#they stare at you and then grudgingly acknowledge there MIGHT have been a reason you called and then say there's nothing they can do

[tafadhali]

Got hit by a car today

I'm totally fine (if sore) but having someone accelerate into your fragile human body feels really personal

Also having a ton of lawyers and like everyone you're doing jury duty with see and hear you get hit by a car (crying "Why did you do that to me???") as you head into jury duty is a real way to start a day

[chiliiscereal]

chosen last: part three

The people asked and so they shall receive

https://chiliiscereal.tumblr.com/post/650808822043115520/chosen-last

https://chiliiscereal.tumblr.com/post/651201066386554880/chosen-last-part-two

Summary: a boy takes notice of reader for the first time and Donnie is worried that he’s bad news. Little do both of them know, he’s right

Warning: mentions of attempted rape

——-

You felt so much better about yourself when your birthday was over. It was honestly one of the best you’d ever had. Better than the ones your friends planned anyway. You still went, but it was nothing like the party that the turtles threw. You didn’t think it could get any better.

Until, that is, something happened that almost made you change your mind.

You friend put a picture of you and her, together, up on Snapchat.

And... for the first time in your life... a guy took notice of you.

It wasn’t much. It was just “who’s that? Low key cute. Whats their snap?”

That happened to your friends.

Never to you.

Even more surprising, your friend gave him your snap.

Eric.

Eric was his name.

And he also went to your school!

You were incredibly nervous about this. Every single time a boy took interest in you it never seemed to be what your thought it was.

Last time a boy took interest in you it was ACTUALLY so they could get with your friend. That, my friends, was two years ago. Your friends blasted through boys like there was no tomorrow. But you? You’d never had someone interested in you like that.

Until now.

You talked to him and... honestly... you felt like there was something there.

He asked a lot about you and just seemed like the one, you know? You both shared the same interest in shows! You both enjoyed the same music!

Whenever he responded to you, you just couldn’t help but feel elated.

You would fall back on your bed and stare at the ceiling, feeling like this was a scene from a movie.

He didn’t wait for twenty minutes to respond to you.

He acknowledged every single thing you said.

And when he met up with you after school...

Wow.

Just wow.

He was incredibly handsome and polite.

He even held doors open for you!

You found yourself meeting up with him again and again.

It made you feel so... important.

Unfortunately, the turtles didn’t feel the same way.

————

“Who ya talkin’ to?” Leo leaned closer to look over your shoulder from his spot beside you on the couch.

It was movie night with the boys and April.

You brought you phone to your chest to obscure his view. “Hey hey hey back off!” You playfully shoved him away. “Just a friend.”

Mikey gave you a shit eating grin when he noticed the smile slipping onto your face. “Just a friend huh?” He pulled himself off the floor and reached for your phone. “Let me see let me see!”

You held it away from him to. “Woah this is my phone! Get away!”

A metal claw snatched it from your hand, retracting back to Donnie.

“And is this ‘friend’ a boy or a girl?” He opened your phone. “Ugh, what’s your password?”

You leapt off the couch and tried to grab your device back. “Does it matter?”

Donnie tapped away at the buttons, using his metal claws from his battle shell to keep you away. “No, it doesn’t matter unless it’s a BOY.” You phone buzzed slightly as it opened to your home screen. “Aha, I am in!”

Mikey and Leo both crawled over to their soft shelled brother to observe from behind him.

“Donnie, give it back.” You ordered, looking to April for help. She just shrugged and continued watching with a smirk. “Guys, come on! It’s not a big deal!”

Raph pulled himself off the floor and placed his hands on his hips. “Alright, jokes over; give the phone back.”

Donnie groaned. “Come on! I’m so close to figuring out who y/n’s talking to!”

Raph gave him a stern look. “Now. It’s private and obviously Y/n doesn’t want you looking through it.”

Donnie, Mikey, and Leo all gave him giant puppy eyes.

Raph simply held out his hand.

Donnie sighed. “Fine. Here.”

You sighed as well but in relief.

Raph took it from him, glancing down at your phone. To your dismay, it was open up to messages. “Eric Sherrin?” He asked in confusion.

“AHA!” Donnie shouted in triumph. “A name is all I need!” He began typing in the device on his wrist.

“Raph!” You accused angrily.

Ugh what were you gonna do now??

You’d never hear the end of this.

“Hey! Raph’s on your side! I didn’t know he could find out with just a name!” He held up his hands in defense.

“Eric?” April asked as she swiped through her phone. “Does he go to our school?”

You glared at Donnie before you decided whether or not to share that.

He shrugged. “Hey, I already have his social media up and every piece of information I could find. Whether or not you say will change nothing.”

“Fine.” You growled. “Yes, he goes to our school. He’s a mutual friend with my other friends.”

April raised a brow. “And that’s supposed to make me feel better.”

You shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Well it doesn’t.”

April was dead set on despising your friends. You knew she had good reason but you didn’t need it brought up now.

Leo took the computer that Donnie had sent all the information to, scrolling through Eric’s social media. “Wow, there are a lot of pictures of him holding fish.” He snorted. “Does he think that’s gonna impress people or something?”

“I’ve never understood the appeal.” Donnie shook his head. “So what? You killed an animal good for you.”

“I think it’s about killing a BIG animal.” Leo squinted at the screen. “There’s also lots of pictures of him with other girls.”

“Guys can you just stop?” You placed your hands on your hips. “It’s sweet that you’re trying to make sure he’s not some idiot but you’re invading his privacy-!”

“Woah, look what I found in his records from the school.” Donnie waved his brothers closer.

Even Raph and April did so.

“He harassed at girl at school?” Mikey repeated as he read the screen. “Really?”

“Yeah no this guy’s bad news.” Donnie shook his head in disappointment. “Y/n, give me your phone. I’ll block him for you.” He even reached his hand out expectantly.

You held your phone closer. “No, that’s just a rumor that spread at school.”

The boys stopped what they were doing.

“You knew?” Leo narrowed his eyes. “And you’re still interested?”

“He told me that the teachers didn’t believe him.” You responded as you crossed your arms. “Some girl made it up cause she didn’t like him.”

“You can’t take that risk.” Raph crossed his arms.

“Raph, I thought you were in my side!” You protested.

“That was before Raph found out that the guy harassed someone.” He defended. “Come on, you know this can’t end good.”

Your stomach burned with anger.

Anger that they felt they could order you around like that.

That they wouldn’t even let you figure it out yourself.

That this might end just like every other romantic interest would.

“Why won’t you just let me handle this myself?” You stuffed your hands in your pockets and flopped back down in the couch.

Mikey crawled into the spot next to you, wrapping his arms around you. “You’re one of our best friends! We don’t want anything to happen to you!” He gave you wide innocent eyes as if that would erase your anger.

Well... it did.

Curse him and his adorable eyes.

You rolled your eyes and hugged him back. “I know. I just want to figure this out myself.” You gave Donnie a hard glare as your rested your chin on Mikey’s shoulder.

“Fine.” He closed all the tabs on his computer grudgingly. “But I know this is just gonna end in heartbreak.”

“What a vote of confidence.” Leo snorted and plopped down in the spot next to you.

He smirked when you ignored him, still hugging Mikey.

“Hey, come on, you know you can’t stay mad at this face.” He leaned against you dramatically. “I’m the face man! You can’t resist me!” He pulled you away from Mikey and draped his arm over your shoulder. “You know you love me.”

You turned your head away from him, more playful now than spiteful.

“Come onnnnn...” he smirked. “You love meeee...”

You shoved him off the couch with a laugh. “I’m still thinking that over.”

Raph quickly took Leo’s seat as his younger brother rubbed the spot he’d landed on.

“No hard feelings?” Raph rested his arm on the couch behind you as he started the movie back up.

“Fine. No hard feelings.”

Leo moved so he was sitting on the floor and leaning against your legs.

You couldn’t stay mad at them. Well, except Donnie. You could very well stay mad at Donnie.

And it seemed that Donnie could stay mad at you as well. He left the room with all his tech, grumbling something under his breath.

“I already know how this is gonna end.” He grumbled.

“Love you to, Donnie.” You muttered, sinking into the couch.

Whatever.

He’d get over it soon enough.

————

Donnie didn’t get over it.

Whenever you came over to hang out he brought it up again casually. Well, as casually as Donnie could be, which wasn’t very casual at all.

“Ugh, this game sucks!” Mikey shouted at the tv once.

“Not as much as Eric What’s-his-face’s record.” He’d commented, giving you a glance out of the corner of his eye.

Or even:

“Ugh you can’t trust those pop up ads.” Raph told Leo when his phone had downloaded a virus after he clicked an ad.

“Just like how you can’t trust Eric.” He’d ran into the room to spit that out.

If Raph ever asked how things were going with Eric, Donnie either magically appeared next to him with a hopeful look or disappear with a groan.

You and Eric weren’t even together.

But... you hoped you would be soon.

He invited you to a party that Friday! And he’d specified that he’s invited you as his date.

Your friends were excited, surprisingly. They wanted to help you find an outfit and everything.

Finally, you felt like things were going right.

Why couldn’t Donnie just be happy for you?

——-

“Why won’t you come?” You begged April as she flopped down onto your bed.

“You’ve got Eric and all of your other friends.” She waved you off. “Besides, you know I hate parties.” She sat up slightly. “And Eric gives me the heebie jeebies.”

You rolled your eyes and held out a dress. “Yeah, yeah. Fine, I won’t make you.”

April touched the fabric of the dress with a frown. “Is this what your friends picked out for you? I thought you didn’t like dresses?”

You shrugged. “They said Eric would like it and that it looked good on me.”

April fully sat up now. “But you’re gonna be so uncomfortable in that!”

“I mean, it’s supposed to be pretty, not comfy, right?” You shrugged, slipping it on over your head. “Does it look good?” You gave her a small twirl.

“Of course it’s pretty... but its a little... much.” She shook her head. “Does Eric really deserve to see you in that?”

The last bit was playful but still...

“I think so.” You say down beside her. “I’m just so incredibly nervous and I don’t know if this is a bad idea.”

You felt exposed.

But, you also trusted that the people at the party could be trusted with that.

April draped her arm over your shoulder. “Well you look stunning.”

You smiled back at her. “Thanks.”

“Alright, girl, your party’s in twenty minutes. Ready to head out?” She jabbed her thumb in the direction of the door.

You stood up and smoothed out the dress. “Ready.”

———

You stood in front of the house nervously. You could hear the music and see the lights and people dancing. You just didn’t know if you actually were ready.

“You look hot, y/n.” Your friend told you, glancing at one of your other friends. “He’s gonna love it.”

You didn’t really love it, but if he liked it then so would you.

“Hope so.” You muttered, checking your phone.

Donnie sent you a simple text:

Don’t trust Eric and keep pepper spray on hand.

Wow, such confidence.

You ignored it and stuffed your phone in the dress pocket. You didn’t need that. You needed all the confidence you could muster.

“Wow.” A voice said from behind you, causing you to jump.

There was Eric, dressed nicely and with a charming smile on his face.

“You look hot.” He grinned.

Your stomach fluttered. “Oh, thank... thank you!”! You smoothed it out nervously.

You didn’t know if your stomach felt this way out of nerves or out of feelings for him. You really couldn’t tell.

He placed his hand over your hip and pulled you to his side. “Well Let’s head on in! Can’t wait to show you off.”

Your stomach jumped. “Well, I just wanted to wait a little,” he opened the door and dragged you in, “oh okay!”

