as you took one out, taking a bite and nodding in satisfaction. "You're the best at making this stuff Mr. Bakugo."

"Thanks y/n. Could you please come to the living room for me?"

You happily followed him. "Anything for you my father." He chuckled.

Your smile went away as soon as you saw your parents sitting on the couch. You respectfully bowed.

"Did you get tired of working?" Your mother asked. You shook your head. "Then you shouldn't be going around complaining to everyone. It's like you're trying to get other families to pity you, which embarrasses us!"

"But I wasn't—"

"Speak," She silenced you. "When told to."

Mitsuki came from behind you and put a hand on your shoulder. "Take my son to his room for me kiddo."

You nodded and quickly left with Bakugo to his room. Once you closed the door, Bakugo let out a tch. "Your parents get on my nerves."

"Baku, what's going on?"

He plopped on his bed and laid down in a nonchalant-like way. "They're gonna give your annoying ass parents a loan. That way you'll quit your shitty ass job. No more taking crap from that manager."

"But what if they get mad and pull me out of school?!"

"Keh. When has my old hag of a mom ever learned to take no for an answer?"

You grinned and sighed in relief before patting his stomach. "Scoot over." He did so with his unreadable expression. You laid next to him and the two of you faced each other. "Thank you Bakugo. You're my hero."

He smirked. "I know that already dumbass."

"If there's any way I can repay you or if I can do anything for you, just say the word."

His smile faded. "If you really mean it..."

You grinned and nodded. He put his hand over your eyes. "Are we hugging again?"

"No."

Before you could question him he brought his lips to yours. He was hesitant about pressing further, but did so and kissed you a little roughly. It was sloppy and inexperienced, making it all the better. You moved your hand to the back of his neck to press on with the kiss, and his hand went from your eyes to getting tangled in your hair.

You both pulled back for air as you rested your foreheads on one another. "I've been craving Tai food." He suddenly said. "Tommorow, at 11."

You chuckled. "Hm, are you asking or commanding?"

He grinned. "Commanding."

You giggled. "That's not how that works."

"Then, can I ask you something?" He mumbled. You sat up and patted him to get up as well, him doing so. You nodded. "Will you be my girlfriend?" He looked away from you, muttering, "Please?"

You grinned, nodding and kissing him. "That was perfect." You said against his lips. "Thank you Bakugo." You then excitedly gasped and leaned back. "So can I call you Katsuki from now on then?!"

He yanked you into a hug. "You always could idiot."

You hugged back, only separating from him when you heard footsteps. It was your dad. "Quit your job, and don't worry about it."

You kept a straight face. "Thank you sir." He nodded and closed the door.

You looked back to Bakugo and threw yourself into a hug with him. He brought your head up and smirked. "Good, cause I'll be pissed if you fall asleep on our date tomorrow."

---

Author's Note: This is my first MHA fic. I hope I wrote Bakugo good. ╮(. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)╭

[mandoalorian]

Brave Girl [Din Djarin x Reader]

Summary:  Murphy’s Law— “Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.”

You’re full term and your little one will be here any day now. You and Din plan on leaving Nevarro and starting a new life together... but maybe some things just aren’t mean to be.

Warnings: Major character death, brief mention of injury. A lot of heartache.

Ship: Fem! Reader x Din Djarin

Based on this tweet:

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Enjoy!<3

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This shouldn’t have gone wrong – and yet it had.

Everything that could have gone wrong, did.

They had a plan. One last bounty, they agreed, and then they would finally have enough credits to leave Nevarro and start a peaceful life as a clan of three on Bakura. Bakura was the rich green planet you were brought up on, located in the outer rim of Wild Space and it served as one of the largest commercial hubs in the region. It was home, and you were so excited to start a new life there with the love of your life, and your newborn. But it wasn’t perfect. There was someone missing. Someone you and Din missed so dearly, The Child, who had passed away a year prior after sacrificing himself to save his father’s life. After Din had lost his son, he felt responsible. No matter how much you reassured the Mandalorian, he couldn’t escape the memory of the Child’s final moments. That was another reason you had to leave Nevarro. Too many bad memories. Too much pain. You believed that Din’s heart would heal upon the birth of his daughter. A new life with him and your newborn was everything you needed.

Being a bounty hunter was dangerous work, but you knew that Din was a professional. As Greef Karga would always say, “The best bounty hunter in the parsec.” He always came home safe, minus a few scratches and cuts. But he didn’t need this job anymore and he was finally ready to leave. Not only leave Nevarro. Not only leave the bounty hunter Guild. But also, leave the Mandalorian Creed.

Becoming a Mandalorian was never a choice for Din. He was orphaned at such a young age after his parents died during the Clone Wars. However shortly after his parents’ untimely demise he was rescued by the Death Watch. If he wanted any chance of survival, Din Djarin knew he had to swear to the Creed, and so he did. But he was getting older now, and tired, and if he wanted a solid chance of a fresh, peaceful life he knew he had to give up ‘the way’. He would hate for his newborn to become a foundling like he was, he would hate to see her taken against her will and forced to join the Creed. It was a dangerous life. No life for a daughter of Din Djarin’s. Din was going to be the best father and he was so excited to meet his little girl. He counted down the days to her arrival.

Only one more week.

You stood on your tippy toes and placed your palms on either side of his beskar helmet. “I can’t wait to take this off,” you chuckled eagerly, tracing your fingers in the dents and sculpts of the mask. Although you and Din had been together for a long time and had an extremely intimate relationship, you had never seen his face. No living thing had seen the Mandalorian without his helmet since he had sworn to the Creed. But Din had promised you that you would be the person to take off his mask. You dreamt everyday about his face, imagining how he would look. You thought about the colour of his hair, the pigment of his cheeks and the shade of his eyes. “I can’t wait to see you, look into your eyes. I can’t wait…” you let your voice trail off. He linked his fingers into yours.

“I love you Cyar’ika,” he told you as he guided you into the garden.

“I love you too Mando,” you beamed back at him.

Din crouched to his knees and put his gloved hand on your full term stomach. “And I love you, Ad’ika.”

You and Din felt her kick, resulting in you both falling into a fit of giggles. “I think that means she loves you too.” You laughed. Din was calling the child Ad’ika which was Mando’a for “little one”, only temporarily until you had both figured out a name for her – but the nickname had grown on you too. You knew you would always be Din’s Cyar’ika and no matter how old your daughter got, she would always be her father’s Ad’ika.

“Yeah.” Din agreed, unable to contain his grin under his helmet. “Are you ready to do this?” He asked, bring his hand up to cup your cheek.

You looked up at the clear blue sky above you, hearing the birds tweet and chirp, and then looked back at Din. It was untraditional, that’s for sure. Never in a million years did you think you would have an impromptu Mandalorian wedding ceremony in your quaint back garden. “I am.”

“So just repeat after me,” The Mandalorian instructed, but his tone was gentle and filled with compassion. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde.”

 You obliged. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde.”

 Din pulled you into his chest. “So… wife?”

 “Mm, I guess so.” You laughed again. “But why the Mando’a wedding vows when you’re leaving the Creed so soon? I told you Din, we could’ve just waited until we got to Bakura and had a big ceremony with my family.”

 “We can still have a ceremony when we get to Bakura, Cyar’ika,” Din reassured you with a tight squeeze of your hand. “You know I will give you anything you want. But I couldn’t wait another day without making you mine.”

 “I’ll always be yours.” You told him with a warm smile that lit a fire in his stomach. He was weak for you and only you.

 “So… the Mando’a wedding vows,” Din continued his initial statement. “I’m a Mandalorian. Maybe next week I won’t be a Mandalorian, but right now, I’m a Mandalorian. And this is-“

 “This is the way.” You cut him off and Din’s grin grew even bigger at your words. He loved how you respected the Creed as it had been his way of life for so long. You kissed his forehead, the cool beskar of his helmet stinging your lips. “You’ll be safe, right?”

 “Always.” Din promised you.

 “You’re so brave.” You admired your new husband.

 “Kotep.” Din replied and you looked up at him in confusion. “It means brave, in Mando’a. My two girls are…”

 “Kotep.” You completed his sentence and Din nodded his head slowly, pulling you into his body of armour.

 “Brave.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

 You rested your head into his chest and he held you for a few moments before he had to leave for his final bounty. Something didn’t feel right. Maybe it was the stress of being so near to your due date, or the fact you had planned to move to a whole new planet in a whole new system, or maybe the fact you had just gotten married. A cloud of unease and apprehension hung over you, and you wondered if the Mandalorian felt the same. You chose not to tell him your feelings. You didn’t want to worry him.

 Leaving the house that morning was the first thing to go wrong. He should have never took a bounty so dangerous – not at his age, and not for his last one.

 Not long after Din had left you felt an intense pain in your lower stomach, a pulling feeling. You let out a scream of agony, almost falling to your knees but grabbing on to your bed post to keep you upright. You knew instantly. Contractions. Ad’ika had decided she wanted to come early. You dragged yourself over to Din’s bedside table and scrambled to find one of his Comm links, before patching yourself through to The Armorer.

 “Din…” as you said his name the pain started again, but this time more intense. You let out a scream. “He’s… bounty.” You breathed out. “Baby…”

 The Armorer knew immediately you had fallen into an early labour. “I’m sending a med droid your way,” She informed. You let out a strained hum in response, unable to form words as the contractions grew more and more intense. “Tell me, where is Din Djarin? Did he tell you where his bounty was?”

 “Lava… lava fields.” You were struggling to catch your breath.

 “Okay,” the Armorer said. “You hang in there, a med droid will be over soon and I will send Paz Vizla to the lava fields to inform Din Djarin of the good news. The birth of a foundling… I congratulate you both.” And then the comm went silent.

 Neither you nor Din had told anyone of your plans to leave the Guild, leave Nevarro and leave the Creed. It was your little secret. And so, as far as The Mandalorian Cohort were concerned, your little one, would become a foundling, trained under her father. But you and Din both agreed that wasn’t the life you wanted for your little girl. Perhaps your daughter’s birth meant that you and Din had to pack up and leave earlier than you had initially planned.

 Your contractions came in waves, and as they calmed down you climbed into your bed, shivering and feeling restless. You needed Din. You needed the healing touch of your husband, his calm words and soothing voice. You needed him more than you ever had and still, this cloud of anxiety hung over you. A dark energy surrounding you. You couldn’t describe it. You just had to hold on until the med droid arrived. As the contractions became closer together, you processed many different thoughts, trying to find your happy place. You remembered that it wouldn’t be long until you were able to see your husband’s beautiful face for the first time. You imagined yourself taking his helmet off under the moonlight, in the isolated fields of Bakura. You rubbed your tummy gently, closing your eyes, trying to remember the Mando’a words of the lullaby that Din would always sing to calm the Ad’ika down. You must have been getting it wrong because the pain only grew worse and worse. You needed your husband and your child needed her father.

  When Paz Vizla arrived at the lava fields, it was empty – not a soul in sight. He walked to the tunnel entrance where the underground Mandalorian cohort was located and saw his friend’s lifeless corpse on the ground. Paz ran to him, and fell to his knees, picking up Din Djarin’s body and nursing it in his arms. Paz felt for pulse, but there was nothing. Din wasn’t wearing armour. He wasn’t wearing his helmet. They had been removed. His skin was bruised and it looked as though he had definitely put up a fight. Paz immediately thought of the Jawa’s who might have scrapped his corpse for the beskar. But as Paz looked over Din’s ripped tunic and blood stained garments, he found the fatal wound made by what could only be the ancient Mandalorian weapon. The darksaber. It was more malicious than the work of Jawa’s.

 “Moff Gideon,” Vizla hissed under his breath. Moff Gideon had been on the hunt for Din Djarin for the longest time, and only he had hold of that weapon. He picked up Din’s body and took him underground to the cohort, presenting him to the Armorer. Paz went to open his mouth, but no words could come out. The Armorer, who had been crafting a Clan of Three signet for Din Djarin, dropped her tools and slowly approached Din, placing a hand on his cold forehead. “What do we do?” Paz asked the Armorer, his heart wrenching in pain as he remembered you were carrying Din Djarin’s child.

 “By creed, the child is a foundling.” The Armorer said. “You are to be the bearer of bad news, and tell Y/N about the passing of her love,” Paz shifted uncomfortably. “And then, you are to take the child.”

 Paz hesitated. “And the mother?” It felt wrong, to separate the daughter from her mother upon her father’s death – but the Armorer just shook her head.

 “This is the way.” She stated. “Leave Djarin’s body with me, and I will give him the Mandalorian send off. You are to collect the child and bring her to the cohort where we will begin the adoption ceremony.”

 Silence filled the tunnels.

 “Din Djarin was like my brother.” Paz said softy.

 “And so, his child will be in your care. I trust you Paz. You are to train young Djarin until she is old enough to be sworn to the Creed. It is what Din would have wanted.”

 Paz nodded his head, following the Armorer’s instruction. “This is the way.” He replied, before placing Din Djarin’s body down and leaving the cohort.

    “Push.” The med droid commanded, and you followed their instruction.

“Breathe.” The med droid told you, and you shakily exhaled, wiping the beads of sweat from your forehead.

Your glazed eyes met the silhouetted figure who stood by the doorframe of your bedroom, in full bodied Mandalorian armour. “Din!” You exclaimed, reaching out your hand for him to hold. The Mandalorian entered the room, his walk mellow and slow. He took your hand, and sat by your bed. With your other hand, you wiped the tears from your eyes, your vision focusing on the Mandalorian. “Paz?” You asked, confused and hurt to see it was not your beloved. Paz was silent but squeezed your hand as you were commanded by the med droid to push again. As you exhaled, you ripped your hand away from Paz’s grip. “Why… why are you here?” You said, your voice shaky. “Where is Din?”