Your friends and Eric were at your side the whole time.

You still felt as if you were on display while you and your group were dancing.

You still felt like the dress was too short when you and Eric sat down on the couch.

You felt like he was staring at you when you noticed the couples in the room kissing and making out.

“You wanna head upstairs?” He asked as he took your hand.

Your heart jumped. “No, no I’m good. Really.”

“Come on.” He nodded his head in the direction of the stairs. “It’ll be fun!”

You shook your head. “No I don’t want to go upstairs.”

He looked disappointed but you stayed confident with your choice. You didn’t want that and you weren’t ready.

He recovered quickly and dropped your hand. “Alright! I’m just gonna go talk to a friend real quick, I’ll be back.”

You sighed in relief when you realized he wouldn’t push it on you.

He got up and you pulled out your phone, trying to decide if you wanted to text Donnie back.

You settled on typing:

Yeah yeah whatever.

You saw he read it but he didn’t respond.

What was with him?

Why couldn’t he just be happy?

You glanced up, noticing Eric talking to one of your friends. You noticed him glance back at you and then back at your friend. She handed him something and he left to go to the kitchen.

You went back to your phone, waiting to see if Donnie would respond.

You just wanted your friend back.

Why couldn’t he just... ugh no you had to stop asking that. He was being too judgemental and untrusting.

There was nothing untrustworthy about Eric.

He was just being crazy...

You glanced up again, noticing Eric at the drink table. Whatever it was your friend had given him, he was slipping it in his drink.

You looked closer.

It was some sort of... powder?

When he turned back around you immediately acted like you hadn’t been watching.

He made his way to you and sat down, a drink in each hand. “I thought you looked a little thirsty, so I got you a soda!”

He handed you the red cup enthusiastically.

No, he couldn’t be trying to spike your drink. He wouldn’t do that.

But he was looking at you so expectantly.

“Oh, thank you!” You swirled the soda suspiciously. “I’m pretty sure I’m allergic to corn syrup so... sorry.” You set the drink back down.

Again, he looked disappointed. Maybe even a little mad.

“Hey, We’re gonna go upstairs and play a game!” Your friend shouted from across the room. “Wanna join?”

“What game?” You asked, feeling incredibly nervous.

“Truth or dare!” She giggled. “You’ll love it!”

Eric jumped on that idea expectantly. “Come on lets go!”

“I don’t really...”

He pulled you up before you could even finish.

You wanted to stay where people could see you!

But... you WERE gonna be with your friends...

“Alright, Fine.” You settled. “I’ll go.”

“Awesome!”

You and your group headed up and down the hallway.

Your friend opened the door for you and let you in first. Eric followed closely behind you.

It was a bedroom. A very dark bedroom.

“Hey, We’re gonna head down to the bathroom and freshen up first.” One of your friends smirked. “You two have fun!”

“Wait, no-!”

They were already gone and the door was shut.

Eric had gotten you upstairs.

Alone.

————-

Donnie sighed, trying hard to focus on his work. “Why can’t y/n just listen to me.” He groaned to himself. “I’m just trying to help! How does that make me the bad guy?”

He continued wiring his latest invention, frustrated at how he kept messing up.

“It’s not gonna end well.” He growled. “It’s gonna end in heartbreak and I’m gonna have to pick up the pieces.”

“If y/n even trusts you with that.” Leo added from behind him, causing him to jump.

“Nardo, how long have you been standing there?” He glowered at him. “I’m busy.”

Leo held up his hands in surrender. “A while. Anyway, you’re just pushing y/n away.”

“But y/n isn’t listening to me!” He protested, dropping his tool. “I’m right!”

“Maybe, but you’re also being a jerk.” He shrugged. “Maybe she’ll get her heart broken but you could at least be there for support.”

“Oh no no no I’m not supporting that relationship.” He shook his head vigorously and picked up his screwdriver.

“Not the relationship, egghead.” Leo rolled his eyes. “Our friend?”

“Oh.” Donnie tapped the table in thought. “Yeah, I guess I shouldn’t have left y/n on read...”

“...And maybe go apologize?” Leo prompted.

“No she’s at a party.” He glanced around his phone, checking your location again. “Actually...” he leaned closer to stare at his screen, “y/n’s not at the party any more.”

“Perfect!” Leo clasped his hands together. “Go apologize!”

“It can’t wait?”

“Go!”

———-

You sat on the rooftop, clutching your jacket to your body and watching the city.

How could you have been so stupid.

How could have let something like that happen.

It was incredibly cold on the rooftop but you didn’t want to move. You didn’t want to go home. You CERTAINLY didn’t want to go to the lair either.

You just wanted to watch the city and pretend everything was okay again.

Why did you have to get your hopes up.

No one ever took interest in you like that unless they wanted something from you.

“Scoff, there you are!” Said the last person you wanted to talk to. “I thought you were in the building and spent about an hour searching for you.”

“Tracking device?” You asked, not even looking at him.

“Yep.” Donnie confirmed. “Now, might I inquire why you’re out here?” He glanced at his watch. “And not at your party?”

You stayed quiet.

“Something happen with Eric?”

You gave him nothing.

“I knew it!” He jumped up and cheered. “I was right! I was RIGHT! Ha!”

His every word made you feel colder and more embarrassed.

“I knew from the start! I knew he was untrustworthy!” He continued. “Eat that!”

Finally, he calmed down enough to sit next to you.

“Now, tell me, what did he do?” He leaned close expectantly. “Did he cheat? Did he kiss a girl? Did he try to get with one of your friends? Did he-?”

“He tried to rape me.” You spat out, bringing your knees to your chest.

Well I’m out of room XD

Part four up soon!

[rocorambles]

Shareholders

Pairing: Iwaizumi x reader mainly, with sides of Oikawa x reader, Hanamaki x reader, Matsukawa x reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, Toxic Relationships, Manipulation, Spanking, NSFW, Degradation, Non-Con/Dub-Con

Summary: Iwaizumi is the only one who has your heart, but you’re realizing that you should have read the fine print of the contract when you signed up to be his girlfriend. Maybe then you would have seen the names of the other three shareholders clearly written out. 

Requested by Anon 

If someone had asked you how you felt about love and the idea of soulmates when you first entered high school, you would have laughed in their face. You were growing up, becoming more jaded, becoming more knowledgeable about the world. You didn’t have time for silly romantic notions, not with school, extracurriculars, and cramming for the college entrance exam. But then you met a spiky haired boy with the most beautiful green eyes you’ve ever seen and suddenly, love didn’t seem so far fetched. 

It wasn’t love at first sight, far from it. At most it was slight interest as the two of you sat through the same classes and walked past each other in the halls of Aoba Johsai. Neither of you yourselves really understand how it happened, but subtle nods of acknowledgement became friendly good mornings, polite small talk became playful exchanges full of inside jokes, and weekends spent separately became weekends you spent watching Iwaizumi’s volleyball games and going on dates to video arcades and movie theaters that were playing anything monster or Godzilla related. And now, as a third year, as an official adult, you think you just might have found your soulmate.

You cherish the moments you spend alone with Iwaizumi. Sometimes the moments are sweet as the two of you sit on a pair of swings and talk under the night sky full of stars twinkling, as if they’re winking at the two lovebirds encased in their soft glow. Sometimes the moments are heated as the two of you argue about which Godzilla remake is the best. Sometimes the moments are full of laughter as Iwaizumi holds you in his arms and recounts something stupid or funny that had happened at volleyball practice. And sometimes, now that both of you have passed the mark of adulthood and see each other for the man and woman you’ve both become, the moments are full of passion and desire as you lock the bedroom door and entangle limbs on a soft mattress.

Every second you have with your lover is perfect, but it’s becoming harder and harder to find time alone together. You like Iwaizumi’s friends. You really do. And you love the fact that he has such a good group of close friends, but sometimes you wonder if it’s normal for them to be so close to you as well. 

Matsukawa isn’t so bad, but you can almost feel his large presence hovering around you as you walk from class to class. You’ve gotten used to the way his tall frame casually leans outside your classroom door when the bell rings and you shoot a smile at him, but you find it odd that he picks you up from classes even more often than Iwaizumi does. He’s become a second shadow by your side and at first you had found it unnerving, especially since he doesn’t speak much, but over time you’d grown to find comfort in the security he radiated and the soothing peacefulness his quiet personality offered. 

On the other hand, there are definitely times when you wonder if you can muzzle Hanamaki. The chestnut haired boy has always been able to make you laugh and you genuinely enjoy talking to him, but his recent increase of pet names for you and his flirtatious remarks that borderline sexual innuendos make you tense. You had brushed off his initial usage of babe, honey, and sweetheart, but when he had called you a pillow princess in broad daylight, in front of your class, your cheeks had flamed a bright red and you had to fight the urge to slap him. But he always backed off at the perfect moment, right before you completely lost your cool, and you grudgingly continued conversing with him until the tension slackened and the two of you were back to your playful banter. 

But the worst of them all is Oikawa. The first time he had planted a kiss on your cheek you had frozen stiff, but you had just chalked it up to his womanizing ways and shrugged it off. But it’s harder to ignore the way he’s constantly finding ways to hold your hand, twirl locks of your hair around his long fingers, and far too intimately rest his hands on your hips. It’s unfortunate for you since Oikawa is also the one who you always feel the need to be on your best behavior around. You know he’s Iwaizumi’s best friend, the longest friend he’s ever had, a friend he’s practically known and spent his entire life with. But that doesn’t stop the way unease churns in your gut whenever he’s around you and it feels like he’s always around. In fact, it feels like all three of them are always around you, almost even more so than your boyfriend himself.

You consider bringing it up to Iwaizumi in private multiple times, but even when the three get up to their antics right in front of your boyfriend, he never seems to be bothered. He just shrugs his shoulders and continues talking to you when Matsukawa offers to hold your bags for you. He just laughs when Hanamaki leers at you with barely concealed lust in his eyes and says he’d love to see you in the skimpiest bikini they could find for the upcoming beach trip you’re all planning. And even when you had stared at him with panic written all over your face as Oikawa forcefully pulled you until you were sitting in his lap, Iwaizumi had just nonchalantly looked up at the two of you and told you both to keep it down as he bent his head back down to continue studying. You trust Iwaizumi with your heart, your life, so if he’s fine with everything and he isn’t concerned, maybe you’re just overthinking things? Yeah, that must be it. You mentally chide yourself for being ‘that girl’ you’ve always hated and made fun of, ‘that girl’ who complains about her boyfriend’s friends for no legitimate reason. Disgusted at yourself for getting so worked up over nothing, you vow to take your boyfriend’s lead and just take it all in stride. 

The rest of the school year continues until one day, your teacher decides to surprise you all with randomly assigning you partners for a project. The classroom groans. Isn’t it silly to forcefully pair up third years? It’s your last year and you all know each other enough to know exactly who you want to work with, but your teacher ignores your disgruntled muttering and that’s how you find yourself seated next to a boy you’ve seen around, but never really talked to outside of a few superficial lines of small talk. He’s nice enough and the two of you settle into a comfortable rhythm as you outline and plan out how to complete the project and you both smile as you exchange phone numbers, agreeing to text each other about when to meet up. 

It’s just your luck that this project is going to take an entire month to finish and you whine to Iwaizumi about not getting more time to hang out with him, but he just chuckles and flicks your forehead, telling you to behave and get your work done. After all, what’s one month when you have an entire summer break to spend together, four years of college, and hopefully an entire rest of your lives to spend together? You blush at the implications of the last part of that sentence, but you wholeheartedly agree and you throw yourself into the project, hoping to keep your grades up even in your last year. 