Paz didn’t reply. You pushed more. Exhaled. Repeated the process. “Where… is… he?” You said frustrated through gritted teeth. “Paz… what is going… on?” Paz didn’t say anything – but you felt it. The dark energy around you. Your heart sank into your chest and tears brimmed your eyes, not letting your mind wander to those bad places, you persisted.

“The Armorer said you’d bring him to me,” You told Paz after what felt like your hundredth round of pushing and exhaling. “So why are you here, and he isn’t? Are you going to tell me anything?”

“Keep pushing.” Paz said, his voice gentle.

“Where is he?!” You cried out in rage, feeling your cheeks burn red with anger. “Where is he Paz?!”

“Push.” The med droid commanded and you shook your head angrily.

“Is he hurt? Is he injured?” You quizzed.

“No.” Paz replied. “Keep push-“

“Is he…” you couldn’t even bring yourself to say the word. You felt sick, you felt empty. Paz’s response was delayed, but eventually he slowly nodded his head. You felt your spirit leave your body. You felt your heart shatter into a million pieces. You felt a deep, dark, stabbing pain. All the pain from the labour had disappeared and you were filled with something much worse. You froze, staring at the wall behind Paz, blinking away the tears as they fell down your cheeks.

“Push.” The med droid interrupted your thoughts but you stayed frozen.

“I can’t.” You whispered. You had lost all hope.

“Hey,” Paz said. “Hey look at me.” Your dead eyes met with his visor and if you had the energy or the muscle you would have killed him in that very moment. “In a few minutes, you are going to have a daughter. You are going to be a mother, of a beautiful baby girl.” The sensitive words of that nature weren’t typically spoken by the Heavy Infantry Mandalorian.

“My daughter,” you repeated him, remembering that you were in the middle of a delivery.

“Din’s daughter.” Paz reminded you and you nodded your head slowly. This was Din Djarin’s daughter.

“Push.” The med droid commanded again and you focused all your pent up anger on pushing hard, letting out a scream of pain as you gave birth to your daughter. Paz stood up and walked by your legs, taking your daughter from the med droid’s arms and holding her in his. The child let out soft and gentle whimpers, but her eyes were open. Paz brought her to you and as you held her, it was like you fell in love all over again.

Her complexion was tan, she had big chocolate brown eyes and locks of curly brown hair. A little curve in her nose and small pink lips. You sniffed. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

“She looks like her father.” Paz commented and you grinned as quiet tears streamed down your face.

“She does?” You asked him. “How did he look? Tell me.”

Without hesitation Paz replied “Identical.” And your smile grew even wider. You looked down at Ad’ika in your arms, being careful not to let your tears fall on her delicate face.

“I love you so much. Daddy loves you so much. Our brave little girl,” You beamed at your daughter. You remembered the Mando’a word for brave, what Din had taught you earlier. “Kotep.” You looked up at Paz and smiled. “Brave, right?” Paz nodded. “Her name is Kotep’ika.”

“It’s beautiful.” Paz said.

“Mm,” you hummed. “Daddy’s brave little girl.”

“Push.” The med droid said and you remembered your delivery process wasn’t yet over. Paz took the child from your arms.

“The Armorer has placed Kotep’ika in my care. She is to be trained as a Mandalorian like her father, sworn to the creed.”

“No.” Your head snapped to Paz who was holding your daughter. He had swaddled her in a blanket. “No Paz, she stays here. With me.”

“By creed-“

“No Paz!” You shouted and went to get out of bed but the pain of your labour pushed you back down as the med droid ordered you to push.

“I will tell her the stories of her father, Din Djarin.”

“You can’t, you can’t do this. Paz. Paz please…” you felt yourself begin to slip out of consciousness.

The pain, the heartbreak. You couldn’t take it. The darkness enveloped you as you fell passed out in your bed.

“We are losing her,” the med droid informed Paz. “It seems that she is losing the will to live.”

Paz looked at Kotep’ika. He couldn’t help but think this was his fault. “This is the way.” He told himself, his decision final. Betraying the orders of the Armorer would be betraying the Creed. He could never do that. He held the little girl tight in his arms and the child screamed as he left the house, as she left her mother.

Paz followed his orders and went through with the plan, and you never awoke. You passed away hours after your husband and the child was in the hands of the Mandalorian’s, the one thing you and Din did not want. Your beautiful, brave daughter was orphaned and sworn into a dangerous life where she would grow up wishing to be half the fighter her father was, not ever knowing the side to her father that you knew. Not ever knowing his warm embrace or his gentle heart. But if you and Din Djarin were right about one thing; Kotep’ika was in fact the bravest of girls.

[strawberry-metal]

Thought I’d upload some more rp stuff since it’d probably be important for Giorno’s relation to everyone in our au for you guys to know, particularly the three sisters and Dio.

This is when Joseph and Avdol talk to the twins about Dio, the rest of the group already knows, takes place shortly after Shanna apologized to everyone for kinda being a...bitch. Writing is from an rp between @kazekothestrange and I for our au. No pictures to accompany it this time, I’m tired and hungry. :c

Dio in our au is a little different from canon. We wanted to have some JoJo antagonists to have a chance at redemption. Those two ended up being Dio and Pucci. We really wanted Mudad to actually be a thing in our story, see what would of happened if Dio was actually able to find someone to love instead of lust after, (look we all know Dio is a horny bisexual vampire lmao) and basically, see how that could affect his character, if he had something more to care about than trying to become essentially the ruler of the world. We also made him a little smarter and had him be a frequent traveler who would only settle down in a country for maybe a year before going to another one. So hes not in fricken Egypt the whole time.

Hopefully that summary will give you guys an idea! If you’re not a fan of it, that’s ok! Your opinion is valid! You don’t have to read the rp excerpt! For those who are, enjoy~

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Kazeko: JoJo, please. *she gently scolds him, having taken note of their insistence that their hand holding was nothing*

Joseph: Whaaaat?

Kakyoin: *he laughs, covering his mouth. what a weird, lively group*

Avdol: *he blinks in surprise* Jotaro....has a girlfriend?

Shanna: I'm his girlfriend!?

Rose: Pfu!

Jotaro: ... *his face turns red and all he can do is cover it with his hand to hide it, mumbling a few curse words*

Joseph: Ok, fine, fine, she's NOT your girlfriend!

Shanna: I'm not? :c

Holly: I think WE'RE confusing them now! Teehee~!

Jotaro: *he grumbles louder, tightening his grip around her shoulders*

Avdol: Ahh hahaha, s-sorry.

Kazeko: A-anyway! Mr. Avdol, what did you find out? Anything at all?

Jotaro: ... *letting out an exhale and thanking her mentally, he lowers his hand*

Shanna: *ahem* ....A-Anyway....Kakyoin, you better come hear me play, got it? If we're gonna be friends, you gotta hear me play at least once~!

Holly: *she smiles, glad the kids seem to be getting along just fine now*

Avdol: I will admit, I did get quite distracted, the Kujo library actually had some old folklore studies that I couldn't put down! As for the photo, even with the aid of my flames, it was still too dark to see anything.

Shanna: Hm? A photo? *she looks over, abruptly distracted from her conversation with Kakyoin and the other teens for now* Maybe I can take a look? I got hawk eyes!

Rose: I thought you had musician ears?

Kakyoin: *he perks up again* Video games-??

Shanna: Hai! Every little secret, collectable, route, ending, none of them escape me!

Avdol: Well...I suppose it can't hurt. *he hands the photo over to her*

Shanna: *she takes the photo and stares intensely at it* Hmm....

Rose: So...?

Shanna: *Suddenly, she lets out a gasp*

Avdol: My word! What do you see!?

Shanna: NOT A DAMN THING!

Kazeko: Ahaha... *she laughs good naturedly, sweatdropping*

Joseph: Oh well. *he sighs, shrugging* Maybe we'll need a microscope or something.

Jotaro: Microscopes aren't the same thing as magnifying glasses, old man.

Joseph: Well it's worth a try anyway!

Shanna: Mm, but there is one thing I must say....

Avdol: Oh? So there was something you noticed??

Shanna: This guy, he... looks REALLY familiar to me... why do you have tasteful nudes of him?

*Suddenly, everyone else but Rose and Shanna gain a look of shock that is quickly replaced by a serious look, Shanna recognizes Dio!?*

Joseph: You do?! *he puts a hand down heavily on the table, shaking the tea set* Where from?! Was he somewhere around here?

Kazeko: *raising from her seat slightly, she puts her hands on Joseph's shoulder* C-calm down JoJo, you don't need to pressure her!

Jotaro: *amidst the commotion, he looks down at the petite brunette in surprise. how could she know Dio? Even he didn't know the guy existed until yesterday*

Shanna: *she blinks multiple times in surprise* Ah- I can try to rack my brain around for some answers, its been some time since I've seen him.

Avdol: Please, anything at all will be of help!

Holly: Shanna-chan....*her eyebrows upturn* How do you know this man?

Shanna: G-Guys, you're kinda pressuring me, give me a moment to think, ok?

Rose: Shanna let me see. *she takes the photo and her eyes widen as well* He....Shanna, this is no mistaking it. This is HIM.

Shanna: Right!? There was no way it couldn't be! Is he some kind of a model now?

Rose: Shanna and I were acquainted with him when we were in our early teens.

Shanna: Hahaha! Yeah! Didn't he think we were orphaned or something and tried to take us in? Something about our teeth!

Avdol: Wh-What...? Do....Do you two have any idea just who this man is...?

Shanna: Sure I do! Hes a rich guy with a redhead spouse and has a son!

Rose: What was his name again....Dio?

Shanna: Yeah that's it!

Joseph: ... *he can feel his blood run cold. he feels simultaneously sick and like putting a hole through the wall behind him. this guy... Dio... so he's just been living carefree like that? He even has a family? Did he manipulate them?! How many peoples lives has he entered without them having a clue who they were dealing with?*

Kazeko: Wh... no... really? Wh-When? Where?? *she clasps a fistful of her cardigan, suppressing her nerves as best as she can*

Kakyoin: *his eyes widen. they really knew him so casually...? The man who brainwashed and sent him out to commit murder?*

Jotaro: *the raven haired male is equally speechless. he knows very little about him, but from what he's heard... these two are lucky to be alive*

Avdol: Wh-Why were you in contact with him in the first place?!

Shanna: Oi oi, calm down guys! I don't know what is suddenly up with all of you! Again, this was back when we were in our early teens! We were still living in Germany then! We've moved since and he probably has too!

Rose: You see, our parents wanted us to learn more about responsibility, so we ended up taking up baby sitting. We took care of his child for him while his wife and he went out at night.

Shanna: Yeah, we did it for him many times too! For some reason it was only ever at night though?

Avdol: *he looks worriedly at Joseph and Kazeko. Should they tell these girls the truth about him? Should they even get them involved in the first place?*

Holly: *she glances around at everyone in the room. She too, is unsure about letting these girls know the truth...*

Joseph: ... *he unclenches his fist* ... Girls... that man. Dio Brando... he's not what you think.

Kazeko: JoJo... *honestly, she's not surprised. even if he's calmed down over the years, he's still the straightforward one*

Shanna: *she raises an eyebrow* What do you mean by that?

Rose: Hes just a night owl with a family though?

Avdol: That’s... rather, he’s more like-

Joseph: He's a vampire. *halfway through Avdol's statement, he says it anyway*

Shanna: ....PAH! HAHAHA! Good one old man! You had me there for a moment~! *she grins and closes her eyes in a smile* Honestly, don't do that, you scared me for a second there~!

*none of their expressions are any less serious. it doesn't look like he's kidding*

Kakyoin: *he looks down and starts fidgeting with his hair. he knows all too well how true this is*

Rose: ...Err...you guys can drop the facade now...

Shanna: Eh? You guys are still at it? *she reopens her eyes* Come on, we're 17. We know vampires aren't real.

Holly: Papa-

Kazeko: ... we wish they weren't-

Joseph: I know it sounds like fairytales and nonsense, but I'm not trying to scare you. It's true.

Shanna: ....This joke has gone on for quite long enough, don't you think? *annoyance is becoming present on her face. Looks like the twins won't just believe words*

Avdol: Mr. Joestar... we can later. Ok?

Joseph: They deserve to know, Avdol.

Avdol: I'm not saying they don't. *he closes his eyes, threading his fingers together* I'm saying that another time is better. When we have proof to give them. Jotaro didn't believe us either, at first.

Shanna: *she leans in to Rose, mumbling* Oi...I feel kind of disrespected here, they're still at it-

Kakyoin: I- ... if I may...

Rose: *she responds in an equally quiet voice*  I understand. Let's just let them have their fun for now.

Kakyoin: I... Rose-sama. Shanna-san...?

Shanna: Oi oi Kakyoin, you better not be joining in on this. Seriously, if we're going to talk something scary and more realistic...what about Aka Manto~? *she smirks*

Rose: Hey let's not, you scare me everytime you talk about it.

Kakyoin: I am serious. ... that thing you pulled out of me, Jotaro? ... He put it there.

Shanna: Really Kak...? *she looks disappointed, but by the looks on everyone's faces...* Wait.... you're... actually serious?

Rose: Did....Shanna and I miss something important while we were getting Holly?

Kakyoin: ... Hai. *he nods, running his fingers over his bandaged forehead*

Joseph: Dio is out there somewhere, brainwashing people and sending them after our family. He's been trying to wipe us out since my grandfather was alive.

Shanna: Ok whoa whoa whoa wait....you are...gonna have to slow down ok? Explain it slowly in detail one at a time, because Rose and I haven't had a single bad encounter with this guy...

Rose: I apologize Mr. Joestar, but we're going to need something a little less...blunt maybe?

Avdol: Mr. Joestar, maybe the way we explained it to Jotaro will be best for them too?

Shanna: Jotaro, you knew about this as well??

Holly: *she fidgets, she doesn't like this topic coming back up, but maybe it... could keep these girls safe*

Jotaro: They told me about this as soon as they pulled me out of jail.

Shanna: Damn-

Joseph: Right... *he taps the photo on the table* See that star there? Does it look familiar?

Shanna: *she picks it back up to take a look at it* Now that you mention it...that looks like your birthmark, Jotaro...

Rose: Jotaro has a birthmark?

Jotaro: Mom and JiJi have it too.

Joseph: Everyone in the Joestar family has one.

Shanna: *she lowers the picture* If you...don't mind....

Holly: *she moves her hair out of the way so the twins can see the birthmark*

Joseph: *he pulls down the collar of his shirt as well*

Rose: So it really is true....then, does this mean Dio is related to you?

Kazeko: ...Not exactly...

Shanna: Thank you Joseph, Seiko. I know that was a bit rude.

Avdol: His body below his neck, doesn't belong to him.

Shanna: You have officially lost me.

Rose: What do you mean... doesn't belong to him???

Joseph: From the neck down, his body is my grandfather's. He cut off his head and used his body as a means to survive!

Shanna: What the fuck, I'm STILL lost!

Rose: Wait wait....there’s no way that is possible.

Joseph: I'm sorry girls, you're gonna have to suspend your disbelief.  ... look at that scar on his neck.

Rose: Pardon me, Mr. Joestar. But his hair is covering alot of it...I see a bit but tattoos are starting to become popular these days.

Shanna: Yeah...don't you think this is a little far fetched-?

Joseph: No, I don't. My grandmother saw him killed right in front of her.

Shanna: What...?

Avdol: *he threads his fingers together* Ah, but our spirits, otherwise known as stands, are pretty far fetched too, wouldn't you say? To the wider world, our gifts are seen as psychic powers.

Rose: Stands...?

Avdol: The spirits that follow you and fight for you? They are always by your side, and are the very manifestation of your fighting spirit, otherwise known as stands. I was born with mine.

Joseph: I know it's hard to believe, but everyone here is wrapped up in 'far fetched'. Hell... I don't doubt a whole lot these days.

Jotaro: ...You're right. Life's been fucking us over for a couple months.

Kakyoin: *he averts his eyes guiltily, having been a part of that*

Shanna: Oi, Jotaro...can you vouch for all he’s saying? *shes looking at him out of the corner of her eyes. This is all very hard to believe, but if Jotaro can vouch for it, then...*

Jotaro: ... *he sighs, taking her hand under the table and threading his fingers between hers* ... I believe them.

Shanna: *she sighs* I guess I got no choice then. I mean...we have been witnessing some pretty weird ass shit ourselves lately.

Rose: Avdol...you said you were born with your, um, 'stand'. Jotaro, Shanna and I didn't get ours until a few months ago.

Joseph: For Jotaro, it's because of Dio's awakening. But he's been out for a few years, so your stand was kind of delayed... Anyway, I don't know why you two got stands.

Kazeko: It could be your relation to him, somehow... or maybe an impactful life event?

Avdol: Or maybe even you both were born with them, but were late bloomers. I'm sorry, but we can't say for sure.

Shanna: I see... *she looks a little down about them not knowing the answer to this*

Holly: Ah...I..wouldn't worry about it too much! You both happened to get stands for reasons we may not fully know, Avdol-san said it's a gift, so be thankful for being granted psychic abilities!

Shanna: Y-Yeah, you're right. Sorry, I let things bug me too much.

Jotaro: *he gives her hair a pet* It's ok. You've got Earth, no matter how it happened.

Shanna: ...*a slight smile appears across her lips. She remembers how Earth even tested her when she first fully appeared, to deem her worthy enough to wield her. Maybe because of how destructive Mother Earth could truly be if commanded to be*

Rose: If I may touch on a rather...recent topic...*she glances at Kakyoin, worried that this will make him uncomfortable* You called that thing a...flesh bud. A mind controlling device?

Avdol: *he nods* It was implanted on him by Dio himself, as you know, it was attached to his very brain and mind controlling him to attack Jotaro. I don't know the details of how it happened, but Kakyoin is....VERY lucky. He shouldn't of been able to survive the removal. Not even the world's most skilled surgeon could remove it. Attempting to remove one will cause the flesh bud to go in you and try to take control of your brain as well. One wrong move during the removal could result in an instant death as well. Kakyoin had a year left to live at most if we left it in him. ....But Jotaro was the one who removed it, despite all odds and danger.

Rose: *she looks shocked at all this new information suddenly thrown at her. It wasn't just mind controlling, it was also a matter of life or death with Kakyoin*

Kakyoin: ... *he quietly takes a sip of tea. he's grateful.... really, incredibly grateful. but he's still processing Jotaro's decision.. he could have easily left him to die to preserve his own life*

Jotaro: ... *he gives Shanna's hand a squeeze* /... sorry I didn't think it over. I... panicked./ *he tells her telepathically, not wanting to admit it to anyone else* I just did it before I knew I would.

Joseph: Either way, I'm proud of you. *he smiles confidently at his grandson*

Shanna: /That's... just like you. You really are such a kind person, Jotaro./ *she tightens her own grip around his hand*

Rose: Avdol...if it's ok to ask...how do you know so much about the flesh bud?

Avdol: I've witnessed other people with the flesh bud before and could not help them...and I almost became a victim myself.

Shanna: What!?

Kazeko: *gently, she places a hand on his back. she knows it was a while ago, but still, it can't be easy for him to think about*

Joseph: It happened four months ago.

Avdol: *exhaling, he places his elbows on the table* It happened back in Egypt, I was returning back to my house, where I did my fortune telling. It was nighttime. And at the top of the stairs stood him, Dio. I was...terrified, but somehow, also calm? His charisma, beauty, and power was overwhelming...he said he heard that I had special powers, and wanted me to show him. It was then and there that the flesh buds appeared. Immediately, I knew I was in danger and ducked out the window. I ran away, I didn't dare stop. I knew the labyrinth like the back of my hand, and was able to make my escape. I was lucky, incredibly lucky.

Rose: I...I'm sorry. That must not of been easy to talk about... thank you for telling us.

Shanna: Avdol....

Avdol: *he shakes his head* Joseph, Kazeko and I together have been trying to locate Dio's location. You kids need not worry about this.

Shanna: O-Oi oi, we're not kids.

Avdol: *he chuckles* Apologies. Teenagers.

Shanna: Hmph-

Kakyoin: ... Avdol-san... I'm glad you escaped. ... /I never want anyone else to go through what I did-/

Jotaro: And you've been at this the last four months?

Joseph: Right. Well, Kaz only joined us this month.

Kazeko: I couldn't let them face this problem, just the two of them, having known Joseph so long. ... Not that I'm the most useful ally. Hehe... at least I can heal.

Rose: You don’t have a stand?

Kazeko: No... I'm afraid I don't.

Rose: A medic then? *she smiles solemnly* We’re in the same boat. I have a stand but...shes not really meant for combat.

Kazeko: *she smiles, feeling a bit encouraged* That's right. I don't exactly use conventional medicine, though.

Rose: Oh...? What do you use?

Kazeko: Um, while you're suspending your disbelief... it's called hamon. A breathing technique that generates energy comparable to the sun. At base, it can be used for combat or for healing. I... never really got the hang of the former.

Shanna: Ham? You use ham?

Kazeko: Ah-

Joseph: *SNORT*

Rose: I see...*she rests her head on the table* I can’t even do that. I have to use medical supplies...

Shanna: .../I’m still upset with her but I’m starting to kinda feel bad;;;/

Kazeko: No, hamon. ... ah, but I can't do everything with it. medical supplies are still very useful.

Rose: Uuuuuuu.....

Shanna: Ah-

Rose: * her head shoots up* Ah! Knives! I’m good at cutting! I’m not TOTALLY useless!

Shanna: Oi oi! Why are you getting competitive! You were just depressed!!

Kakyoin: You fight with knives? *he tilts his head, intrigued*

Rose: I, ah...actually took out a stand user with one.

Shanna: SHE FUCKIN CHUCKED IT INTO HIS THROAT

Joseph: *he whistles, impressed*

Rose: Ehehe...

Kazeko: *her eyes widen*

Kakyoin: That's... very impressive. *he blinks, covering his mouth. that's kind of scary, but also kind of hot-*

Rose: I am also very knowledgeable of the human body. I know where all your weak points are, and the best places to torture someone. I know how to keep you alive while also putting you through immeasurable pain. You know, you want to avoid places like the head and stomach, but places like the arms and some of the back...legs....fingers and nails are especially perfect for-

Shanna: She wants to be a nurse, please don't think shes a psychopath oh gosh PLEASE don't.

Jotaro: She's not crazy. She just knows creepy shit.

Kazeko: O-of course not! *although, she does look a little intimidated*

Joseph: Damn... sounds like you'd be good in a fight even without stand combat.

Kakyoin: *ok VERY scary. but still hot-*

Rose: I also know Judo...but my sister is much better at that sort of stuff.

Shanna: Hehe! I took kendo and I'm a black belt in karate, and as I've already said, I used to be a street fighter!

Rose: Please stop bragging about being a street fighter, you're a noble-

Avdol: *ahem* Back to the topic at hand....is there anything else you wish to know?

Shanna: *she shakes her head* ...Well...actually...Joseph, I have two last questions for you. How do you know hes a, uh- vampire? Also....are you certain that his name is 'Dio Brando'?

Joseph: I know from what Granny told me, and from records I got from the Speedwagon Foundation. I don't know what you might call a creature that sucks blood, dies in the sunlight and can walk up walls, but I call that a vampire. And, yes. I'm positive his name is Dio Brando.

Shanna: I see....thank you.

Avdol: Were you...close?

Shanna: He was... kind of like a second father figure to Rose and I.

Rose: *she nods slowly* Gomen, we'll try not to let our personal feelings get in the way of anything...

Kazeko: ... I'm sorry, you two... it's better this way than if he'd actually hurt you, though.

Joseph: *he sighs* This was... really unexpected. But if it helps, you don't have to get involved with us. We just made a stop to help out Jotaro.

Kakyoin: You... said he had a family, too? ... I'm sorry, having met him, it's.. hard to imagine.

Rose: Yes...a wife and son.

Shanna: His son's name was pretty uncommon so I never forgot it. It was Giorno Giovanna.

Joseph: Not Brando?

Shanna: No- maybe he took his mother's last name? I'm sorry, I don't really know anything else.

Joseph: I see... ... I understand if you don't want to tell us. But do you remember his wife's name? It might help.

Shanna: D...Deli....I only remember the first part. It's silly, but I remember uncommon names better than common names.

Rose: She was a redhead though, and their son looked almost exactly like Dio. Except for the eye color.

Kazeko: I see... so... Delilah Brando? Or maybe Delia?

Shanna: I just remember it was D-E-L-I. Her hair was a little short, only about shoulder length since I last saw her. I believe she’s Italian.

Avdol: Thank you. Even if it's hard to remember, every little bit of information helps.

Joseph: I'll let the Speedwagon Foundation know. Don't worry. They won't raid them or anything. Just ask them some questions.

Shanna: *she nods*

Avdol: One more thing, you said he thought you were orphans because of your...teeth??

Shanna: Ah, I didn't understand back then, but it makes sense now that we know hes a vampire....

Avdol: What?

Rose: Shanna and I have really pointed canines, they look like fangs.

Jotaro: *he nods, able to vouch for this*

Kakyoin: I think I noticed that earlier...

Avdol: If...you don't mind?

Shanna: *she shrugs at Rose and opens her mouth, lifting a finger to pull her mouth to the side so they can see better*

Rose: *she does the same but just opens her mouth. ....Wow, she and Shanna have small mouths*

Joseph: *he raises  an eyebrow. so it's true* Huh, I get it. ... maybe those teeth kept you safe.

Kakyoin: ... *he feels a slight rush of blood to his face. he doesn't get why, but he's blushing a little*

Avdol: *he nods* He may of saw you girls as one of his own kind, and thus, your teeth protected you.

Shanna: *she lets go of her mouth* I guess it...all makes sense now. Not gonna lie it... kind of hurts...

Rose: *she closes her mouth* Yeah... it hurts me too... but we can't deny the truth.

Kazeko: ... If it helps... I'm sure he knew by the end you weren't like him. But he still cared enough about you to let you keep caring for his son.

Joseph: She's right. If you knew him as long as you said, that's probably how it went. Dio Brando isn't stupid.

Shanna: *she looks up* So you're saying... he actually did care?

Avdol: It's hard to imagine for a man like Dio but... he very well may of cared for you both in the end.

Joseph: If he didn't, you would have known it.

Shanna: I-I see...

Rose: Thank you, all three of you, for telling us this. I hope that you'll be able to find him...

Holly: *she remains silent, so even these girls may of been in danger?*

Joseph: Thanks, Rose. ... when we find him, we'll let you know.

Kazeko: ... Holly, I'm sorry. Are you alright? ... it's a lot to process, I know...

Holly: *she nods* It's just...I had no idea that even these girls were once in danger too...

Shanna: ....*she holds her tongue on them being in danger for months now*

Jotaro: *he pulls her close to his side*

Kazeko: It must be hard to hear... your life's been fairly normal up until now.