The work is more complex and time consuming than you had originally thought and your partner is just as studious as you, so the two of you find yourselves spending a lot of time together. You discuss what the best next step is between classes. You put your heads together at lunch as you both jot down ideas in your notebooks. You text each other about when’s a good time to meet up in person outside of school to keep on working. It’s all purely platonic, but the three sets of eyes following you, watching you, observing you narrow in displeasure. 

You aren’t around Iwaizumi as much as you furiously work to complete your project and the boys use that to their advantage, crafting words, twisting tales, whispering into Iwaizumi’s ears every chance they can get. During practice, in the locker room, as they walk back home together, they constantly feed him lies, exaggerations, and condemning words. Matsukawa makes offhands comments about how friendly the two of you seem to have gotten, claiming he was surprised when he saw your partner tuck a lock of hair behind your ear as the two of you walked together in between classes. His eyes look on in amusement as they catch the brief furrow in Iwaizumi’s brows. Hanamaki teases Iwaizumi for being so oblivious. “Iwaizumi, her partner’s going to steal her from right under your nose at this rate. I mean I saw the way he looked at her when they were talking and he totally wants to fuck her. He could barely stop looking at her tits and ass, not that I can blame the guy.” He secretly smiles when he sees the ace’s fists clench at his words. But the breaking point is when Oikawa comes rushing into the volleyball gym, loudly exclaiming of your betrayal. “Iwa-chan! I accidentally read Y/N’s text when I was sitting next to her and her partner asked her to get coffee with him this weekend. They’re going on a date! You need to stop them.” The three third years share a dark amused look when Iwaizumi spikes the balls harder than usual at practice that day.

Furious is an understatement for how Iwaizumi is feeling and he knows he’s being an asshole, he knows the criticism he shouts at Kindaichi and Kunimi is more harsh than it should be, he knows he’s hitting the spikes way too hard for a normal practice when Watari flinches as he practices his receives. But he can’t bring himself to care as the image of you and that fucking bastard who’s your partner fill his mind. The first and second years steer clear of their vice captain as the team freshens up in the locker room and Iwaizumi is so caught up in his thoughts that he misses the way Oikawa ushers the juniors out as quickly as he can leaving just the four third years alone. He practically growls when a hand is gently placed on his shoulder, but he takes a deep breath to calm down when he turns and sees Hanamaki raising both of his arms in submission. His stomach knots a little at the sympathetic look in both Matsukawa’s and Hanamaki’s eyes, but he’s distracted by Oikawa shoving a phone into his hands. “Iwa-chan, you need to talk to her right now! She should be wrapping up her club activity right now too. Tell her to come.” It’s actually not a bad idea and with the encouragement of his friends he finds himself shooting a text your way and they all wait for you to arrive.

“Can you come to the locker room? We need to talk.” You worriedly bite your lip as you run as fast as you can to the boy’s locker room. The text had come out of nowhere and it sounded so serious, so...final. You shake your head rapidly dispelling your greatest fear. No, there’s no way Iwaizumi was breaking up with you, you know how much the two of you love each other, but what could possibly be wrong then? You're panting for breath by the time you reach the meeting spot and you bang on the doors, expecting your boyfriend to come out, so you yelp in shock when instead, the doors open and a strong arm hauls you inside until you’re in the middle of the lit room, held tightly against a familiar hard chest. You wince at the harsh grip Iwaizumi has on your hips as he burrows his head into the crook of your neck, but you soothingly rub his back, the only part of his body you have access to in your current position as you gently coax him into telling you what’s wrong. 

A sarcastic laugh fills the room at your words and you flinch in surprise. You hadn’t realized anyone else was here and as your boyfriend’s grip loosens a bit, you squirm until you can look around and your face pales when you see the rest of the third years lounging around, staring at the both of you. “Hajime, I really shouldn’t be here, especially not if there are other guys in here. We’re going to get in so much trouble if someone finds out!” You struggle to escape his hold and rush out of the room, but his iron grip returns and holds you still. 

“Is it true? Are you going on a date with your partner this weekend?” 

“Wh-what?” You’re so flabbergasted by the question that your mouth flaps open and you make unintelligible sounds for a few seconds before you put yourself together. “Hajime, what are you talking about? Of course not! We’re just meeting up to work on the project.”  

“I didn’t realize you get coffee at the most popular cafe in town for dates just to work on a project with someone you barely know.” You angrily whip your head around and scowl at Oikawa. You’re beginning to realize exactly what’s happening and you frantically clutch Iwaizumi’s face in your hands and plead with him to take your side, to believe you, but you know your words are falling on deaf ears as every question he asks you and every answer you respond with is spoken over by one of the other three figures predatorily staring at you. Your heart sinks as you see the fury building in his sharp eyes and tears well in your eyes as you feel his nails dig painfully into your skin as he tightens his hold on you even more with every filthy lie his friends spew. It only stops when you begin to sob and hold Iwaizumi almost as tightly as he’s holding you, blabbering on and on about how much you love him, how sorry you are for making him feel like he isn’t the only man you need in your life.

You revel in the way calloused hands loosen their grip and begin to tenderly stroke your hair and soon the only sounds in the room are your sniffles and Iwaizumi’s affirmation of his love for you, but when your cries finally subside, a hand grabs your chin and firmly forces you to look up until you lock eyes with the green you’ve come to love. “I love you and I know you love me, but you need to be punished. I can’t just let you get away with thinking that flirting, letting other men touch you, letting other men even think they have a chance to be with you is okay.” You nervously look at the other three men still silently watching the two of you and you beg Iwaizumi to save the punishment for home, for when the two of you are alone. You know what his punishments entail and there’s no way in hell you’re letting them witness it, but your resistance and struggling only serve to irritate your boyfriend even more. You flinch when loud tearing sounds fill the room before fabric flutters to the floor and you desperately try to hide your now naked body as your ruined clothing mockingly litters the ground around you.

Iwaizumi sits on the bench and pats his lap as he pointedly stares at you and you hesitantly stumble over and lay yourself across him, your ass perfectly positioned in the middle of his thighs and you shudder when you feel his hand sensually rub the plump mounds before grabbing a handful and teasingly squeezing the flesh. Humiliation lances through you when you hear Hanamaki’s wolf whistle almost right in your ear and despite everything inside of you telling you not to look, to pretend this isn’t happening, you turn your head and see the three of them far too close to Iwaizumi and you, their shadows falling across your prone figure. You quickly duck your head into the crook of your arms as you try to hide your face, but a warning smack on your ass has you lifting it again, although you keep your eyes straight ahead, refusing to look at your spectators. 

“40 spanks.” “Hajime, that’s too much!” A smacking sound reverberates throughout the room and you scream at the sudden sharp pain. “I can increase it, babe. Don’t try me. I want you to count loud and clear and thank me after each hit. If any of us can’t clearly hear you, we’re starting from the beginning again.” You want to protest more, but the lingering ache from just that one hit stills your tongue and you whimper out a “yes, sir”. 

Smack. “One. Thank you, sir.” Smack. “Two. Thank you, sir.” Smack. “Three. Thank you, sir.” 

You try your best to keep the numbers in your head straight, to move your mouth and speak, but Iwaizumi is hitting you with the same force he uses in his spikes and pain and humiliation cloud your head and constrict your throat. When the thirteenth slap rains down all that escapes your mouth is a broken sob and you hear Oikawa’s voice mockingly sigh. “That’s no good. Iwa-chan told you what you need to say.” You clench your eyes shut in shame when Hanamaki moves to stand right in front of your face and crouches down until your eye to eye. “Did our little princess already forget how to count? Well, I hope you start counting like a big girl otherwise it’s going to be a long night.”

Smack. “One. Thank you, sir.” Smack. “Two. Thank you, sir.” Smack. “Three. Thank you, sir.” 

You make it further this time, spurred on by your determination to get this over with, but it’s no use and you stumble over your words as the 24th hit comes down on your aching flesh. You quickly try to fix your mistake, but Matsukawa just smirks at you and wags his index finger at you and you recoil at being treated like a misbehaving child. Dread pools in your stomach as you wait for Iwaizumi to start from the beginning all over again, but a voice interrupts him. 

“Iwa-chan, we have a game coming up. You shouldn’t overwork your arm.” Oikawa almost laughs at the confusion on Iwaizumi’s face and the hopeful glint in your eyes and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep the sick smile from stretching across his face when he sees your jaw drop at his next words. “Let’s take turns! We can forget about the counting rule since our silly little girl can’t seem to remember her numbers today. Iwa-chan’s already done more than his share, so how about 10 spanks each from the rest of us?” You wait for your boyfriend to stop this madness, to yell at them all in his trademark style, but panic consumes you when you feel him slide out from underneath you. “Not a bad idea, Shittykawa. Mattsun, you’re up.” Scrambling to get up, you raise yourself on all fours only to be shoved back down. “Behave,” your boyfriend grunts into your ear before affectionately kissing your temple as Matsukawa takes Iwaizumi’s seat and kneads your bruised cheeks. His hands are so big and you brokenly cry out from the pain of having the bruised flesh treated so roughly. It feels like ages before he finally stops his harsh handling of your sensitive skin, but you almost sob in relief when he begins to rain down hits. His slaps aren’t as powerful as Iwaizumi’s, but he purposefully aims for the tender spot where your thigh meets your ass and you scream as he repeatedly hits the same vulnerable spot over and over again. But despite the stinging pain, you don’t miss the way his other hand begins to slide down your back until it’s directly on your ass and you plead for him to stop as you feel long fingers spread your cheeks apart and fingertips begin to circle your tightly puckered hole, a hole even Iwaizumi hasn’t experienced yet. And for the first and only time of the night, your boyfriend’s voice sharply cuts through the air in warning and you relax as Matsukawa’s hand retreats back to your lower back.

Hanamaki’s up next and although he’s the weakest of the four, his hits are still strong enough that you whimper with every smack as your already abused bottom isn’t given any moment to rest. But what he lacks in power, he more than makes up for with his mouth and you try to cover your ears with your hands only to be stopped by Matsukawa gripping both your wrists tightly. “Damn, Iwaizumi. I’m jealous that you get to hit this whenever you want. You’re not going to be able to sit properly for days, princess. Red looks good on you. Shit, yeah, keep on squirming like that, sweetheart.” You freeze when you feel something hard nudging at your stomach. “Why’d you stop? You were making me feel so good.” You use all your willpower to stay as still as possible, but when fingers begin to dip into your pussy, your struggling renews. “Holy shit, you’re drenched, princess. Is this even a punishment if you enjoy it this much? Iwaizumi, your girl’s a slut.” Your ears burn with shame and you cry as Hanamaki rapidly thrusts his fingers in and out of you, the lewd wet sounds of your dripping cunt accompanying the loud smacks as his other hand continues your punishment. He finally finishes and you gasp when he rips his fingers out of you. 