Holly: *she nods* But...hopefully...these four can be safe now. Papa, Avdol-san, Kazeko-chan...please be careful?

Shanna: *she leans against Jotaro, feeling a little better from his comfort*

Rose: ...Kakyoin-san, your face has been quite red for awhile now. Are you ok?

Kakyoin: Uhm- ah! *he blinks, his eyes darting away and to her a couple of times* I-I... I'm alright, really. ... /I-it's that obvious...? I hope I haven't caught a fever.../

Kazeko: Of course Holly. Mr. Avdol and I are here to make sure your papa stays safe. *she smiles at her softly, placing her hand on hers* You can trust us.

Joseph: Oi, Kaz, don't talk about me like I'm still 19! *he looks miffed* I don't run in recklessly half as much as I used to!

[fanfictrashdump]

Universe in a Jar, 2 - Phase 4 fic

Recap: Some days ago, I reblogged this post about the magical trio. And then my brain went off on a monumental tangent and, I wrote Universe in a Jar.

Characters: Stephen Strange, Loki, Wanda Maximoff, OC

Rating: T? 

Warnings: Language! Embarrassing use of euphemisms, mourning, grief, mention of parent death, flirting is you squint, neurological disorders, attempted accidental murder, and typos probs.

Summary: Baby-sitting beings arguably more powerful than him goes awry for Doctor Strange. He knows one person who can possibly keep them isolated and out of trouble. Well, he knew someone who could… he hasn’t seen them in decades and for stupid reasons. 

XX

Persephone paused at the kitchen entrance, steeling her resolve and gathering the courage to walk past the table to get herself a cup of coffee. The notion that she would have to make herself brave enough to get something in her own home was ridiculous, but her kitchen was currently full of magic beings, as it had been every day for the past week. That wasn't the bit that made her hesitant, not being strictly ordinary herself. It was the man bent over a bowl of blackberries, freshly plucked off of a bush out back, that made her anxious. It was the superimposition of the familiar sight, her friend picking out twigs, leaves and the occasional caterpillar from the fruit, with the dull memory of a storybook villain who laid her whole feelings to waste.

"Morning! There's coffee and I'm making pancakes!" Wanda announced, much more cheery than she had been in a long while. The silence and lack of activities of their little haven in rural Nebraska had given her plenty of time to deal with unpleasant feelings. The witch tossed a half dozen pancakes in the air, all of them flipping perfectly back onto the griddle with no mess. Some people were blessed with better magic than her, Seph realized a little bitterly. "They have blaaackberries!"

"Oh. I, um, yeah–"

Stephen made a small noise of amusement. "I got strawberries for you. I know you think blackberries taste too purple."

She was forced to look up at the face she had been dreading for a whole week. The corner of Stephen's mouth twitched upwards briefly in a not unkind manner. Purple splotches stained the front of his t-shirt, a sight that took her back to days of youth when they would fill their shirts with berries and stuff themselves under a shady tree. Clearly, he had not yet learned another method to carry produce.

"That is not a thing, I assure you," Loki quipped with a smirk. He had helped himself to a book from Seph's library and had kicked his feet up on another chair, watching as the other two tinkered with breakfast.

"I have synesthesia. So, it is, actually, a thing."

She skirted past the men to the coffee maker, pouring herself a fresh cup and helping herself to the milk and sugar that had been left beside it. Wanda was good at this homemaker lark, considering Seph felt like she was an esteemed guest in her own home. Wanda had remarked several times that she liked to make people feel welcome and that she felt guilty for dropping in with the 'Magic Castle rejects' and causing 'unwarranted levels of trauma'. Seph had reassured her that she was fine with the company and it wasn't even bad to have Stephen around, but there was always an edge in her voice and a hint of mistruth in her voice that failed to convince the other woman.

"What in this Midgardian Hel is synesthesia?"

"Mis-wired sensory neurons." Stephen and Persephone answered in unison, startling each other and sharing a long, tense look before she continued. "My taste and sight are a little crossed."

"So your brain is broken." Despite the bluntness of his statement, Loki did not sound mean, more curious.

"More like it perceives differently."

"Mm." He was quiet for a long time after that one hum. The only noise in the kitchen being the sizzle of pancakes and the occasional sip of coffee. "How do you perceive portals? Do you feel the energy and shape it?"

Seph tilted her head in thought. She knocked Loki's legs from the chair and sank into the seat. Stephen and Wanda pretended to be engrossed in their task of making pancakes while they eavesdropped on the conversation. "No. It's like… have you ever seen those forests in a bottle? With like the microplants and worms, and you water it and close it. And it'll basically a self-sustaining entity as long as you don't open it? I see it like that, but the bottle is very flexible and bigger on the inside. Like the TARDIS."

"The what?"

"Time and relative dimension in space. It's a space and time travel machine. It's bigger on the inside," Stephen explained, mixing his fourth cup of coffee of the morning, which did not help with the shaking of his hands but it did wonders to quell his nauseous anxiety.

Loki's eyes widened with excitement. "Where can we acquire one?"

Seph smiled, reaching over to pat Loki's hand. "It's a television show, buddy. It's not real."

"Then why bring it into the conversation?"

"It was a good comparison. I didn't know quality entertainment was so lacking in Asgard." The atmosphere shifted subtly and Seph looked up from her cup of coffee to see all three magicians tense. "What?" More silence followed. Stephen's eyes flittered to Loki and everything made sense. This Loki had not lived through the chaos of moving his people to Earth. She then remembered Wanda giving her an update on everyone a few days ago and how he had not really taken everything all too well… fuck. "Oh. Oh, shit, I'm sorry, Loki."

The Asgardian smiled, a calm, bright expression that looked a little forced. "No worries."

Pushing the coffee away, she angled her body to Loki's and grasped his hand. "It's OK to be sad about losing a home that never truly accepted you, Lo–"

Stephen rolled his eyes and muttered. "Here we go."

Seph groaned, closing her eyes to settle herself. "No one's talking to you, Stephen!"

"Bleeding heart."

"Scalpel jockey."

He scoffed. "You could've done any specialty, chosen any residency–"

"And that's what I did. Not all of us are content hacking into people's heads."

"Not content in making a real difference, you mean?"

"Yes, tell me how that surgical career is working for you right now, Strange!" It was a low blow, she knew, and there was almost a feeling of guilt as he closed his fists to mask the shuddering of his hands self-consciously.

"I'm sure your business is booming. A couple of global catastrophes have probably got the nutjobs flocking to the brilliant psychiatrist, Dr. Hale."

Seph let out a disdainful laugh. "Considering most of my patients are kids who can suddenly levitate shit around their room or accidentally set things on fire, yes. My business is booming. If only the Earth had a protector that would keep global catastrophes from happening and triggering powers in scared kids." She swigged from her coffee and leaned back in her chair. "At least they have someone to talk to."

He slammed his own cup onto the kitchen table and chuckled. "And there it is! We talked almost twenty minutes without you bringing it up, Seph. Good job! You're getting bett–"

His cutting remarks were cut off abruptly, leaving only an odd mutter and the thumping of fist on glass. Around him, walls of a shimmery energy created a box and closed off all noise from the Sorcerer Supreme. His protests sounded like they were coming from underwater, though the walls were clear and solid to the touch. It almost looked like a specimen jar for entomologists–a killing jar.

"He's quiet, at the very least," Loki remarked, turning to give Seph a smile only to find her hazel eyes glowing as if they were leaking light, contrasting starkly with her dark skin. Her hands were shoulder width apart. Distractedly, she tilted her head, curls shifting slightly, and brought her hands closer together. The box rippled, and with it Strange coughed, suddenly panting for breath as he thumped his fist on the wall. "Persephone. Seph. Seph!" The woman showed no signs of hearing him, intensely focused on just the box and her prey. "Wanda!"

Wanda turned from the stove, midway through an eye roll before she dropped her spatula and swirling a large red orb in her hands and directing it towards the glass. The barrier shimmered but barely moved. Loki worked green and golden magic over Seph, trying to break through the blocks in her mind, but was becoming continually distracted by Stephen trying to magic his way out of the enclosure until he slumped forward, breathing shallowly.

"Come on, Seph. You need to let him go. It's not going to help." His eyes drifted to Strange. The sling ring had his magic flicker shortly before dying. Something about that box was not letting him enchant. "Persephone, killing him won't make it better. Believe me. Knowing the person who made you suffer is dead only gives you more grievances."

Wanda surrounded the bottle with her magic. It deformed and shifted, but was no closer to breaking apart to when she started. "I need help and Strange doesn't have long."

"Switch!" Loki turned his attention to the box, his magic making the whole thing shudder.

Wanda had taken his place and was fluttering her fingers beside Seph's temple, red tendrils flowing between them in an effort to access the other's mind. She frowned. "She's… she's keeping me out. How is she doing this? This shouldn’t be possible."

"Impossible is our specialty. Just keep trying." Loki grit his teeth, drawing and gathering his magic and concentrating it in one small, brilliant pebble. With a grunt of effort, he shot the projectile at the glass and a small crack appeared. "Oh for fuck's sake!" 

He repeated the process several times until the crack extended and opened just enough for air to flow in. Stephen breathed a little easier but was still looking weak, his skin sallow and pale; lips a sickly purple. With one last growl, Loki’s magic exploded outward, and the box shattered with a spine-quivering screech. He barely had the time to snatch the Sorcerer before he collapsed on the ground.

Seph inhaled sharply, shaking her head to clear the cobwebs from her mind, and opened her eyes to find all three guests staring at her with furrowed brows and narrowed gazes. Her gaze connected with Wanda, who still had her magic at the ready, to Stephen who was hanging off Loki's shoulder, desperately moving air into his lungs, to Loki who just looked concerned. On the floor, shards of shimmering glass rested, shaking to some unknown Universal vibration pattern before disappearing.

"Well, at the very least, he'll know not to antagonize you, now," Loki quipped, breaking the tense silence.

"Loki, no–" Stephen groaned, watching Seph disappearing from the kitchen, her footsteps echoing up the stairs.

About an hour later, Seph heard her bedroom door squeak open. She sat up like a shot and shuffled back against the headboard. Stephen closed the door behind him, his eyes fixed on her shaking form.

"Don't. Just, go back outside. I'll stay here. I–I can't be anywhere near any of you," she rambled, eyes wide and glittering with tears.

"It's a house full of magicians, we'll survive." He placed a stack of strawberry pancakes soaked in syrup on the bedside table. "You should eat. That kind of display… you should be exhausted right now. Why aren't you exhausted?" The question he tacked onto the end sounded rhetorical.

Reluctantly, she grabbed the plate just as her stomach growled. She picked at the pancakes before taking a bite. She winced at the taste, the color was too vibrant, too in-your-face. Stephen had definitely not had a hand in making these. He was terrible, but he remembered details like it was no one's business. Swallowing the bite, she put the plate back, wincing. With little warning, Stephen had pulled her hand towards him, a handful of long scratches etched into her palm, like the shattering of the box had recoiled into her hands.

"What? You hurt yourself and you don't say anything?" He tutted under his breath, bringing the other hand to his inspection to find similar scratches.

"Stop."

"I'll have to get the First Aid kit–"

"Loki, stop!"

Stephen frowned, eyes narrowing. "Loki?"

"Loki. Stop. Now."

The Sorcerer stared for another minute, face tight, before the glamour shimmered and faded in its entirety. "How did you know?"

She turned her hands to tap on his palms, held out steadily to hold hers. "He lets them shake when he's focused on something else. And the food was a little too bright."

"I knew I should've asked him to make it." He sighed, shrugging before gesturing for her hands back. "Let's have a look, pet." After a second's hesitation, she returned her hands and left them to his mercy. His magic stung her palms, but she remained still, occasionally sucking air through her teeth at the sensation of rapid healing.

"I thought you didn't like him." She said, out of the blue, but he immediately understood.

"He's been decent enough." He paused for another moment. "I'm also certain there is some sort of cosmic balance that would gravely suffer if that bother of a human is killed.” He waved his hands in a flourish and grinned. “There we go." 

"I'm sorry."

Loki frowned. "What ever for?"

"You guys are supposed to be laying low and recuperating not dealing with a fool with no sense of control."

"No control? Persephone, you wanted to kill Strange."

"Exactly! I–"

"No. You misunderstand me." He leaned down to level their stared. "You wanted to kill Strange. I could see it in your mind but I couldn't break through. You have excellent control. Which is why I had to go for the box and not your mind. I would've had to kill you to break the magic, if I had."

"So, I'm a psychopath?"

He laughed, bringing her hands to his lips and kissing her knuckles. "No, dear. You're just very angry at him. I hate to say it, but you might have to talk this through like adults."

Seph frowned. "Have you ever tried to have a conversation with Stephen Strange?"

"Yes. It was painful." He laughed. "He's not unreasonable, though. He's just a bit of a…"

"Control freak?"

He smirked and nodded. "Your adjective is kinder."

"Usually is." The pair glanced over at the door to see Stephen leaning against the frame, arms crossed. "I was always the asshole in the duo."

Seph made an annoyed noise in the back of her throat. "Do none of you knock? Were you all raised in a barn?"

Stephen snorted. "We grew up in the middle of nowhere, Nebraska, where we, quite literally, spent most of our free time in a barn. You're lucky we speak in complete sentences given the public education system here."

"I know your mother taught you how to knock, Stephen Strange."

He rolled his eyes, quickly getting frustrated. "And yours taught you how to be polite. We both failed our mothers, it seems."