You whimper when you feel a new set of hands spread your legs apart. “Wow, you’re so pretty even down here, Y/N-chan!” A tongue flattens against your pussy and languidly takes one long swipe and despite your wailing and cries for him to stop, you feel your pussy get even wetter from Oikawa’s action. You’ve never been more thankful for your boyfriend than when he yells at Oikawa to stop fooling around and get on with the last part of your punishment and with a “Mean, Iwa-chan!” the tall brunette takes his place underneath you and almost affectionately rests his hand on your ass. But you know better. You’ve seen Oikawa’s serves up close and personal. And sure enough, when his hand comes swinging down, a loud, piercing sound fills the room and it takes you a minute to register that it’s your own voice echoing throughout the room. He pauses between each hit, waiting for you to fully come down, waiting for your senses to return to you, and when you’ve barely scraped yourself together, he whips his arm through the air again. It’s a vicious cycle and you think you might faint from the sheer overwhelmingness of it all when he’s only halfway through, but Oikawa’s always been a master of reading people and he patiently waits no matter how long it takes for you to collect yourself together, wanting you to be fully aware when his palm meets your ass. You know you should feel nothing but hate for the handsome setter, especially since he’s one of the reasons you’re in this position, but he knows just the right words, just the right tone to use as he murmurs praises and encouragements to you and with your body overwrought with exhaustion, pain, and humiliation, you melt at the sweet words that act as a pleasant temporary escape.

Iwaizumi’s quick to wrap you in his arms as soon as Oikawa’s last smack echoes throughout the room and he carefully rearranges you, making sure not to even brush against your bottom more than necessary, until you’re curled up in his lap, your hands weakly wrapping around him as your face sinks into his muscled chest. He can feel your body quivering against his and he peppers kisses all over the top of your forehead, murmuring about how well you took your punishment, what a good girl you are, how much he loves you. And he feels his heart absolutely melt when you look up at him with glassy eyes and tell him how much you love him. He’s so lovestruck that he doesn’t even question the way your eyes trail to the other three men as you continue with your barely coherent words, apologizing for everything that you did. He doesn’t notice how you completely relax in his arms only when Matsukawa nods at you, Hanamaki smiles at you, and Oikawa winks at you in approval and forgiveness. 

Iwaizumi is the only one who has your heart, but you’re realizing that you should have read the fine print of the contract when you signed up to be his girlfriend. Maybe then you would have seen the names of the other three shareholders clearly written out. But as your eyelids grow heavy and you sink further into the toned body and earthy scent that have become like home to you, you vaguely think that it might all be worth it as long as Iwaizumi and you have each other.                        

[wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse]

Clear Waters (Fili x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2069

A/N ok so I do not like this one as much and also it is veryyy long for me so that's also why. For this one, it is kind of open-ended and I still have not decided who it's for lol, It could be Thorin, Fili, Kili, or Bilbo. Who knows, even Dwalin or bombur. I lovvve being indecisive. so have a surprise and let me know if you have any requests. Enjoy xx

The water swept over me, my muscles taut with strain, but I felt freer than ever. The water was icy, but it soothed me. Muscle memory taught me to savor the moment from when I jumped in the water to when I clambered back on the boat. A few stray waves hit me, rolling me over a bit. I let them roll me, facing upwards towards the sky. I sighed. Bard would be back soon, and he would want me to help him with whatever he had today. Of course, I was more than willing to help. After all, he is the one that brings me out in these waters and lets me have time to myself. I began to swim to our meeting place, one that we both had memorized. I let my body relax, the tendrils of kelp trying to keep me from going back. I willed myself forward, but to what? More scoffing at my ideas, more remarking on how I am not married yet. But I had to.

The waves began to swell, and I smiled. Bard was here to pick me up. Of course, he did the old trick of pretending to almost run me over. I laughed at his antics, he rarely was ever humorous anymore. I hoisted myself up the side of the boat, sopping wet when I realized that he had company. I looked at Bard, who shrugged.

"Lass, you could have drowned! What are ye doing?" A crowd of what looked like 14 dwarves stood before me. They were all staring incredulously, obviously, they did not expect someone to be swimming in these waters.

"I'm just going for my daily swim of course. Did you actually think Bard was going to hit me? You have so little faith in your ferry it seems." I  wrung out my hair over the side of the boat. My explanation did not seem to suit them, but they dropped the subject fairly quickly.

"Now might I ask, who are you?" a voice said quietly. I looked up and faced a dwarf, no, a hobbit who looked very out of place.

"I am y/n, from Laketown. And who are you? It looks like you are a halfling unless my eyes deceive me," I responded.

He fidgeted a bit. He was obviously very uncomfortable. "Yes yes, that's me. Bilbo Baggins." He scooted back to the other side of the boat. An odd character he seems, out of place. Why was he here? I turned back around, tired from all the swimming. I met the eyes of some of the other dwarves. Two of them had a very mischievous look in them. Some were more somber. But one of them caught my eyes. He looked like he was the leader of all of them, even if he did not say anything. He had that air of authority to his figure. I caught his eye, trying to figure out what these dwarves were doing here, but his face did not give anything I way. I leaned my head back against the boat. Breath in, breath out. Slowly my eyes closed, letting slumber take over my willing body.

--------time change hehe--------

Bard shook me awake, motioning to the barrels that were now filled with fish. How long was I asleep for? I shook the last tendrils of sleep off me, and clumsily grabbed one of the barrels. I poured it onto the deck where Bard was pouring one, and a redheaded dwarf rolled out unceremoniously. I gave Bard a questioning look, but he motioned to stay quiet. Well, a time for everything I suppose.

Once we had poured out all the fish, dwarves included, I was free to go. But, after all, I am a nosy person, so I decided to go with Bard. For some reason we had to sneak the dwarves into his house, were they fugitives of some sort? Well, no matter who they were, they were picky, with everything. The weapons Bard offered were "not good enough". Everything seemed to pass by in a blurry haze. Clearly, I needed more sleep. I noticed one of the dwarves seemed to be in pain, clearly trying to hide it. I ventured a bit closer, but Bard called for me to help him with something.

The night approached quickly, and these dwarves were very somber. I walked up to one of them, the oldest one. "Might I ask what is going on here? Everything that I have ever heard about dwarves is that they are jovial, and I have rarely ever seen anyone this quiet," I spoke quietly, not wanting to draw attention to my confusion.

"Well lass, we are not here to stay, and we are a bit behind schedule. Everyone is just a bit tense, as this is very important for everyone," the dwarf said vaguely. "You're y/n aren't ye."

"Yes, that's me. And who are you?"

"Balin son of Fundin. It is a pleasure to meet you. Now I see you are a bit fiercer than the rest and I would like to know if there is an armory here where we can get weapons from. If you do not wish to help, that is fine. However, I can tell you want adventure. Make up your mind soon." He walked away to get some food, leaving me with my mouth wide open. How could he know? How does he know that I hate this place, that I want to leave on journeys? I would drill him about that later, but for now, I must help them.

I murmured some of the plans to Bilbo, who told Balin. Everyone else came to know, and the minute Bard would leave we would be off. Bard would not be happy with me, but I don't care. It's about high time I had something to do other than sitting around or swimming. I needed an escape. As we were all eating, talking amongst ourselves, I noticed Bard hurriedly whisper something to his son and slip out the door, unnoticed by everyone.

I yawned, "Well I think I will be heading off to bed. It was lovely meeting you all." I met all of their eyes, lingering on some for longer. I still noticed the younger dwarf hiding his pain, but I could do nothing at the moment. I left the house and down the stairs, waiting. After about five minutes I heard grumbling from the rest of the dwarves. I motioned for them to stay quiet and quickly led the way. I showed them the window that they could enter once we reached the armory.

"This is the only way in without alerting guards. Be quiet. If anyone of you makes a noise, it is over. I will leave once you get in unless there is anything else I can help you with," I said hopefully. I still wished to leave this dreadful town.

Thorin, the dwarf in charge, muttered some orders to the rest of them and then turned wearily back to me. "We are in your debt. Thank you for helping us," he said grudgingly, in a deep gravelly voice.

I nodded my head and left them, turning around a corner. I stopped though, for I heard them saying something.

"She would have been of use to us. Clearly, she knows a way out of here and we don't." I heard one of the dwarves arguing. I could not tell which one.

"No, she would only hinder us. She is soft, she has never left this village, she would only be a burden." I heard Thorin say gruffly. He wasn't necessarily wrong, but they underestimated me. I could handle a sword, and I would not hesitate in killing orcs. But if I showed myself, they would all not trust me. So I stayed hidden.

"Uncle you don't know that. Besides, think of what use a human might be. They perceive things in different ways sometimes. There's something about her. She would help us, I know she would." The other dwarf spoke.

Hmmm, which ones were his nephews. I thought the injured one was his only relative, but clearly, I was wrong. The injured one's voice was not as resonant as the one that was speaking. I accidentally shuffled a bit, and their voices grew quieter. I could no longer hear them, but it was nice to know that someone wanted me there. All of a sudden there was a huge crashing of metal and a couple of thumps. I fled the scene, knowing that I could not get caught with them. Everyone already was wary of me, I would hate to make things worse for myself.

I heard the shouting of guards as I ran, far enough away that I knew I wouldn't be caught. The town center, that was where they would be brought. I took some shortcuts, so hopefully, I could see them alright. Everything passed by in my anxiety-induced haze. If they mentioned me at all, I was well, screwed. I vaguely heard Thorin shout something, and everyone cheering, but I was mostly looking at the dwarves' faces and made sure they were alright.

Balin looked a bit concerned, and the youngest one was still trying to hide his pain, but everyone else looked joyous. I smiled looking at them. It was the first time I had seen them in a good mood. One of them looked right at me, he was blonde, and he looked younger. I think he might have been the one talking about me. I waved and he dipped his head in acknowledgment.

Everyone was busy celebrating that they were going to the lonely mountain, but I mostly wanted to check on the hurt dwarf. Kili I think his name is. But before I could reach them, the crowd pressed in. Drinks were brought out and I could barely move without bumping into someone. It got harder to breathe. I began taking quicker breathes, trying to push my way out of the pandemonium. My ears were ringing because it was so loud. Finally, I managed to get out, and I sat against one of the stalls, leaning my head back against it. Footsteps approached me, slowly, and I turned my head.

"They are going to bring doom to us all," Bard said hoarsely. "But all anyone wants is gold. Greedy things we are. It makes me almost sick to watch this. Do you want me to walk you back to your house or are you fine on your own?"

"I think I'll be alright for tonight Bard, thank you though. Goodnight." I replied back.

I closed my eyes for a second, listening to the laughter, beer slopping down the sides of mugs, something I have not heard in a long time. It is odd to miss things like this, especially when you don't realize you miss them. Some more footsteps approached me, but quicker, with a skip to them.

"My Lady," the dwarf said, bowing his head.

I smiled in return. "I am certainly no lady. And remind me, which one are you?"

"Ah, but you look like a lady to me. I am Fili, nephew of Thorin. Why are you sitting down when there are festivities to be had?"

"A gentleman does not ask a lady such questions." I retorted.

He gave a sly chuckle, "I thought you aren't a lady."

I laughed, not expecting this from him. But it was funny nonetheless. "Well, you have me there. Now tell me everything about this quest. I am keen to be on one myself and I would love to hear it all."

So Fili told me everything. Where he was born, why he wanted to go, everything. Obviously, some of the ale he drank was at work, seeming to make him more flamboyant than he usually might be. But it was amusing and laughter ensued.

When the music died down and people began to head home, Fili wrapped up his exaggerated tale.

"It was lovely to meet you Fili. I wish you the best of luck on your quest." I said softly. "Please try not to wake the dragon."

He chucked. "It was lovely to meet you as well y/n."

I waved him farewell and walked back to my house. It was always good to meet new people, especially these dwarves. They seemed like they could be so happy if they tried. Well, it is time to settle in for the night.