Seph's eyes flashed briefly and Loki made a warning noise loud enough to break her out of the glowing trance. "Have you learned nothing, you idiot?" Turning back to her, he smiled. "What he means to say is, memories have made him miserable and pent up all week and it’s making him snarky, but he is ready to give up the torture of having you angry at him."

"I haven't been miserable and pent up." Stephen’s tone was indignant and his chin jutted out defiantly. Loki was there to match his haughty tone with one of his own.

"Oh, so the self-immolation in her name was a coincidence?"

"I wasn't–"

She mouthed the phrase to herself several times, turning it over in her mind. Stephen looked fine, little scratches and scars from attempting to wrangle the other two, aside. Her doctorly instincts were not sounding any alarm bells that usually came on when she suspected any type of self harm. Was he maybe mentally torturing himself? "Self-immola–? Oh my god." She could barely look at either of the men. She definitely did not have to know what any of them got up to in the privacy of their own rooms. "Stephen!"

"I wasn't! Are you seriously listening to him about this?" He defended, though there was a jerky sort of nervousness in his movements and his cheeks blazed red.

Loki mouthed 'he was' at her and Seph covered her face with a pillow because suffocating in the fabric was a better alternative to this conversation. "Midgardians are such prudes, honestly. You're a beautiful woman and what I can presume is a source of comfort to him. He was very respectful of you in his thoughts–"

"How long were you watching me?"

"Long enough to respect your endurance.” Movement caught his attention. “Darling, where are you going?" Seph had thrown herself out of bed and was marching towards her closet, only to find that the door wouldn't budge. Same happened to the main door, en suite, wardrobe, even the drawers in her dresser. She wasn't going anywhere and Loki had made sure that every avenue of escape was unavailable.

Stephen scoffed. "Well, I can still lea–" He patted down his pockets and let out a groan. "Loki!"

"Looking for this?" The god held Stephen's sling ring between his thumb and index. "You can have it back when you've made nice."

"Why are you doing this?"

"I am done being in the middle of conflicts. I didn't like it five hundred years ago and I don't like it now. I detest having to scramble to keep her from killing you. This is the third time this week. Every time you anger her, the response is stronger." Stephen opened his mouth to protest, but Loki marched on. "What happens when her emotion and rage outweigh her control? I barely freed you today. Next time, she will succeed."

The Sorcerer rolled his eyes, ever the dramatic soul. "Yes, tell me how you'll weep."

"It'll barely register in my mind but it will destroy her, Strange!" The men’s argument was catching momentum fast, complete with random pointing in her direction and very colorful expletives.

"Could you not talk about me like I'm not in the room?" She murmured, just as the screaming match between the two started to elevate, scuffing her feet on the ground with a pout.

Loki swallowed the, no doubt acidic, retort he had poised on his tongue. "Apologies, flower. I meant no disrespect." He gave her an encouraging smile, holding his hand out to her. "But this is an issue that must be resolved sooner rather than later." After a moment's hesitation, she slapped her hand into his with a sigh and he chuckled. "Don't seem so enthusiastic."

"It's not about holding your hand–," she defended quickly, her eyes rounding with sadness as she fell back into her spot on the mattress.

"I was kidding, darling." He glanced at the Sorcerer. "Stephen."

"I'm not holding your hand, dude," he retorted instantly.

"Good. I've seen where it's been, I don't want it near me at the moment." Seph giggled quietly and Loki looked extremely pleased with himself at the sound. Stephen frowned, jealousy gnawing at his stomach. "Stop pouting, Strange. It's unbecoming."

"He doesn't deal well with negative emotions. So, he pouts a lot."

"I do not!"

"And denies negative feelings. Acknowledging them means he didn't successfully lock them into a tiny chest, wrapped them in chains and dropped them into the ocean."

"You're making me sound like a sociopath."

Seph fixed him with a raised brow look. "Where's the lie?"

Irritation clouded his speckled blue gaze, expression falling into the bored mask he usually wore. "Alright, this was a mistake. Loki, let me out."

"When's the last time you cried, Stephen?"

"Don't analyze me, Hale." His hissed tone would have intimidated a lesser human, but she remained as passive as ever. 

"It's a simple question, bud. I want to know how irritating you're going to be through this conversation."

"Does it matter?"

"It makes my point. You've always been awful with expressing yourself because you've convinced yourself that whatever asshole mask you put on makes you seem more mature. If you–"

"Match day."

"What?"

"Match day. I haven't really cried since residency match day. We weren't talking and you went off to Chicago and I stayed in New York. That's when I knew I lost you."

Loki leaned into her and asked under his breath. "When was that?"

"Decade and a half ago."

His eyes bugged out at her before turning back to Strange. "Decad–what is wrong with you?"

"You've had ample crying in the last decade and a half, have you?"

"I've had ample crying in the last ten and a half days. What the fuck is broken inside you?"

"Hey! Be nice!" Seph snapped, glaring at the god.

Loki rolled his eyes. "Abandoned you for your powers when you were at your lowest?"

"Oh. Right."

A long pause followed.

"I didn't know how to go back," Stephen admitted quietly. "I stood outside your building for three months. I could never knock. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the look on your face when I blew up at you… I knew I couldn't fix it. I still do."

Despite the ice that flowed through his veins, he couldn’t not stare back at the accusatory glare in her eyes. "I flew back home alone."

"I know."

"I identified her body alone."

"I know."

"I buried her alone. She loved you like you were hers and you didn't show up to her funeral, Stephen. I just…" Tears cut off the rest of her sentence, a sob gripping her throat. After a long while, she sniffled, wiping messily at her face. She chanced a look at him, his expression hard and his left eye twitching the same way it did when he was particularly upset about something. Twenty years and she could still tell when he was shoving his guilt down. "You're the one who leaves her flowers." Seph sighed, thinking about the bouquet of violets that were always there whenever she visited her mother's grave, and the fact that in recent times, it seemed like the visits had risen exponentially. Which made sense, since he could open a portal to the other side of the country at any given time.

He shrugged. "You leave mine flowers, too." He sighed, glancing hard at the floor. "I didn't forget my whole damn life just because you weren't speaking to me, Seph."

"To not have been speaking to you requires an effort for you to speak to me, wouldn't there?"

"She has a point."

"Shut up, Loki."

"Just moderating, Strange."

"I was stupid and scared. I went to you for everything. Feeling happy, feeling sad, stressed–you were the go-to for advice. Ironically, the person I would've asked for advice on how to approach you… was you." He forced a chuckle, feeling ridiculous. "Much like, full disclosure, the person I asked dating advice for was also you."

She cackled. "Yeah. No shit, Sherlock. I asked you what your mystery girl liked and it sounded like you were reading from my diary. You weren't exactly subtle."

"I threw in some bad information."

"You said she might be into girls."

Stephen's mouth flapped open several times before he dragged a hand down his face. "In retrospect, yeah, I pretty much described you, but I wasn't sure if you were into both."

"We went on three separate dates, you just didn't fucking notice!"

"And you were attracted to him?" Loki interrupted, eyes narrowed and looking between the two. "Were there no other options in lovers?"

"Shut up, Loki!" They replied in unison.

Seph smiled sadly, her fingers absently trailing over Loki's in an effort to distract her mind. "I would've forgiven you the second you knocked on my door if you had just apologized and meant it. Not something out of obligation or because I was literally your last resort."

"I'm not good at admitting when I'm wrong. You know that."

"Truly a tragedy, considering you're wrong a lot of the time, even if you swear up and down that you’re right," she teased, sounding like a well-practiced jab.

There was a bit of amusement lighting up Stephen's face. "I get one question wrong on a test, thirty years ago and it's all you ever talk about the rest of our lives."

"I also got a better score than you on the MCAT, so…"

He barked out a laugh. "I hate you so much." The smile slowly melted from his face, leaving behind a passive expression. He felt relaxed, less uptight. Whether that was due to the tension in the air lifting the slightest bit or the fact that he could feel her familiar aura as he had for so much of his life, he didn't know. "I'm really sorry, Peep. Leaving you is a regret I'll take to my grave."

Her nose scrunched at the long-forgotten nickname and shook her head, deciding that she knew better than to tell him to forget that endearment ever existed. "I'm sorry I tried to kill you, I guess. In my defense, you were asking for it."

"That's fair."

"Did I hurt you?"

He smirked. "Crushed my lungs a bit. Nothing permanent." He tilted his head. “Why? Is it going to become a common occurrence?”

Persephone's face clouded. "I don’t know, Stephen. It’s a process. I can’t just–”"

“You can’t just forgive him like nothing happened. He understands.” Loki pinched her cheek playfully, leaving her to bat it away with an irritated pout. "Hold your grudge. Keep it for as long as you need, but don't let it poison you. Stupid things happen when you let grief color your perception."

"Whatever. I promise not to murder him, at the least.” Heavy expression fell on the Asgardian, next. “Also, if you ever use the phrase self-immolate in your name, again, I will punch you in the face. I didn't need to know that."

"I WASN'T!"

"I don't care if you did. I don't want to know while I'm still really pissed at you. Got it?"

Both of the men mumbled a "fine" under their breaths before a collective click resounded around the room. They were free once more. Stephen hesitated at the door, his demeanor giving off the impression that he was building up to say something. Seph watched him expectantly only to have him drop his shoulders and turn on his heel, twisting the doorknob to make a hasty retreat.

"Him? Of all people? Really?"

Seph laughed, rolling her eyes. "He was the boy next door. And he's always been pretty hot."

"You can do better." His voice was smooth and rumbly and made her raise her eyebrows.

"I think you mean I can do worse."

Loki smirked. "Norns, I hope you do."

[sword-dad-fukuzawa]

Red

Government assassin is not normally a post one applies for. In Fukuzawa Yukichi's case, it comes about as a result of multiple knife wounds, enough poison to land him in the hospital, and Mori's stupid flair for the dramatic. Only dramatic toerags bring swords to hospital rooms.

He hadn’t really thought this through. 

Yukichi ducked under a wild swing and hopped backwards a few steps, feeling something whistle past where his abdomen had been half a moment earlier. Briefly, he wondered if Rintarou would be entirely opposed to sewing him up, if he massively miscalculates his next move and ends up bleeding onto the alleyway floor. 

His eyes flicked to the man’s knife, gleaming bright and bold in the late afternoon sun. There was a strange, oily sheen to the blade, almost as if…

Yukichi blanches. He’d been poisoned exactly once in the past, and that had been in his food. He did not want to learn firsthand what it felt like to have poison introduced to his bloodstream. 

“I don’t have anything,” he tried, but there was a desperation in the man’s eyes that Yukichi knew all too well. He advanced a step, the knife held away from his body and its serrated edge glinting dangerously. Yukichi swallowed, trying to calm his racing heartbeat. Adrenaline would make him fast, but it could also make him sloppy. 

He waited a split second to take his opponent’s measure. Fairly tall—taller than him. Not overweight, no, but not skinny either. Yukichi didn’t think he would come out on top if they started grappling. From what he could tell, his attacker was sober. No hallucinogens or depressants in his system to make him erratic, which was possibly a good thing. 

Yukichi inhaled, then exhaled. He watched the man’s hips the way he’d been taught, tense, waiting. Another breath, and the man lunged. Yukichi saw the motion in his mind’s eye. He would reach out with the knife, go for a slash, try to get his face. But he would be off balance for the tiniest fraction of time, with his center of mass extended over empty air. Yukichi’s eyes narrowed. 

He dropped into a crouch, letting the knife slash brush over his head, and darted forward. One hand on the man’s ankle and the other on his lower thigh. Yukichi felt the denim underneath his palms as he pushed, letting the man’s forward momentum carry him into a throw. The man’s back slammed into the ground, arms outstretched, and Yukichi wasted no time in straddling the man and pinning his wrist to the ground. “Let go,” he grunted, and the man’s hand spasmed for a moment. Then the knife clattered to the pavement and Yukichi tossed it into the street, where it skidded into the gutter. 

He straddled the man a moment longer, then hit the man’s Vagus nerve with a knife hand strike. His attacker was out like a light. 

Yukichi stood, brushing his hands off on his school uniform pants. He was breathing hard and he could feel his heart pounding against his ribs. Christ, he thought he’d been about to get stabbed when the guy had jumped him. Just walking home, minding his own business, when he turned into a side street to take a shortcut the same way he did every afternoon. 

Then the man had been there, melting out of the shadows with a determined expression and a knife in his hand. He really hadn’t been planning on getting jumped that day. Was he supposed to report this to the police? Or could he just go home and start that essay he was supposed to turn in three weeks ago?

He could hear Rintarou’s voice in his head. “Yukichi, you lazy bastard. Do your essay.” 

He turned, then, in the direction of home. Then he paused. But he really should call the police. There was, after all, an armed guy in the middle of an alleyway ready to stab a teenager. For what, Yukichi didn’t know. 

With a long, aggrieved sigh, Yukichi walked a few steps to the little corner store on the other side of the alleyway. There was a woman behind the counter, middle-aged with grey flyaways and crow’s feet. “Excuse me,” said Yukichi, and the woman looked up from where she was wiping the counter down. 

“Ah! Welcome to…” she tilted her head, trailing off as she looked Yukichi up and down. He resisted the urge to feel self conscious. He didn’t look all that rumpled, did he?

“Can I use your phone?” he asked, and the woman wordlessly beckoned to him. She led him into the back room, where a telephone sat. He picked it up and dialed the police number as she watched, paling when she realized what he had needed the phone for. He hung up after giving them the location, then turned to her. “Thank you very much,” he said, bowing, and the woman gave a flustered bow back. 