[basicjetsetter]

Part III

♡ Pairing: Peter Parker x Black!FemaleReader

▹ Warnings: Mild Language, Small mention of suicide attempt, Start of the Slow Burn

▹ Words: 3.1k

▹ A/N: Get ready for the slowest slow burn of your life.

Peter Parker is your Soulmate.

Peter Parker is also Spider-Man.

Your bewildered brain tries to rapidly absorb this news as he swings you back onto your apartment’s roof and nimbly sets you down on your feet, safely away from the ledge.

Well, that explains all the times he went missing during school trips. Those days are like a distant memory now, but you hazily remember the day Spider-Man rescued your classmates from a collapsing elevator in the Washington Monument. It was all anyone in Midtown talked about for weeks.

The boy-next-door was your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man all this time. Shock lags in your system. For some weird reason, you aren’t that surprised by the sight of Peter in the Spider-Man suit or by the idea of him being an Avenger, and as you stand on this roof mere feet from him, all you're concerned about is what he might possibly say.

Your heart races as you skeptically watch him spin around to face you. 

He rubs a quick, nervous hand against the back of his neck and then, in a split second, pulls off his mask.

Time’s barely touched him, but then again, you long pieced together that your Soulmate must have suffered from the blip. His slightly disheveled hair is still the same chestnut brown, and his cute, boyish features remain intact. The only thing different is his eyes. Nothing extremely drastic changed about them, but even in the dark of night, you spot that they’re somehow more mature than you remember, older in a way that oddly aches a small place in your heart.

All while you scrutinize Peter’s exposed face and apprehensively stare into his eyes, part of you braces for the fireworks to explode and all the stars in the universe to align. This is it, isn’t it? The fated moment your childhood stories preached to be an epically magical experience? Aren’t you supposed to feel something? Anything?

A cricket chirps nearby.

Peter clears his throat, extends a hand to you, and sheepishly says, “Um, h-hi.”

You stare at his hand until it drops down to his side.

“Oh, geez!” he smacks a hand to his forehead. “Sorry, sorry. That was dumb. You probably aren’t thinking about that right now. Are you okay?”

It takes a while to part your lips, and once they’re open, all that comes out is, “Huh?”

“Are—are you okay? You just fell off that ledge over there,” he adds the last part with a gesture to the ledge, as if he’s trying to jog your memory.

You glance at the edge of the roof behind you, then slowly drag your gaze back to him. “Yeah.” Shaking your head, you repeat louder, “Yeah, I’m fine. It was… it was an accident.”

He blows out a relieved breath. “That’s great. Glad I got to you in time cause that would have been a nasty fall.”

You try to hide your flinch, but you’re sure he catches it because he immediately casts his eyes downward, mumbling more apologies while shuffling from one foot to another.

Sobering silence clouds the air around you as the last five minutes replay in your mind. You nearly died. You were seconds away from ending your life. Peter Parker saved you.

Gulping past the enormous lump in your throat, you whisper, “Thank you.”

Both sides of Peter’s mouth quirk up into a soft smile. “You’re welcome.” He pauses for a few beats, appearing to choose his next words carefully, then says, “So… you’re my Soulmate.”

Hearing him speak the words aloud thickens the obstruction in your throat, and all you offer back is an acknowledging nod, which expands Peter’s smile into a grin so bright it trips up your galloping heart.

“I was beginning to think I’d never meet you. I kept, you know, hearing you say my name in my head, so I kinda guessed you were still out there somewhere. Just never thought you’d be in my neighborhood.” He holds out his hand again, and this time you grudgingly shake it. “We had Spanish together, right?”

Once again, you’re stunned into silence. How the hell does Peter even know you? Back in your high school days, you don’t ever remember speaking a word to him, let alone doing something memorable enough for him to know which class you took together. As far as you can recall, Spanish was the only class you shared, and half the time, he was too busy waiting for class to end to notice you.

While you search your memory's repressed files to trace back any time you may have interacted with Peter, he says your name, causing your eyes to flash to his. 

“You know my name?”

“Yeah…” he answers like it’d be strange if he didn’t. “We were in the same class for a while, and you painted that really awesome Starry Night with my friend, Ned.”

Something faintly warm and fluttery pitches around in your chest, but you’re quick to stow away the feeling into a locked box. It’s just a compliment—nothing more, nothing less. He seems like a nice guy and all, but there is clearly nothing between you two. No sparks. No deep gazes. No instant connections. Nothing.

Disappointment stings like a cut in your chest as you hurry over to the ledge and gather up your art supplies. When you turn back around, Peter’s staring at you with disheartened confusion, furrowing his brows.

Words haphazardly spill out of your mouth. “It was nice meeting you, Peter, and um, thanks for saving me, but I gotta go cause I have work early in the morning, and it’s super late—” 

“Wait, wait, wait!” he rushes, marginally lunging forward as you take a few steps toward the exit, hand outstretched to stop you. “I just—can you tell me where you work? Maybe I can come by, and we can, y’know, talk a little bit. Get to know each other?” he ends with a hopeful, lop-sided smile.

The “No, I don’t think that would be a good idea” sits right on the edge of your tongue, armed and ready for dispatch, but Peter’s anxious little smile stalls it in its tracks. Instead, you shockingly find yourself replying, “Hal’s Diner.”

Peter perks up. “Oh, cool. I know that place. It’s got good pie. So… um, guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, trying hard not to kick yourself for giving in so easily. Out of courtesy, you force a small smile onto your lips and say, “Goodnight, Peter.”

He returns your smile ten-fold. “Goodnight.”

As the exit door shuts behind you, you hear the slightest Thwip.

Why couldn’t you just say no?

✦ ✧✦ ✧

Bright and early, you show up at Hal’s Diner thirty-five minutes before you’re scheduled to be there, currently helping Hal prep for the Sunday breakfast crowd. To say your boss was astonished to see you at the front door nearly an hour before opening would be an understatement, but he thankfully didn’t question you.

After everything that transpired last night, from the fall to meeting Peter, the last thing you expected was a restful night’s sleep, but you were zonked the moment your head touched the pillow. For the first time in forever, those words didn’t plague your dreams and your every conscious thought. Your mind is now gloriously quiet.

You finally met your fated person, and now, you can eventually move on.

Except, not really… because Peter thinks it’s necessary to get to know you. Not if you can avoid it.

With that thought looming over your head from the second you woke up, you zoomed through your morning routine and made it out of your apartment in record time. You didn’t really have a game plan or destination in the works when you left, but you knew that your hands and mind needed to be busy to keep the more pressing thought at bay. Hence, your reason for prepping with Hal. At the moment, he’s droning on and on about what a mess last night’s shift turned out to be while you peel potatoes.

“And that new hire, the Dennis kid, screwed up three orders. Three consecutive orders! Two of ‘em from the same couple. If the boy weren’t so good at cleanup, he’d be out the door,” Hal swears, eyeing his inventory list. “Looks like we’re gonna have to stock up on eggs again.”

You hum to show you were listening, but it didn't really matter. Hal could go on like this for days, with or without an audience.

He leans his heavy body against the gigantic industrial refrigerator, then perches his thick-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his bulbous nose. “Alright, now you mind telling me what’s got you here so early?”

“Nothing,” you lie breezily, taking your bowl full of naked potatoes to the sink to rinse them off. The hot water runs freezing cold but gradually warms as you painstakingly rinse the whole surface of every potato, struggling to keep your hands and mind busy. “Just thought I’d be a good employee and help out my boss.”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffs with a laugh, “If that’s true, then there must be pigs flying in Central Park.”

You counter, “Are you insinuating I’m not a good employee?”

“No. Good help like you is hard to come by these days, and everyone in Queens knows I’d be the first in line to praise your workmanship. I’m actually just expressing a nagging concern I have with you notoriously being late and then, in the blink of an eye, turning up here before I can even fit the key in the door. Now, either something’s real wrong or something’s real right. Which one is it?”

Experience with Hal and his prying questions over the last three years taught you how to lie tactfully. Always start with a full lie, then go with a half-truth to throw him off your trail. “I finally got more than four hours of sleep.”

“Great!” Hal beams, clapping his hands together. “Now, why’s that?”

You sigh exasperatedly, “For the love of—Can’t good news just be good news, Hal? Must there be an explanation?”

“Alright, alright. I’ll back off.” He pushes his glasses back up, harrumphing, “Just know that truth is too damn narcissistic to be kept in the dark. It always finds a way to be seen.”

With that, Hal grabs a tattered dishrag and a bottle of cleaning solution off the nearest counter and leaves you in the kitchen, heading out to the dining area to give the booth tables one more wipe down, grumbling about buying new upholstery for the seats.

Try as he might, Hal doesn't have a hope of scaring you into telling him the whole truth. You’re not rolling over that easily. No one in this diner is ever going to find out that you met your Soulmate, and if you’re lucky, it’ll stay a secret until literal pigs are flying in Central Park.

Somehow, someway, you’re going to figure out how to escape whatever this connection is because there must be some cosmic loophole for those who simply don’t want their destiny. There’s no way you’re the only person on this planet who’s ever decided to break from their Soulmate.

If there is any sliver of a connection between you and Peter, he’d understand why you can’t stay. He’d understand, and he’d move on.

You hold onto this hope throughout the rest of the workday. Hal doesn’t badger you again as the diner opens and the Sunday crowd comes bustling in, hungry for syrup-saturated French toast sticks and freshly brewed coffee.

Every time the welcoming bell at the entrance jangled, your eyes fearfully snapped to the door, expecting chestnut hair and a boyishly thousand-watt smile. And every time it wasn’t him, an obnoxious pebble of dismay sank to the pit of your stomach. Between serving customer after customer and watching the door, time slipped away from you, and before you even registered the difference, the warm afternoon sun streamed directly into the diner, and the last ten minutes of your shift approached.

Chris is dragging out a goodbye with a dazzled mother and her teenage son, inadvertently milking more tips out of them with a hilarious story about his favorite ketchup stain on his apron, while Wendy mops over the same black and white tiles for the seventh time, blinking in and out and stifling yawns. You set down two plates of grilled cheeses and steak fries for a young couple, smiling with your plastic smile and brightly telling them to enjoy their meals and to call for you if they need anything else.

As soon as you turn around to check up on the regulars sitting at the stools, the bell jingles, and there in the entrance stands Peter, cheerfully greeted with a perfectly timed, “Welcome to Hal’s, dude!” from Chris.

Your heart stutter-stops, then bursts into a full-on sprint, and before you even understand what you’re doing, you duck down, scurrying behind the bar. Two regulars on the stools, a middle-aged biker nicknamed Spikes and his buddy Garrick, lean over the counter with querying stares. Hastily, you mouth, I’m not here, and they curtly nod in unison, sitting back down.

On the other side of the bar, you hear Chris seat Peter in a booth that sounds dangerously close to your hiding spot, so you squinch down as far as you can go, balling yourself up in a position your knees and back will hate you for later.

“My name’s Chris, and I shall be your server this fine afternoon. Anything I can start you off with…?”

“Peter,” Peter fills in, then answers, “And a slice of Banana Cream Pie would be great.”

You intently listen to the scratch of pen against paper as Chris scribbles down the order. “Sweet, dude. I’ll bring that out to you as soon as possible.”

“Thanks. And, hey, um… does a girl named Y/N work here?”

Your eyes bulge.

“Yeah! Do you want me to get her?” asks Chris helpfully while you internally scream, adding, “I think she might be in the back. Could have sworn she was out here a second ago.”