Yukichi left without another word, the awkwardness starting to press on him, and went back into the alleyway. The man was still there, faceup on the ground and unconscious. He waited with his back against the wall and line of sight to both ends of the alleyway, just in case the man had had any buddies. 

Belatedly, he realized the sun was setting. It would probably be dark by the time he got home, and he’d have to feed the cat and cook dinner. He probably wouldn’t have time for that essay. Maybe sensei would give him an extension…? He figured being the victim of an attempted mugging constituted a valid excuse for turning the essay in even later than it was. 

A few minutes later, a police car came tearing down the street. It parked right by Yukichi, and two men stepped out. One of them was tall, with sandy hair and a brown jacket. He had a green tie, too, except it was loose. He looked rather unkempt for a police officer, Yukichi thought uncharitably, especially next to his partner, who was wearing a suit. 

They introduced themselves quickly, and Yukichi promptly forgot both of their names. The messy one crouched by the man on the ground and checked his pulse, then secured him, with handcuffs. 

“You mentioned a knife?” he asked, looking up at Yukichi. He nodded, and jerked his chin at the gutter. 

The officer with a suit walked over and picked up the knife, flipping it in his hand. “Cheap,” he muttered, and the other officer rolled his eyes. He made eye contact with Yukichi again. “You’ll have to come down to the station so we can take your statement,” he said, and Yukichi suppressed a groan. “I’ve got school tomorrow,” he pointed out, and the police officer grimaced. 

“Yeah, sorry, kid. We’ll drive you to your house after. You have a parent or guardian we can contact?”

Yukichi shrugged. “Sure,” he said. 

The man nods. “Name? Phone number?”

“Shouzan Shiraishi.” Yukichi rattled off his guardian’s phone number and the man nodded again. 

Yukicihi promptly passed out. 

When he woke up, it was to the sharp tang of antiseptic and the white ceiling of the hospital. His mouth felt like someone had stuffed a cotton rag in it for several hours, all dry and scratchy. He didn’t even try to sit up. Instead, he blinked impotently at the ceiling. 

“Finally awake?” said a familiar voice, and Yukichi turned his head to the side. Sitting in one of those uncomfortable hospital chairs was Rintarou, in his starched black button down and hands folded together. He lounged in that chair like it was a throne, though Yukichi was pretty sure he was going to have a killer crick in his back the next morning. 

“No,” said Yukichi, and turned his head back so he could stare at the ceiling. Rintarou let out a disbelieving chuckle. 

“How’d you get in here?” Yukichi asked, and Rintarou made a humming noise. “They couldn’t get a hold of your guardian. When you were passed out on the way to the hospital, you apparently muttered my name.”

Yukichi can feel Rintarou’s lascivious grin. “I didn’t know you liked me that much,” he purred, making Yukcihi grit his teeth. “Don’t be a dick,” he muttered. “I just knew you were going to kick my ass about that essay.”

Rintarou was silent for a long moment, and Yukichi turned to look at him once more. He was staring at Yukichi’s prone figure with a carefully neutral expression. “Mm,” he said finally, mouth in a thin line. If Yukichi didn’t know better, he’d say Rintarou looked almost annoyed. 

“What happened?” Yukichi asked, and watched as Rintarou’s expression went back to his easy smile. “You got stabbed,” he said. 

Yukichi raised an eyebrow. He didn’t remember that.

Rintarou nodded at him, then gestured at his shoulder. “I’m assuming you were so high on adrenaline that you didn’t notice. It’s not the sort of cut that would normally land you in an overnight stay at the hospital, but the bastard who jumped you…”

“Poison.” Yukichi nodded back at Rintarou, then twisted around to look at his shoulder. Bright white bandages swathed his upper arm and extended to his clavicle. With a sort of morbid curiosity, he poked at it. 

Red bloomed across the bandages and Rintarou jumped out of bed, cursing. “You dumbass,” he hissed, and pressed the button that presumably would summon the nurse. Yukichi was still poking at the wound in curiosity as Rintarou started spamming the button. 

His eyes narrowed. “Something’s wrong,” he muttered, and dropped into a crouch. Yukichi couldn’t see what he was looking at, but then he stood back up and faced the door. “Someone cut the wires,” he said, and glanced back at Yukichi. “Don’t do anything stupid. I’m going to get the nurse.”

Yukichi nodded, and Rintarou strode off in a huff, his coat billowing out behind him like a cape. He looked very dramatic. And also very silly. 

Yukichi lay in his bed, listening to the heartbeat monitor make its regular beeps. Rintarou had been gone for a while, he realized hazily, then sat bolt upright. The wound on his shoulder stopped aching and started screaming at him, but he slid out of bed regardless and put himself with his back to the wall. 

Rintarou had been gone for a while. 

The only warning he received was the slightest sound of fabric brushing against something solid. He jerked to the side on instinct, the heart rate monitor starting up a furious beat. He felt something whistle past his ear and thud into the hospital wall, but he didn’t freeze long enough to check. Yukichi threw himself into a roll, bracing his back against the side of the bed. He couldn’t see his attacker, that was a knife in the wall, shit—

He jerked to the side again, but he was too late. The cool metal of another knife cut through his sleeve, leaving a line of bright red and searing pain. With a grunt, he reached up onto the top of the bed and hauled himself up, scanning the room wildly. He glanced up and saw a masked figure in dark black—masculine, tall, lithe—hanging out of a vent near the ceiling. Yukichi saw the glint of another throwing knife and gritted his teeth, glancing around for something, anything. 

In the corner, next to Rintarou’s chair, was his sword. He must have brought it, and Yukichi thanked each and every one of his lucky stars that his friend was just ridiculous enough to smuggle a sword into a hospital room. By the time he’d rushed over, shoulder screaming, the man in the vent had dropped to the ground into a crouch. He stood slowly as Yukichi unsheathed his katana and dropped into a defensive stance. 

“Who’re you?” Yukichi spat, but the man didn’t answer. He only drew another knife, one in each hand, and rushed. 

By God, he was fast. Yukichi busied himself dodging and parrying, the screech of metal on metal deafening to his ears. It was made doubly difficult by the limited movement he was getting out of his injured shoulder and the fact that the man had knives in both hands. He was used to fighting sword-wielding opponents in the dojo, damn it!    

Finally, he scored a hit on the man. A narrow slice on the man’s ribs that cut through fabric and skin, letting it bleed. Abruptly, the attacker stopped and backed away. Yukichi was breathing hard, settling back into his stance with his sword upright and ready for another rush. But the man didn’t come at him again, instead sheathing his knives and yanking off his mask. 

Yukichi memorized his face within a second. Dark, bluish hair, pale skin, fairly nondescript—the kind of face his eyes slid off of in crowds. Then, inexplicably, the man grinned at him. His smile was wide and incongruously cheerful. “Izumi Seiji,” he said, tilting his head and pulling something out of a pocket. It was an ID, Yukichi realized, with the man’s name printed in clear kanji. There was a seal on it, too. Was that…

“I’m from a special branch of the government. We’d like to recruit you.”

Yukichi stared at him flatly. The silence stretched on for several awkward seconds, the man still grinning at him. “What,” he said, when it became clear that the man was waiting for a response.

“The boss put me in charge of recruitment this year!” said Izumi, tucking his ID back into his pocket. “We saw that fight you had in the alleyway. You’ve got plenty of raw talent. We also ran a background check on you, and it turns out you also have a suitable temperament.” He started rattling off a bunch of personality traits and personal information that he really had no right to know, but most of it just floated in one ear and out the other. 

“What,” Yukichi repeated, and Rintarou picked that incredibly auspicious moment to burst in, stupid dramatic coat flaring. His dark eyes darted between Yukichi—who probably didn’t look at that well, he realized, since he was bleeding from multiple places—and Izumi, in his black catsuit and cheerful smile. 

“I leave you alone for five minutes,” said Rintarou, his expression despairing. “Five, Yukichi. Can you even count that high?”

  “I score higher in math than you,” Yukichi muttered, and Rintarou scoffed. He waved a gloved hand. “That was one test.” He turned his gaze to Izumi, face calculating. “You cut the wires and told the nurses to stay away from this room.”

“Yep,” agreed Izumi. “You would be Mori Rintarou, yes? Fukuzawa Yukichi’s friend?”

“Yes. Am I going to be quietly erased?” Rintarou asked then, completely devoid of emotion, and Yukichi fought the urge to laugh. He covered it up with a choked wheeze. 

Probably not very well, considering the glare Rintarou leveled at him, but Izumi didn’t seem all that bothered. 

“Of course not!” Izumi said, crossing his arms and affecting a hurt expression. “I’m here for recruitment, not assassination. Not today, anyway.” His cheeks abruptly colored. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“No,” Rintarou agreed. He glanced at Yukichi again before turning around. “I haven’t seen anything,” he said loudly. “Nothing at all. I wasn’t even here.” He walked off, then, leaving Yukichi exhaustedly holding his sword up. 

So much for backup. 

He glanced at the grinning Izumi. “I’d like the record to reflect,” he said, feeling the adrenaline seep out of him and leave only exhaustion behind, “that this is bullshit.”

-- 

The second installment in Fukuzawa and Mori, Fifteen Years Old. Yeah, @scalpel-mom-mori and I are on a boomer skk trip, don’t mind us. More forthcoming :)

[ryqoshay]

Tri-Arame: Study All Day?

Primary Pairing Trio: YuuAyuSetsu Words: ~3k Rating: G Time Frame: Their first week of college Story Arc: Setsu’s Ceaseless Study Session Study All Day? Study All Night? A Nap a Day

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Author’s Note: Oh gods, I’m only a novel’s length into this fic and I’m already coming up with stuff that is going to force me to make retcons... because deities forbid I write my works in a normal, chronological order.

Also, apologies in advance to any Haruhi fans if this arc triggers any Endless Eight PTSD...

Also also, I bounce back and forth between focusing on Setsu and Ayu in this arc. I don’t think I’ve made the switch in the middle of any particular scene, but I do hope it’s obvious when the switches are made between scenes.

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Ayumu felt it coming but was unable to suppress the yawn from escaping.

“Excuse me.” She murmured, not wanting to disturb the other two girls at the table.

Yuu glanced over with a quick smile before returning her attention to her laptop. She probably hadn’t heard Ayumu through her headphones, but probably saw the movement out of the corner of her eye.

“Mm.” Was all of Setsuna’s response as she focused on her studies.

Ayumu tapped her phone screen to check the time and blinked when she realized how late it was. Well, she was certainly about to disturb them now. She closed her book and pushed herself out from under the kotatsu.

“Going to bed, Ayumu?” Yuu asked, sliding her headphones off one ear.

“Yeah.” Ayumu confirmed with a nod.

“Oh, sorry,” Setsuna looked up “give me a moment to clean up.”

“You can stay if you want, Setsuna-chan.” Ayumu said with a smile.

“You sure?”

“Of course. You should study where you are must comfortable and where you are free of distractions.” A thought occurred to Ayumu. “Me sleeping nearby won’t disturb you, right?”

“I don’t think so.” Setsuna replied. “And I do like studying here…”

“All the more reason to stay. Just don’t stay up too late.”

“I won’t. Thank you, Ayumu-san. Good night.”

“Good night.” Ayumu said as she moved to her bed and climbed in.

“Sleep well, Ayumu.” Yuu added.

“Mm…”

“I’ll stay up with you for a little while longer, Setsuna-chan.” Yuu offered.

Setsuna replied with a smile before resuming her studies.

As Ayumu closed her eyes, her thoughts turned to recent events. Today had been the first day of classes for the three of them. She and Yuu were attending in-person classes while Setsuna was enrolled in an online university that more easily allowed her to divide her time between her new career as a professional idol and her studies.

The online courses were not based on the standard trimester system, rather a student progressed as fast or as slow as they desired, with a certain minimum pace expected. Once a student proved their competency in the material, they could move on to the next class. Ayumu was very happy Setsuna had found a way to please her parents by earning a degree without needing to only attend class part time and thus need extra time. However, she couldn’t help being concerned that the often overly ambitious girl would push herself too much.

In any case, Ayumu had said her piece for the night. She hoped Setsuna would heed her suggestion and turn in at a reasonable time.

----------

Ayumu stirred when there was movement on the mattress. She cracked open one eye to see Yuu sliding under the duvet beside her. Yuu murmured something unintelligible before releasing a content sigh and settling down.

Ayumu felt a smile tug at her lips as fond memories drifted through her mind. She and Yuu had many sleepovers throughout the years, usually at Ayumu’s apartment as Yuu’s couch was nowhere near as comfortable trying to fit them both, even as children. Though Yuu usually turned in at the same time as Ayumu, it was not completely uncommon for her to be engrossed in some activity, book, game or whatever, that she would stay up later. She would then crawl under the covers, collapse beside Ayumu, mumble something and be asleep in seconds.

The frequency of their sleepovers had dwindled a bit once they entered high school, due in no small part to Ayumu thinking of the practice as childish and that she should leave such things behind. Then when Yuu joined the music course, she started spending far too many nights writing songs for the idol club and the practice stopped altogether.

It ended up being Setsuna who revived their old routine by seeking places to watch anime away from home, even after her parents lifted their ban. She had come to prefer watching with friends and Ayumu and Yuu were happy to oblige. Many nights went a bit too long, so Ayumu would pull out futons for her guests, though Yuu always ended up in her bed anyway.

And now they were starting off their college careers with a sleepover. Or at least Yuu was…

Ayumu craned her neck up enough to see over Yuu’s head. She quickly spotted Setsuna, still sitting at the kotatsu, face lit by the artificial light of her laptop and eyes fervently scanning the screen.