The best scenario out of this situation would be if Chris miraculously misses your hiding spot, walks into the back and sees you’re not there, then comes back out, missing you again, and informs Peter that you must’ve gone home early. The absolute worst being Chris trips over you and nearly breaks his neck.

By the way things are shaping up, you might as well give yourself away.

“Y’all talking about the little miss with the bun in her hair?” Spikes gruffly interjects. “Cause you just missed her.”

You almost puff out a sigh as relief washes over you like a tidal wave. Spikes has got free burgers and milkshakes coming his way for a month.

“Huh… thought she was here.” Chris stays quiet only for a second, probably questioning the efficacy of his eyesight, before speaking to Peter again. “Sorry about that, man. Still want that pie?”

Just like that, your heart kicks into high gear. Please don’t say yes. Please don’t say yes. Please don’t say yes.

Again, to your utter relief, Peter says, “No, thanks, I actually gotta get going. Mind if I borrow your pen and paper real fast?” You hold in a tense breath as Chris rips off a piece of pad paper and hands it to him. More pen scratches against paper, then Peter speaks up, “Can you make sure this reaches her?”

“Definitely. Have a good rest of your day, and come back anytime, dude.”

You don’t uncoil yourself from behind the bar until the door jingles again and a good five minutes pass. Your muscles and joints achingly cry out from the mistreatment as you warily stand to your full height, and Spikes and Garrick give you a confirmational thumbs-up when you smile at them gratefully.

Chris, spotting you out of the corner of his eye, swivels around and gapes, “Where’d you just come from?”

“The back.” Not entirely a lie.

Chris frowns, “But Spikes just said—”

“I was leaving,” you hurriedly cut in. “But I—I, um, I forgot to…” Your eyes rove around the diner and land on the couple you recently served. You hit your head with your palm in an oops manner and nervously chuckle, “I forgot to give those guys their check. So, I’m just… gonna go and… do that.”

You skirt around Chris’s inquisitively raised eyebrow and head over to the cash register to tabulate the couple’s bill. That was a way too close call. And by the way Chris is still staring at you, it looks as if you’re far from being out of the woods.

Once you hand the couple their check, rush to the back and clock out for the day, and come back out in the dining area to leave, Chris is waiting by the door, holding up the triangled piece of paper Peter left for you.

“Some guy named Peter came by to see you. You know him?” A flash in his eyes dares you to deny it, as if he caught onto your game.

You defiantly square your jaw. “I might. Did he leave that for me?”

“Maybe,” he shrugs, “Wanna tell me who he is?”

“No, I don’t think I will,” you winningly grin as you snatch the paper from his hand.

Chris wears the same winning smile. “Fine, don’t tell me. I’ll ask him when he comes back tomorrow.”

You blanch, “Wh-what—what makes you think he’s coming back tomorrow?”

“All my customers come back. Always,” he promises. Chris never seemed like the type to issue positive threats, but here he is, threatening you with that friendly smile lighting his jovial face.

The promising threat rings in your ears as you walk out the door and head to your apartment. Halfway there, you remember the crumpled piece of paper grasped in your balled-up fist. You move out of the flow of pedestrian traffic, lean against the brick façade of a mini-mart, and unfold the paper.

Peter’s straight-forward scrawl reads: Sorry I missed you. Be back earlier tomorrow :) – Peter P., and at the bottom of the note is a phone number with an arrow pointing to it, saying, My cell #.

A small, itty-bitty smile flits across your lips as your eyes linger on Peter’s smiley face, and for the briefest moment, you’re transported back to the roof, losing your breath all over again as he smiles that innocently beautiful smile.

Avoiding him is going to be tougher than you thought.

...

Part IV

[koushisatori]

Surprise

kuroo x f!reader

genre: birthday fluff

warnings: none

word count: 2.3k

note: I made it !! Happy Birthday to you, Kuroo ! <3 - Also I’ll beta it later when i’m home from university, bc it’s 3 am here, oops x.x

Kuroo wasn’t jealous, really because logically there was no reason to be

You were his girlfriend and you did not mind sudden Hollywood blockbuster worthy kisses when he got a spurt of…possessiveness towards you

He is in no way overbearing or anything, both of you share the opinion that even though you’re a couple you don’t have to be together all the time, spend afternoons with your friends

Then again, you two spend quite a lot of time together, with you being the  Volleyball Clubs manager, always staying behind with your team when they practiced way past the official clubs' training's hours

But sometimes he woke up and felt the need to have you all to himself

On those days a slightly lingering gaze by other would irk him enough to    permanently glue himself to your side or back

Because of the rareness of that situation, you generally give into that specific mood and take him either with you if you had plans or adapt to whatever your handsome boyfriend seemed fit

(usually, it consists of getting snacks from the store to make watching movies more fun after you both finished your homework. And also cuddles. Lots and lots and lots of cuddling and kisses.)

Anyway, normally he’s a super laid back, relaxed, and ‘’the best boyfriend in the world, right, baby?’’

Kuroo was happy with being ‘’a bit (big times) nerdy’’ as kenma liked to remark, liked that things had their reasons and were logically intelligible

Well…he quickly realized that, while emotions were chemically explainable this also was as far as logic was helpful with them

Sooo…there was no reasonable excuse for him to feel that ugly burning in his chest watching you ruffle through Lev’s hair and giggle so cutely

But it was his birthday, and you should be all over HIM because HE was YOUR boyfriend and in general, maybe he had one of those not so great days bc not only did he get stuck in his bedsheets and face planted to the ground first thing in the morning but his breakfast toast also landed with its face on the kitchen floor just after he put away all the things he used

You were…not avoiding him but kind of distant with your thoughts

At lunch, he was telling you something you’d usually find at least funny if not hilarious because your humor was so fantastically similar to his, but all you did was smile lightly

You even whispered with Yaku instead of talking to him !! how dare you

Rest in peace, Kuroo (you will survive one day with a bit less attention of your s/o)

He wasn’t jealous of Lev or thought that you suddenly developed feelings for the younger boy

He was jealous because that tall child hoarded all of your attention, while you had looked at him maybe twice, three times tops, in the last hour

‘’Kuroo.’’ To the untrained ear the small setters voice as passive as usual. Kuroo though is able to easily distinguish the various different layers of Kozume Kenma’s very real, emotional bandwidth. The captain did hear Kenma and his questioning as well as slightly worried tone, he simply chooses to not react in favor of shooting (barely) decently hidden death glares at the to-tall-for-his-own-good-boy. 

‘’Kuroo.’’ The slight change in his childhood friend's voice was enough for the black-haired player to grudgingly turn away from you and Lev to look at Kenma.

‘’Yes.’’ Tetsurou huffs out, giving his best to not sound like a petulant child. ‘’You’re so dumb.’’ Kenma said dryly, definitely analyzing him. The questioning sound leaving Kuroo was close to embarrassing, a quick cough and back straightening later, he adds ‘’You wound me. Right here.’’ While pressing his hand flat against his chest. ‘’Where’s my understanding childhood friend to put balm on my hurting heart by sharing emotionally charged, empathic words with me?’’

Instead of offering the desired words, the smaller boy rolls his eyes before he averts them to his hand-held gaming console. ’’Can you put that thing away, we’re at practice Kenma.’’ Kuroo all but unintentionally whined. 

Everything was stressing him out today. Usually, his childhood friend at least stuck to the general rule of not using it outside the breaks. But obviously, there was a plot against him going on with the goal to annoy him more than usual because, of course, why not doing it on his damn birthday. Nice friends and their nice presents.

Just like Kuroo did mere minutes before, Kenma decided to simply…ignore his request half voiced as some kind of instruction. Well…things didn’t work like they were supposed to, he didn’t feel like arguing with his friend so he let him be for now. Rather than that, he turned back to you and Lev, who – for once – seemed eager to train his digging and passing game because you threw the volleyball for him to dive after.

‘’Where in freaking hell is Yaku…’’ Kuroo muttered grumpily, before repeating louder ‘’Yaku! Why am I the only third…Noboyuki!’’These definitely aren’t my friends, he thought while finally giving in to his deepest desire of ripping you away from the grey-haired future wannabe ace. 

‘’You truly are dense when it comes to (Y/N),’’ Kenma says, moving away towards the benches, before swerving around them to leave for the clubroom. ‘’The definition of tunnel vision.’’

The thing is, Kuroo heard Kenma say it, but his brain refused to acknowledge them, too focused on finally being in the spotlight of your focus.

 Meanwhile, you were watching your dark-haired boyfriend closer than he realized. You carried the whole plan. Or rather your ability to make him lose focus on anything that isn’t you, with just the right amount of addressing the slight possessive side of his and deprivation of your attention.

Even though all of this was just so the others could fulfill their part of the plan, you hate how it led him to mope around the whole day. It was so hard to not laugh about his stupid science joke at lunch and overall, not tell him all day how glad you were that he was born. This is his special day, why wouldn’t you tell him how much you loved his presence and his annoyingly attractive smirk? If not for the others and them begging and bribing you, you would smooch his kissable cheeks, nose, forehead, and lips all day long to honor this special date.

You are an amazing and emphatic girlfriend, so…of course, you realize that his mood in general is rather on the bad side today. He wants you close and to himself, and you did the complete opposite! Tetsurou would absolutely give you an ear full later when he finally understood the whole plan.

Nonetheless, it is kind of cute how he tried to hide that he was sulking. Your big baby of a boyfriend was currently trying to kill poor Lev with his gaze alone, staring holes into the back of his head all the while directing puppy dog eyes at you to relent and come over.

Usually, your Tetsurou was the perfect team captain. Attentive, clever, strategical, and just the right amount of authoritarian and approachable. But with his mind stuck on questioning why you were being weird to him on his birthday, he had yet to realize that through the whole time of today’s practice all of his teammates inexplicably went missing for about 15 minutes before they either sneaked back in (the first years and some of the second years) or openly announced a little too detailed information on how, for example, the bathroom visit has been absolutely necessary and could not be postponed.

The only problem: Lev wasn’t allowed to know of the plan until a second beforehand to not accidentally spoil the surprise out of pure excitement to surprise his Kuroo-senpai.

When you see your better half starting to approach the two of you, yelling for his vice-captain and the libero simultaneously, you whisper ‘’Lev, when I say now, you have to start running okay and call for Yaku. Ask him to practice your receives as loud as you can, and take off over to the clubroom as fast as possible, alright? Also, please don’t fall, we don’t need a bloody and broken nose, Tetsu is pissed enough already. Please do it for me, okay?’’ It was a bit unfair of you to look at him hopefully like that, but as the team manager, you posessed a certain power none of the other third years had over the younger players.

Just a moment before Kuroo got the chance to grab the clueless middle blockers shirt collar, you voice out a hushed ‘’Now!’’. You immediately look up innocently to your boyfriend and finally put the warm smile on your lips that wanted to sit there since your eyes fell on him the first time this morning. ‘’Tetsu...is everything okay?’’ - ‘’Yaku-senpai, please help me with my receives!’’

‘’Lev never asks for receiving practice...’’ is…not the thing you wanted your boyfriend to say. Panicking that he might find out now, still a bit too early, you do the only thing that you know WILL take his mind off of it. You cup his cheek with your hands and pull him down to press your lips against his. 

His reaction was immediate, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you so close to him that not even a feather would fit between the two of you. Getting into the spontaneous moment, you happily loop your arms around his neck, smiling softly into the kiss. 

Yeah...you definitely had missed that.

When you break apart, he pecks your lips a few additional times for good measure before he bends down even more to bury his face in your neck, enjoying how your fingers softly stroke through and play with his hair, in all the right ways, helping him to relax for the first time in hours. ‘’Baby,…’’ he murmurs against your skin ‘’…no one is training the way they should, let’s just ditch practice. We get a cake from the bakery down the street and eat it in bed, okay?’’

For the second time today, you feel bad. Your boyfriend's voice sounds tired and that was not how a birthday boy was supposed to sound. With his face in your neck, you were able though to watch the entrance. They should come in any second now. You feel tempted to give into Tetsurou’s wishes.

Can they hurry up?! 

The thought desperately shoots through your head, because even though he was currently not paying attention to anything but recharging and breathing you in, Kuroo is way too perceptive to not get behind the ruckus going on in the gym the whole afternoon.

‘’We can cuddle later, Tetsu, I promise my whole afternoon is all for you. If you want I can even sleep over.’’ Your soothing words made his invisible cat ears prick up and listen interested. You knew that, from the moment you both enter the comfort of his home, he would drape himself over you for permanent, never-ending cuddles. The only reason for him to let go of you - unwillingly so - will be you whining about having to use the bathroom. For everything else, you would have to carry a (nearly) dead weight of the size and weight of your boyfriend everywhere.

‘’I haven’t heard Tora for a while now….’’ The raven-haired middle blocker mumbles, and your heart picks up some speed again.

Looking for words you stammer some intangible syllables, which lead Kuroo to look up, suspicion swirling in his hazel eyes. ‘’Baby…what’s wrong?’’ he asks, cocking his head to the side, watching you like a cat its prey. Quickly waving your hands in front of you, you hastily answer a ‘’Nothing.’’ And try to smile away the panic.

Before he got the chance to repeat his question and pry it out of you, the gym darkens, and you breathe out a sigh of relief. Just on time. With the door opening a little source of light illuminates his teammate's faces with his closest friends at the front. Yaku holding a cake stabbed with 18 sparklers, and Nobuyuki holding an unholy amount of the ugliest birthday ballons you had ever seen. All of them together slaughtering the happy birthday song in such a passionate manner, that you could see yourself being able to forgive them the torture they put you through in the near future. 

‘’Come one, birthday boy.’’ You say with a loving smile, and grab his hand to pull him to the rest of the group.

The moment the lights flicker back on and everyone is cheering out loud one last time. You realize belated that Kuroo (intended) and you (unintended) were besieged with confetti and glitter. (You, until this day, suspect Yamamoto who looked a bit too innocent for your taste.)

‘’All of that…for me?’’ Kuroo questions, his gorgeous eyes shining tell telling in the remaining light of the sparkles. Following his words, Kenma takes a small step forward quickly handing over a small book – filled with birthday wishes, pictures that were taken with each and all of them, inside jokes and doodles - just to move out of the spotlight again as quickly as he jumped into it. ‘’Surprise, Tetsu.’’ You say with a sweet smile, that makes him move closer to you to gift himself a taste of your lips.

Before things get to turn mushy and emotional, a chant of Cake! Cake! Cake! – started by Lev and Tora, joined by everyone, disrupts the moment the two of you had.

‘’Okay, okay! I hear the will of the people, I’ll submit to it!’’ Kuroo gives in laughing. ‘’But…’’ a theatrical moment of silence ‘’I want to cut the cake with (Y/N) together!’’ Your boyfriend proudly announces, and, to his delight, you blush furiously. Yakus laughing remark of ‘’Oi, Kuroo, this is not your wedding, you know!’’ was followed by various joking wolf whistles and some hollering. You didn’t know how you ended up being in the center of attention together with him, but when Tetsuro easily replies ’’Well, I need to perfect this skill it for the real ceremony after party one day.’’ You knew that you wouldn’t want to be somewhere else.

[leopard-mask]

we’re not alone

Dovewing and Jayfeather confront Lionblaze about not being the saviors anymore. Set in the midst of Darkness Within.

“Lionblaze.”

Lionblaze, who’d been rising stiffly from the roots of the great oak to dutifully follow Squirrelflight at the head of their patrol, glanced irritably at the gray she-cat at his side. Dovewing’s green eyes were round and dark with worry—he hated that he could still recognize that expression in her.

“What?” he didn’t even make an attempt to soften his voice. “Tigerstar must be waiting for you. If you’ve got something to say, spit it out.”

Dovewing’s fur ruffled and her gaze flashed with annoyance. “I always thought Jayfeather was the rude one, not you.”

“What about me?” When had Jayfeather sidled up to them? Lionblaze lashed his tail impatiently. He should already be at Squirrelflight’s side, reinforcing his authority among the rest of the Clan who thought he was unworthy of the position.

“Hi, Dovewing,” Jayfeather continued conversationally, as if the entire state of literally everything wasn’t on the line right now. Which only solidified the resentment Lionblaze had been feeling towards his brother recently.

Lionblaze thought back on the events of the impromptu gathering. Rootspring’s patrol had left a few days ago to find the Sisters, so there was nothing new to speak of. The meeting had just consisted of everyone arguing about what to do about Bramblestar’s body—more so, Lionblaze trying to rally everyone in support of just killing Ashfur now to be done with it. Really, of all cats Lionblaze had thought Jayfeather would understand the importance of killing Ashfur. He was a medicine cat, his priorities should be centered around nothing but bringing StarClan back right now, no matter the cost. Not just that, but both his and Lionblaze’s world had been shattered twice by Ashfur. Once when the secret had been revealed, and the second time with Hollyleaf…

And yet Jayfeather had said nothing when Lionblaze had argued with Squirrelflight at the gathering just now.

And Dovewing…

“Hi, Jayfeather.”

Lionblaze shifted impatiently. “What is this, a reunion? The gathering is over. If you wanted to talk to us, you should’ve done so before the meeting.” Or maybe any other time, before all of this was even a problem. It had been moons since Dovewing had approached either of them. Why was she suddenly interested in talking?

Dovewing rolled her eyes. “Are you in such a rush to go home?” she flicked her tail in Squirrelflight’s direction, who was exchanging heated words with Tigerstar while Alderheart and Puddleshine paced anxiously nearby. Even Leafstar and her warriors were still lingering; the SkyClan leader hanging back politely but obviously eavesdropping on the argument. “It looks like we might have a bit yet.”

Lionblaze scowled. “I’m the deputy now. If there’s a problem over there, I better go see—”

“Squirrelflight can handle herself,” Jayfeather interrupted firmly. “Besides, I’m not sure she would want your help right now, anyway.”

Lionblaze narrowed his eyes. “What? Because I’m willing to admit Bramblestar isn’t coming back? She needs to understand that her actions are—”

“Would you stop being so antagonistic,” Dovewing scolded. “Just listen to us for a moment.”

Lionblaze dug his claws into the earth, willing StarClan (or what was left of it) give him the patience to finish this conversation. “And why should I listen to you? You’re not taking this seriously,” he gestured accusatorily at his brother. Even though Jayfeather was blind, Lionblaze trusted he could sense the harsh words were for him. He turned to Dovewing. “And you’re a traitor.”

Dovewing reeled back as if his words had physically clawed her. Lionblaze didn’t even have it in him to feel bad. “Lionblaze,” she hissed, though her voice trembled and died before she could say anything more.

Good, Lionblaze thought savagely.

Jayfeather blinked, aggravatingly calm in the face of Lionblaze’s fury. “Have you thought that it’s possible you’re the one being unreasonable?”

“I’m—”

Jayfeather continued, ignoring Lionblaze’s cry of outrage. “Ever since we found out who’s been possessing Bramblestar, you’ve been impossible to be around.” His whiskers twitched disapprovingly. “If you were anyone else, I might’ve assumed it was because you were overworking yourself as acting deputy, but it’s you, so.” He shrugged. “You could never really overwork yourself, could you?”

Lionblaze let out a hiss. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Dovewing blinked hard, her eyes refocusing on her former mentor. “I know this is a serious situation,” her voice was soft. “But we need to come together more than we need to be driven apart. Fighting with everyone isn’t the right thing to do. Not right now.”

“What do you know?” Lionblaze scoffed. “Ashfur was dead before you were even born. You’ve never even met him. I’m the one being sensible—”

Jayfeather snorted. “Lionblaze, I’m saying this in the kindest way possible. Between me and you, you are not the sensible one.”

“I—”

“I know Ashfur upsets you personally,” Jayfeather interrupted once again. “You don’t think I’m upset about this too?”

“You’re upset about everything all the time,” Lionblaze pointed out.

Jayfeather rolled his eyes but did not deny the statement.

Dovewing sighed. “It’s just… You’re the deputy for now, you should be making sure there is as little conflict as possible. Maybe try to have a little more compassion for Squirrelflight and the rest of us who think killing Bramblestar isn’t the right thing to do. No more bullying either,” she added reproachfully. “You don’t want to start down the path of hurting others in your own anger and arrogance.”

Start down that path? Lionblaze flicked his tail and turned away. He’d been hurting cats in his anger since he was an apprentice. That was his prophecy-given power, for StarClan’s sake!

“I will not hesitate to restrict you to camp,” Jayfeather warned. Lionblaze tensed, but Jayfeather continued. “Which I can do, by the way.” He shifted, resting his tail on Dovewing’s shoulder. “Dovewing’s right. Things are rough right now, but it won’t do anything to intentionally divide the Clan the way you’ve been doing lately.”

“We don’t have our powers anymore,” Dovewing said quietly. “We are no more in control of the situation than anyone else.” The words churned in Lionblaze’s stomach. They were once prophesized to save the Clans, but their powers had faded after what had seemed like the final huge threat had passed. It was hard to acknowledge that he was just as powerless as everyone else in the face of this new/old monster.

“We should work harder to make up for it, then,” Lionblaze argued gruffly. He was sure that was one of the main reasons Squirrelflight had chosen him for deputy—he’d helped save them before, and surely she expected him to play a part in doing so again. Surely everyone was looking up to them for guidance. Couldn’t Dovewing and Jayfeather see that?

Dovewing stepped closer and forced him to hold her gaze. “This isn’t our fight alone, and no one expects it to be. And that’s what we wanted, right? We would’ve been grateful for this all those moons ago. We’ll get through this by working together. All of us.”

Lionblaze finally let the tension in his shoulders drop. He slumped miserably into himself, staring down at the grass. “What if we don’t? We can’t let Ashfur win this time, not after everything we’ve sacrificed to bring him down in the first place.”

“It’s not in our paws,” Jayfeather said simply. “We’ll wait for the Sisters, and then we’ll all decide what to do. In the meantime, we just get through each day at a time.”

Dovewing dipped her head. “I won’t say it’s okay, because it isn’t. But from now on we do better, right?”

Lionblaze sighed. “You’re right,” he admitted grudgingly. He glanced awkwardly at Dovewing. “I’m sorry I called you a traitor.”

Lionblaze nodded decisively. “Right.”

“And apologize to Squirrelflight,” Jayfeather added.

“…Right,” Lionblaze reluctantly agreed. He did feel bad for hurting his foster mother in the way that he had. An apology would be the least he could offer to smooth things over.

This isn’t our fight—this isn’t my fight. We’re not alone in this. If he was honest with himself, the thought was almost liberating. We’re not alone.