“Remember not to stay up too late, Setsuna-chan.” Ayumu called out softly.

“Mm…” Setsuna hummed and nodded, seeming to have barely registered the call through her focus.

Ayumu closed her eyes again and settled back down. Should she have set out a futon for Setsuna? Her room was the next one over, a scant few meters between their doors instead of kilometers that required a train ride. She would be fine. Probably.

----------

Ayumu opened her eyes to the sound her alarm and reached up to the shelf of her headboard to find her phone. Beside her, Yuu stirred, but otherwise did not wake. Ayumu smiled at the sight of her childhood friend and admired the scene for a moment before sitting up.

Movement from elsewhere in the room caught her eye. Setsuna was pushing herself up from where she had apparently slept, sprawled on the kotatsu.

“Good morning, Setsuna-chan.” Ayumu greeted.

Setsuna yawned and stretched her arms up high before turning her attention to the nearby bed. “Good morning, Ayumu-san.” She said before opening her laptop, likely to resume studying.

“How late did you stay up?”

“I’m not honestly sure.” Setsuna admitted. “I… don’t remember closing my laptop or even falling asleep. Sorry for not going back to my room.”

“You’re fine.” Ayumu assured. “You’re always welcome. But I do have a futon and extra pillows you could use. Surly those would have been more comfortable than hunched over the table.”

“Hrm…”

“I just don’t want you to be sore for your practice later.”

Setsuna rubbed at her shoulder. “I guess I will have to do some extra stretches…”

Part of Ayumu wanted to offer a shoulder massage, but the other part was concerned about getting to class on time. As such, she remained quite as she climbed up over Yuu and out of bed.

“Anything in particular you want for breakfast, Setsuna-chan?”

“I’m sure whatever you make will be delicious.”

“Alright.” Ayumu nodded and made her way to the kitchenette.

Ayumu remembered from cooking classes that eggs were on the list of foods that were supposed to help with concentration and memory, perfect for all the studying the three had in store for the week. She mentally scanned through the other items, most of which were not easy to keep in the limited space of a couple cupboards, a counter and a tiny fridge. There were a few things, however…

“Coffee or tea?” Ayumu directed the question to her studying friend, trying to remember what she drank in the morning after their sleepovers.

“I’m fine with whatever you’re already making.”

“Well, I’m making both since I prefer tea and Yuu-chan likes coffee.”

“Coffee then, thank you.”

“Alright.”

Not long after the coffee began brewing, Ayu heard Yuu stir and start to finally wake up.

“Good morning, Ayumu, Setsuna-chan.” Yuu greeted before yawning.

The other two occupants returned similar greetings as she slid out of bed and started doing something on her laptop. Ayumu delivered steaming mugs of caffeine before finishing up the morning meal and bringing that to the table as well. Yuu and Ayumu chatted casually as they ate while Setsuna’s attention rarely left her screen. Finally, the three went to wash up, get changed and ready for the day.

“Well, I’m heading out.” Ayumu announced, heading toward the entryway to put on her shoes.

“I’ll come with you.” Yuu said, joining her.

“Are you sure? You’re classes don’t start until well after mine.”

“I know, but I’ve always gone to school with Ayumu.” Yuu grinned. “Why should college be any different just because our classes start at different times?”

Ayumu smiled as well as she realized she couldn’t refute that, not that she would have wanted to anyway.

“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like, Setsuna-chan.” Ayumu said to her other friend. “As I said last night, you should study wherever you’re most comfortable.”

Setsuna looked up from her work for a moment. “Thank you, Ayumu-san. I’ll be sure to lock up when I head to the studio later.”

“Have fun at practice!” Yuu called, stepping out the door.

“Will do.” Setsuna nodded.

“See you this evening.” Ayumu added.

“Mm.” Setsuna hummed a happy reply.

----------

“Welcome back, Setsuna-chan.” Ayumu greeted as the raven-haired girl entered.

“I’m back.” She replied.

“Practice go well?” Yuu asked from the kitchenette area.

“Very much so.” Setsuna affirmed. “Something smells delicious.” She commented as she began to remove her shoes.

“I hope it tastes as good as it smells.” Yuu replied.

“I’m sure it will be good.” Setsuna made her way to her usual spot at the kotatsu.

“This is the first time Yuu-chan has made a meal on her own.” Ayumu pointed out.

“I stand by my statement.”

“I didn’t mean it as an insult.” Ayumu laughed lightly before leaning forward across the table and lowering her voice. “I’m just a little surprised that she took the initiative. Maybe she’s been inspired by your drive in your studies and wants to do more on her own as well?”

“Or she wants to thank you for all the cooking you’ve been doing since we moved in?” Setsuna postulated in return.

“Maybe.” Ayumu admitted “But Yuu-chan should know by now that I enjoy cooking for her. And you as well, Setsuna-chan. I like watching you two eat what I’ve made for you.”

“Then perhaps she wants to experience that as well. We both know how much Yuu-san loves seeing people enjoy the songs she writes. Maybe now she wants the same with cooking.”

“Or maybe all three.”

Setsuna chuckled. “Maybe all three.”

“All three what?” Yuu asked, approaching the table with a serving dish full of food. “Wha’cha talking about?”

“Mm, nothing.” Ayumu hummed. “We were just talking about Yuu-chan.”

“Me? What about me?”

“I’ll tell you later. Maybe.” Ayumu stuck out her tongue.

“Mohh…” Yuu pouted but didn’t press the issue.

For her part, Setsuna enjoyed the rare reversal of roles as Ayumu managed to get some teasing in on Yuu. She admired how comfortable the two were with each other and how they knew just what to say or do to get an adorable reaction out of the other. It was a bit enviable, to say the least. As close as she had become to them over the past couple years, she was nowhere near that level. That hadn’t stopped Yuu from learning how to tease her, however.

Once portions were plated up, Setsuna opened her laptop and began to study. The meal was indeed as good as it had smelled, so Ayumu and Setsuna were sure to point this out, much to Yuu’s delight. Then, the other two continued to chat and hangout while Setsuna studied, before eventually joining her with their own.

----------

“Are you going to take a bath tonight, Setsuna-chan?” Ayumu asked.

Setsuna looked up from her screen. Had it really gotten that late already? She realized both Ayumu and Yuu had already returned from their own bathes and she hadn’t even noticed their absence.

“Right, uhm, sorry.” Setsuna replied, getting up.

“It’s fine.” Ayumu sounded a bit confused about the apology as she plugged in her hairdryer and knelt behind Yuu. “I’ll dry your hair when you get back.”

Setsuna nodded her agreement and made a hasty trip to her room to gather her bathing supplies and her pajamas. Not only did she want to return to her studies quickly, but it had been a while since Ayumu last worked with her hair and months since she last dried it during a sleepover, so she was anxious for that as well.

Upon her return, Setsuna sat in front of her laptop and found where she had left off.

“You’re going to study while I do this?” Ayumu inquired, taking a position behind her.

“Uhm, I had planned to…” Setsuna admitted. “I’m sorry, I can…”

Ayumu laughed lightly. “It’s fine. I really admire your dedication, Setsuna-chan.”

“I want to prove to my parents that I can be an idol and still earn a degree.”

“I know.” Ayumu patted a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Just be sure not to overdo it, alright?” She said, turning on the dryer and threading her fingers into dark strands of hair.

Setsuna lost her place as her finger clipped the scroll wheel of her mouse. She had almost forgotten how wonderful this felt; the warm air, the gentle strokes…

“You alright, Setsuna-chan?”

“I’m fine, I’m just…” She let out a content sigh and her shoulders slumped as Ayumu made another pass.

Ayumu giggled.

Setsuna felt heat in her cheeks that had nothing to do with the air from the dryer. She steeled herself and put every effort toward concentrating on the screen.

Once Ayumu finished with Setsuna’s hair, she moved to her usual spot at the table so she could get in a bit of studying as well. Then after about an hour or so, she yawned, closed her book and pushed herself out from under the kotatsu.

“I’m going to turn in.” Ayumu said, making her way to her bed.

“Good night, Ayumu-san.” Setsuna replied.

“Sleep well.” Yuu added.

----------

Ayumu stirred when there was movement on the mattress. She cracked open one eye to see Yuu sliding under the duvet beside her. Yuu murmured something unintelligible before releasing a content sigh and settling down. Déjà vu.

Ayumu craned her neck up enough to see over Yuu’s head. She quickly spotted Setsuna, still sitting at the kotatsu, face lit by the artificial light of her laptop and eyes fervently scanning the screen.

“Remember not to stay up too late, Setsuna-chan.” Ayumu called out softly.

“Mm…” Setsuna hummed and nodded, seeming to have barely registered the call through her focus.

Déjà vu again.

Well, at least tonight, Ayumu consoled herself with the fact that she had pulled out a futon for Setsuna to use. Granted, it was still folded up in the corner, but the study-o-holic girl should be able to handle moving the table to make room for it.

----------

Ayumu opened her eyes to the sound her alarm and reached up to the shelf of her headboard to find her phone. As her senses kicked in, she realized something felt off. She was the only one in her bed. Where was Yuu?

For that matter, where was Setsuna? Ayumu could see a still-folded futon in the corner and did not see the familiar sight of Setsuna also waking to the alarm. What happened last night?

All week, Yuu had stayed up to study and keep Setsuna company while Ayumu went to bed as she had the earliest classes. All week, Yuu had slid into Ayumu’s bed when she finally ran out of energy. And all week, despite a futon being available for her to lay out, Setsuna had exhausted herself to the point where she had simply collapsed across the kotatsu.

But now Ayumu was alone and a strange sensation of discomfort began to creep through her.

She sat up, moved to the edge of the bed, swung her leg down and…

“?!”

Ayumu jerked her knees up to barely avoid kicking Yuu in the head. To maintain her balance, she dropped her heels down onto the bedframe, making sure to keep her feet away from the other girl’s face.

Sprawled on her back, Yuu was sound asleep. With her legs under the kotatsu, it looked like she had simply collapsed backward after running herself out of energy.

And there was Setsuna as well, nuzzled into Yuu’s shoulder.

Cute.

By the gods were they cute like that.

But, oh… geez, here comes the jealousy… Ayumu found herself wanting Setsuna to snuggle against her like that. And for that matter, why hadn’t Yuu done so any of the times she had crawled in next to her all week?

Yuu and Setsuna had become quite close as of late. Perhaps that was why Setsuna wanted to sleep next to Yuu? But she and Setsuna had become close too, right?

And why hadn’t Setsuna awakened to the alarm like she had all week? Was she just that comfortable nuzzled into Yuu’s shoulder?

Geez…

Ayumu swallowed down those disquieting feelings and got up. As quietly as possible, she began to gather her things to head to the bathroom and wash up for the day.

“Eh?” a voice sounded from behind her followed but a thump. “Geh…”

Ayumu turned to see Setsuna frantically scrambling out from under the kotatsu before rubbing a hip and wincing.

“Are you alright, Setsuna-chan?” Ayumu asked, noting that several objects on the table had shifted position.

“A-Ayumu-san?” Setsuna was still panicked. “I-I’m sorry. I don’t remember. How did I? What… I’m sorry…”

“Mmhph…” Yuu stirred and slowly opened her eyes. “G’mornin’ Ayumu…” She slurred as her gaze fell on the redhead before offering a sleepy smile.

“Yuu-san, I’m sorry!” Setsuna redirected her apologies.

“Mm?” Yuu’s head lolled to the side. “Oh, hey, Setsuna-chan. Good morning.” Had she not heard the other girl’s apology? “Ow…” Yuu uttered as she banged her hands into the bed while trying to stretch. “Forgot where I fell asleep.” She chuckled at herself before sitting up and stretching properly.

Would she have not hit her hands against the headboard had she done that in bed? Ayumu pondered silently. Maybe she thought she was back in her own room on her couch?

“You two sleep alright?” Ayumu ventured.

“Pretty much.” Yuu confirmed. “Obviously stayed up too late, though… Oops. Probably going to have to take a nap this afternoon after class. But for now, coffee.” She started getting up. “You want some, Setsuna-chan?”

“Eh?” Setsuna startled out of her post panic stupor. “Oh, uhm, yes please.”

“I’ll make some tea for you as well, Ayumu.” Yuu offered with a grin. “I’ll have it ready by the time you get back.”

“Oh, alright.” Ayumu nodded. “Thanks, Yuu-chan.”

With that said, Ayumu headed for the door, wondering if Yuu had noticed anything different about her sleeping arrangement.

----------

Author’s Note Continued in Followup Post

[solynaceawrites]

Wires [4]: Frustration

Rating: Mature Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/F, F/M Fandom: Devil May Cry Relationships: Dante/Original Female Character(s), Implied Nero/Kyrie, Implied Vergil/Original Female Character(s), Implied Lady/Trish, Dante/Lirael Thorne, Dante/Lir Characters: Dante, Morrison, Nero, Original Female Character(s), Lirael Thorne, Lir Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Violence, Gore, Dark, Horror, Supernatural Elements, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Serial Killers, Angst, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut Summary: In Red Grave City, a serial killer stalks the streets. Lirael Thorne, recently transferred from Fortuna and looking for an escape from her past, winds up on his trail. Hunting him with her veteran partner, Dante Redgrave, they try to piece together the wires that bind the three of them together. In a race to catch him before he leaves more victims in his wake, the things thought buried will come to the surface, tearing lives and comfort apart.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

“Death and life are the same thing- like the two sides of my hand, the palm and the back. And still the palm and back are not the same . . . They can neither be separated, nor mixed.” —Ursula K. Le Guin

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Lir takes Simon Marson’s statement with a grain of salt. It’s not that she doesn’t trust him—she doesn’t trust lawyers as a whole, but nothing so far has given her a reason to believe he’d outright lie—just that she’s learned firsthand how memories get clouded and fuzzy, particularly about routines. Sure, their victim worked for him. And, yes, she probably did the exact same thing every day, going to her paid internship at her father’s office Monday through Saturday, taking Sunday off, and spending Friday night bar-hopping with her friends. Yet there’s simply too much Marson was unaware of. The questions of who her friends are, what she did when she wasn’t working, her hobbies, any potential lovers, hell even where she lived, are all ones he provided no answer to or understanding of. To him, Sophie truly existed only in the hours between 8:00 am and 6:30 pm. Which isn’t exactly unusual, but it makes her job of following those leads harder, and she ends their interview feeling more irritated than she had when she started.

Dante, too, must be frustrated, because he says nothing at all to her when he leaves the observation room to join her at their desks, merely clacking angrily on his keyboard as he types his report. Lir does the same, transcribing the interview with Marson and her notes to send to Morrison later. A stiff drink is what she needs, maybe a call to Joan for a bit of relaxation, but she settles for chewing aspirin and drinking the bitter coffee unique to precincts. By the time she’s done recounting the events of the last thirty-six hours, her fingers are stiff and the throbbing in her temples has turned into a fierce clawing that makes her eyes water, and she’s keenly aware of the fact that they’re fast closing in on the forty-eight hour mark and how much more difficult this investigation is going to be beyond it.

“You eaten?” Dante asks. Lir shakes her head, and he picks up his phone, dialing quickly. “Me neither. ‘Bout to keel over, if I’m honest. You good with pizza?”

“Sure. Whatever toppings are fine.”

He flashes her a grin before speaking into the receiver, and Lir uses the time to read back over Trish’s findings. They aren’t pretty. While there were no ligature marks, showing that Sophie was neither restrained nor strangled, there were heavy levels of Rohypnol in her blood, meaning she would have been unable to do anything at all. In fact, Trish notes that the dose probably would have been fatal, given the fact that Sophie was well over the legal limit for intoxication, clocking a BA of 0.16%, putting her at the threshold for alcohol poisoning. Did she normally drink so much? Lir runs her fingers over the paper, frowning slightly as she thinks. Joan hadn’t said much more about Sophie’s habits other than her cocktail of choice, and they hadn’t asked for a receipt, a stupid oversight that needs to be corrected. Because if that much liquor was’t common for Sophie, it means either she was drinking a lot more, which could lead them to recent stresses.

Or that the killer was feeding her margaritas all night to make sure she was too weak to fight him.

“There was no phone recovered from the alley, right?” she asks. Dante gives a grunt as he hangs up the phone, and she leans back, stretching to relieve the tension in her shoulders. “We’ve got to find her friends, talk to them.”

“What about the mother?”

“Gone. Parents divorced when Sophie was . . .” Lir checks her notes. “Six. The original custody agreement was for the mom to have supervised visitation, but she went no contact when Sophie was twelve. The last Marson heard from her, she was living with her new husband in Portland.”

Dante whistles. “No contact? Think Marson was abusing her?”

“Maybe. But why would Sophie hang around, if that was the case? You watch your dad beat on your mom for six years and wind up working for him?”

He grunts and leans back, crossing his arms over his chest and staring thoughtfully at a spot just over her right shoulder. “Abuse doesn’t always make it to the kids,” he says after a moment. “Sure, maybe pops was an asshole, but he was probably smart enough to keep it behind closed doors. Or maybe there wasn’t anything goin’ on other than two people who didn’t want to be together anymore.” He pauses to take a sip of coffee. “Could have been mom, too.”

“Right.” Lir massages her temples, and the pressure there subsides enough that she no longer feels like her eyes are going to burst. A migraine is the last thing she needs right now, but that’s exactly where she’s headed if she doesn’t get some sort of rest soon. “So, we have a victim whose father knows nothing about her personal life, a killer who was smart enough to make sure we couldn’t trace her beyond the bar, and, after nearly forty hours, no real answers.”

“Sounds about right.” Dante’s grin is bitter.

“Fuck.” She drums her fingers on her desk. “Crime scene still roped off?”

“As far as I know. You plannin’ a visit?”

“Yeah. I need to get some air, and I want to take it in now that it’s quiet.” Lir grabs her coat from the back of her chair as she stands, sliding it on before leaning to open her desk and grab her gun and badge. Fastening them to her belt, she mutters, “Maybe something got missed.”

Dante gets up, stretching with a loud yawn. “Alright. I’ll go with you.”

“I don’t need—”

“I’m not babysittin’ you, Lir.” His eyes are somehow both grave and mocking, and she’s not sure which irritates her more. “There’s a killer. None of us should be goin’ out alone, especially with the statistics about who else might show up there to get their jollies.”

That gives her pause. “Right. Okay. You driving?”

He dangles his keys. Lips twitching, she turns and heads down the stairs and out to the lot, listening to the quiet thumping of Dante’s shoes as he follows her. For someone so big, he doesn’t make a lot of noise when he moves, and she wonders idly if it’s a force of habit or just how he is as she slides into the passenger seat of his car and fastens her seatbelt. Like always, he flicks on the radio and finds a classic rock station before starting the drive, and he ignores her popping two aspirin into her mouth and chewing them dry. 

The ride back to the alley passes in the silence between them. Lir looks out of her window, the rain sliding along the glass turning the world outside to a muted painting of blurred shapes and bright flashes of color on an otherwise dreary background, and thinks. Sophie Marsons had gone to the bar, as was her usual weekend habit, and ordered her preferred drink. Had she gone with friends? Had they danced, and laughed, until a stranger stole into their group, with eyes only for Sophie, eyes full of murder that she might have mistaken for desire? Despite what she had said to Dante about their victim being chosen randomly, Lir has little doubt that she knew her killer. Statistics point to it, the inevitable need for the comfort brought by familiarity that a new killer needs to do his work. Statistics, the voice of her old academy instructor rasps in her mind, are statistically incorrect.

If Sophie wasn’t the first, then there’s another victim out there.

Cold, bitter rain lashes her as soon as she steps out of the car. Huffing, watching her breath condense and twist in the air, Lir pulls her hood up around her face and tucks her hands into her pockets, wishing she had a slicker even if the garish yellow color of it would make her stick out like a sore thumb. Dante joins her, grimacing as he sets a black trilby on his head, water dripping from the brim steadily. “Good thing we already got forensics,” he mutters.

“Mm.” Making a non-committal noise in her throat, she ducks under the crime scene tape and walks into the alley, where she stands and takes it in. Without pedestrian and vehicular traffic on the street, it’s unnervingly quiet; is this how it was at four in the morning? Nothing but silence as the dull oppressiveness of the city while Sophie was carved open like livestock? 

Lir is moving towards the dumpster when something rustles behind it. Pausing, she stares at it, her brow pinched and her hand moving slowly to her gun, waiting. Cat, she thinks, or rat. Something digging for scraps now that humanity has gone away. But the silhouette she can just make out on the other side is too large, and, as she watches, a tanned hand grips the edge before a rain-soaked head pokes cautiously around, the eyes that she sees wide enough that the whites are like spotlights. Behind her, she hears Dante hiss, the faint splash of water as he slowly comes up beside her. Looks like he was right. Someone else had shown up, and now all that’s left to do is figure out whether or not they’re the murderer.

“Police,” Dante barks. “Don’t move!”

The man jumps to his feet and takes off, and Lir lets out a string of curses as she darts after him. They always fucking run, guilty or innocent, because seeing a cop always makes them feel like they’ve done something wrong. Bearers of bad news, thugs with guns, she’s heard it all, and she wonders how this guy thinks of the police even as she chases him down the winding alleys of a city she’s already growing to hate. “Thorne!” Dante shouts, his voice dwindling as the distance between them grows. “Goddamnit, Thorne!”

Up ahead, the black coat swirls as the man rushes through the maze. Sometimes all she has is a glimpse of fabric as he turns a corner, others, on the straight, narrow stretches, she can make out more of him, and her mind catalogues these snapshots. Slender build. Dark jeans. Heavy boots. The glint of a ring. A pair of wild eyes peering over his shoulder. Despite knowing she should draw it, Lir leaves her gun holstered. Don’t you ever, her instructor had said gravely, take that thing out unless you intend to shoot, and she’s got no desire to fire a bullet that would at best embed itself harmlessly into a wall and at worst ricochet and cause more damage.

Her hood falls back, rain plastering her hair to face and neck. In her chest, her heart is a drum, and her blood roars in her ears, equaled only by the low whistle of her breathing as she tries to control it to fight off fatigue. Keep moving, she tells her legs, don’t fucking stop until you know who he is.

At her hip, her radio crackles, only to be ignored. Right now, it is only her and her prey, locked in the chase until one of them is forced to stop. Guilty people run, sure. So do frightened ones. Which is he? Killer or morbid onlooker, dangerous or afraid? 

Lir never gets the chance to find out. They burst into a side-street, the cars around them blaring horns of fear and anger at this sudden intrusion, and a hand clamps onto her shoulder and yanks her back as a truck passes through the space she’d been about to step into. By the time it and its trailer clear out, the man is gone, and a scream bubbles in her throat that she fights to swallow. She knows who grabbed her—the scent of Dante’s cologne, muted by the rain, wafts into her nose, accompanied by the spiced, salty blend of sweat and deodorant—and she allows him to lead her back to the sidewalk, where she doubles over with her hands on her thighs and struggles to slow her breathing from the harsh, jagged pants to something close to normal. At this angle, she can make out the way water has turned the leather of his shoes a dull brown. Never gonna look nice again, she thinks, and closes her eyes against the swell of nausea that comes from exertion on an empty stomach.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Dante growls, his voice rasping and hoarse from chasing her. “You ever stop to think for a damned second that we’d need backup? Or that chasing that idiot could have gotten you killed?”

The scolding makes her angry all over again. “I’m sorry,” she snaps, straightening to glare at him. “Should I have let our only lead so far go?”

“If it meant surviving? Yeah, you should’ve. Or were you hoping to wind up like Marsons?” His eyes are cold with fury, his cheeks flushed with it. “I told you, I fucking told you—”

Lir’s phone rings, cutting off whatever tirade he’d been heading towards. Scowling, she answers it. “Thorne.”

“You with Redgrave?” Morrison asks, crackling with static. 

“Yeah.” Dante makes an impatient motion with his hand, and she holds up a finger in the standard request for a minute of silence.

“Get your asses over to Tellula Park. He’ll know where it is.”

There’s something so foreboding about Morrison’s tone that Lir knows the answer to her question before she even asks it. “What’s there?”

Morrison sighs. “Another body. Looks like our killer didn’t want to wait for us to catch him.”

“We’ll be there.” She hangs up, then looks at Dante, frustration and defeat welling within her to make her voice curiously flat. “There’s another victim in Tellula Park.”

Dante curses. “Our guy?”

“Morrison said it was,” she replies.

He glances around, studying the street sign at the intersection. “C’mon. Car’s about two blocks away. We’ll have to book it if we don’t want Morrison to rip us new assholes for taking our sweet time.”

Lir nods. Dante turns and starts down the sidewalk, and she follows, craving a drink and a good night’s rest and maybe a bit of company, angry to have wasted time on some idiot onlooker when the killer was busy leaving them another corpse, another family to notify, another twisted web. I didn’t know, she thinks, and that just makes her feel worse. Tunnel vision, that’s what she had fallen into, too focused on what was in front of her nose to take a second to really contemplate if a killer who took such care not to be noticed would have been so stupid as to come back to the scene of his crime in the middle of the day with cops still around. 

They’re sweating and miserably damp by the time they reach the car. Dante pulls towels from the backseat for them to sit on—something her father had done, to keep water from damaging the seats—and turns on the heater to fight some of the chill. It’s only once they’re on their way to the new scene that he says anything at all. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Lir’s head snaps towards him at both the words and the sympathy within them. Not that it’s unusual for cops to know how their partner feels, but usually that takes years of working together, not days, so either he’s particularly good and reading the people around him or he’s projecting. “What?”

“The new victim,” he explains. “Wasn’t anything you could have done. We had and have nothing to go on, and you chasin’ that guy didn’t get this one killed. Or,” his mouth twitches, “do you think you’re better than every other cop on the force?”

“Of course not,” she protests hotly. “I just . . .”

Dante cracks the window and lights a cigarette that he pulls from the pack in his door. “Look,” he says, exhaling smoke, “I get it. You’re new, gotta prove yourself, and this guy is a pain in the ass. But you ain’t got any control over him, or what he does. Only thing you can do is learn, be better, so you can catch him.”

It’s spoken in the same tone he might have used to console a weeping toddler, and she bristles. “You don’t know me.”

“No, but I read your file.” He glances at her as he tosses the cigarette, still half-lit, out of the window. “You know what was top and center on the behavior section? Empathetic. You feel things, Thorne, feel ‘em deep, maybe, and that’s great for gettin’ inside the head of whoever’s doin’ this, but it means he can get inside your head, too, if you let him.”

She sinks into her seat, thinking of her dream, and gooseflesh breaks out across her arms despite the warm air blowing from the vents. “So what’s your drive, then? Fame? Promotions?”

Dante snorts. “Nah. Just don’t like bastards who hurt women, that’s all.” He pauses, then exhales slowly. “Look. I’m not gonna rat you out to Morrison. You made a decision that anyone else would’ve made. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t a fucking stupid decision, but . . . It stays between us. Right?”

There’s a rush of gratitude that she hates feeling. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Okay,” he agrees amicably.