[voidstilesplease]

in another life

part two

Stiles assures Theo answers for all of their questions -god knows they have so many- tomorrow. Theo's reluctant at first, doesn't intend to let go of Stiles's words hanging in between them: "You think she's alive?" Eventually, Theo nods, finding something in Stiles's eyes and placing his trust in him. An odd feeling of protectiveness settles in Stiles's stomach at the vulnerability that Theo freely displays - in the past, he used to act guarded like everyone was out to get him. Granted, Theo had conned most of them before with charm and fake tears, and it's not above him to try it again if Theo could gain something worthy from it. But Stiles doesn't feel the usual tingle in his bones when he meets some shady criminal mastermind. His instincts have gotten him this far, so he gives it credit.

Stiles sighs. Innocent until proven guilty. He hopes Deaton has answers that expose the truth.

In the meantime, they have saddled him with more responsibility: bringing Theo home with him. Theo refuses to be stuck with either Liam or Mason any longer, it is unwise to put Theo alone with Melissa, and stupid to leave him unattended. So Stiles is the only viable choice. Plus, Theo thinks they're together. It only makes sense. Maybe.

It probably won't to his dad initially, but hey, after a while of normalcy, even he will acknowledge the need for something to go down - even dressed as Theo Raeken.

•••

They're in Stiles's Jeep, driving home to the Stilinski's, and it is a little disconcerting how Theo seems to be accustomed to his car. Theo had seen and been in the Jeep before, but this is different. He's too comfortable in the cramped space, even knows how to operate Stiles's defective radio. And the way he leans against the seat on the passenger's side and knows where to keep the screwdriver Stiles uses to manipulate the ignition is boggling his head worse than the snow outside.

Stiles draws in a breath, glancing sideways to his quiet company. "So, um, Deaton," he says, "we're going to Dr. Deaton tomorrow."

Theo turns to him, frowning. "What kind of doctor? Are you taking me to a shrink? Babe, I'm not crazy. What happened is freaky, but you have to believe me."

Okay, the babe thing, they're going to have to iron that wrinkle as soon as possible. Not even Lydia called him babe when they dated, and certainly not Malia. It's a cosmic joke that the once bane of his existence gets to call him that first. "No, he's not a shrink," Stiles promises him. "He's a veterinarian. But he knows about these things."

Theo arches a brow, "He knows about teleportation?"

"Telepor-" Stiles creases his forehead, jerking his head to Theo. The latter is expectant when he looks back. Stiles blinks, disbelieving and a little horrified. There's also a small bubble of hysteria beginning to form in his stomach. Somehow, this takes the cake in the weirdness of the situation. Because, of course, Theo also doesn't remember he's a chimera, does he? Blowing a heavy breath, he turns back to the road. He rubs the side of his temple, where it's starting to hurt, and purses his lips. "Yeah, sure. Teleportation."

Silence hangs in between them for a moment, Stiles sighing when he takes the last turn to his street. He can feel the burn of Theo's stare at the side of his face.

"You really don't remember we're together?" Theo sounds genuinely small when he speaks. "Then why are you here, if not to take me home? The two -Liam and Mason- are accusing me of having amnesia. But it's you who can't remember."

Stiles opens his mouth, but he doesn't know what to say. He knows that if he tells Theo that he remembers an illusory life, it's only going to invite more questions Stiles has no answers yet. In honesty, he's still reeling until now, and he's too tired to consider diving into research mode immediately, much less form a cohesive plan other than to bring Theo to Deaton first. And the best thing for them both to do before then is rest. They can't do that if Stiles stays up all night convincing Theo that they're not even friends, that he was a lying, conniving chimera asshole that tried to break his pack once, before turning a new leaf and helping them, and then disappearing on them like a bubble one day. Oh, and yeah, that it's so twisted for him to think his sister was alive when he had allowed her to die when he was nine.

No. Rest, Deaton, and then fuck up some shit - Stiles is doing this in that order.

"Hm," is what he ends up saying. Stiles pulls in the driveway, noting the blue truck already parked there. He's relieved to find a change of topic. He clears his throat, pointing at the vehicle. "That's your truck. Corey, Mason's boyfriend, drove it here."

Theo doesn't look away from him for the entire minute it takes Stiles to turn the engine off and gather his belongings. When he looks at Theo, that's only when the other man lowers his head and breathes. Theo nods and gets out of the car, moving towards the truck. Stiles silently prays for more strength if this is how awkward it is going to be for the whole evening until the morning.

Theo is studying his blue truck, eyeing it with trepidation. Stiles slings his messenger bag and stands beside him. Theo turns to him, shaking his head. "This isn't my car."

Stiles moves to the bed of Theo's pickup. "It is," he tells Theo. 

Stiles is, unfortunately, familiar enough with this car, and not with pleasant memories. Stiles lifts the haphazardly strewn cloth covering most of the space of the truck bed and makes a noise of disgust with what he finds underneath. It was definitely tidier before.

Theo also peeks under the cloth and pulls his face in a similar reaction. An alarming amount of empty plastic noodle cups and take-out boxes litter the covered area. "It can't be mine because I'm not crazy for instant ramen."

Stiles drops the cloth and walks to the driver's seat. He cups his hands on either side of his eyes and looks inside through the window. He finds a folded blanket at the backseat and a pink sweater on top of the pile of clothes. The chimera wore the hell out of those, Stiles remembers grudgingly. Transferring his scrutiny on the passenger side, he sees empty water bottles and coke cans, and old receipts. What the hell has Theo been up to that he can't even throw his trash out or attempt to be less sloppy?

One thing is sure, though. The car is where Theo lives; the pizza in the backseat looks stale but not molded. He faces Theo and gives him a grim nod, "Let's discuss the condition of your car and your unhealthy lifestyle tomorrow, yeah?"

Theo huffs, wanting to protest and eyeing his car in disgust, but shrugs in agreement.

•••

His father is working the night shift, so explaining Theo is a problem for future Stiles, which makes him sag in relief under the hot spray of his shower. When he's finished, he changes into clean sweatpants and an old Christmas ugly sweater and goes back to his room.

Theo is already sitting on his temporary bed on the floor. Stiles refuses to make him sleep on the couch where the kitchen and knives are near. At least, inside his room, he can fight him should Theo attempt anything at all. Stiles has gotten better at hand-to-hand combat since the FBI, and also a very light sleeper and sometimes prone to insomnia, especially on stressful occasions like this. Any minor shuffling from Theo will alert him. Not that he thinks Theo will do anything. His impulses tell him that Theo's memory dilemma is not made-up, and he's truthful this time, but it's always better to be safe than sorry.

Theo looks up when he enters, offering a small smile. Stiles's eyes catch sight of the outline of a necklace hidden underneath the collar of Theo's borrowed shirt. Stiles's clothes look a bit tight on him but otherwise, more comfortable than the dirty jeans he was wearing earlier. 

"It's so weird to see your old bed," Theo says, looking at the said bed. "Noah brought you a bigger one so that we can share when we visit. I wonder what happened to it?"

Stiles drops onto his bed with a small bounce. He didn't expect that. "Oh, um,"

Theo meets his eyes, "And Roscoe," a shadow crosses his face. "You took down all of the polaroid pictures we put of us. You even replaced the screwdriver that I gave you with an old one."

He sounds so betrayed that Stiles is stunned by what he's hearing. What startles him most, though, is: "You know my Jeep's name?"

At this question, Theo looks downright affronted. But Stiles has every reason to be surprised. His mom, his dad, and Scott are the only people apart from him who knows his Jeep's name -not another soul. Not even Lydia.

"Of course, I know your Jeep's name," Theo responds with a deepening scowl. "We've been together for four years, Stiles."

Stiles raises a hand to halt Theo as his cogs turn in his head. A swell of panic takes root in him. This memory thing is more serious than he initially thought. Theo's not only hallucinating a different life but he also somehow knows things he shouldn't. The screwdriver compartment, his broken radio, his Jeep's name -what else does he know that he isn't supposed to?

"Okay," Stiles finally says, lowering his hand and barrier from Theo, who's still glowering. It seems he has lost his patience with Stiles, as well. If this continues, Stiles might snap, too. So he says as appeasing as he could. "Let's say that whatever happened to you affected our memories of each other. But we'll go to Dr. Deaton for answers tomorrow, and then we can go back to our normal lives. Yes? Do you trust me?"

As soon as he says it, Stiles wants to take it back. It seems like a strange concept to ask Theo, of all people, to trust Stiles after everything. As crazy as Stiles actually trusting Theo. But here they are.

Theo doesn't reply for a long time, but he looks pensive and considering as he glares. In the end, he huffs in surrender, shoulders drooping in defeat. For the first time, the bags under his eyes become more prominent in his features. He looks so weary, hurt, and confused. Stiles is well acquainted with that look. It's the look of someone who hasn't been sleeping well. With the state of Theo's truck, Stiles has no problem picturing the man twist-and-turning to find a good position and not finding any.

Theo dips his head, replying with a rough voice, "Yeah. I trust you."

Before Stiles can say any more, Theo gives him his back and reclines on his mattress. He pulls the covers on himself, like a shield, and mumbles good night to Stiles.

Sighing, Stiles turns the desk lamp off and lays on his bed, staring at the ceiling for who knows how long. After a while, he exhales and rubs the bridge of his nose. His body is exhausted, and so is his mind, but they're not shutting off like they're supposed to. He almost wishes he is back in his dorm room in Virginia, staying up to piece the puzzles of a case. He has dealt with mundane human crises for so long that coaxing the supernatural mojo back appears to be an impossibly draining affair.

When he glances back at Theo on the floor, he pauses as he notices it. There's a blank inked mark on Theo's nape: a tattoo that Stiles knows for sure he didn't have the last time they saw each other. He turns to his side to look closely at it.

The tattoo is of a circle interlaced with three interconnected ovals. It reminds him closely of Derek's triskelion tattoo. But unlike Derek's, Theo's mark gives him an ominous feeling.

Because Stiles is sure, it isn't an optical illusion when it glowed in the darkness of his room for a second.

~•~

[akielonsummer]

Mortal Errors

This is only loosely based on the Blade Runner universe and can be treated as a generic sci-fi AU. If you’re not familiar with Blade Runner, you only need to know that: Replicants = Bioengineered androids that look exactly like humans, but sometimes certain qualities can be enhanced to serve different purposes. Blade runners = Bounty hunters whose job is to track down and kill (retire) rogue replicants. Technically belong to the police department.

Give this a chance please? :* (I’ve also posted it on AO3 if you prefer to read it there)

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By 9pm, Damen was positive he got stood up by his informer who was supposed to rendezvous with him in this night club an hour ago. It was pouring outside, and he was overworked and exhausted, stuck in this raucous and filthy place without a lead or an umbrella.

If he would be completely honest with himself, like he usually was, he would acknowledge that there was another reason for still sitting here other than reluctance to get soaked in the rain on the way back.

The blond man sitting across from him at the large oval-shaped bar had just politely refused the second drink a bulky male stranger was trying to buy him. From afar he could see that the blond wore a high-neck black top that was possibly an effort to keep a low profile, but only served to highlight the slim lines of his shoulders and chest even more. Damen could see why the other man was willing to try so hard. The moment Damen had noticed him, he had been sure he’d been looking at the prettiest face in the entire club tonight.

The big guy was persistent, shameless enough to linger around, still trying to chat up his target. Damen unselfconsciously began studying the blond man’s demeanor, the way he eluded the other person’s gaze and carefully positioned his body. All of Damen’s detective instincts were telling him that the blond was utterly annoyed by the other man’s presence, but would prefer to keep things civil. He was waiting for a specific person in that spot, and therefore could not easily retreat to a less noticeable corner to escape all the attention he was attracting. You would have to be very unobservant not to notice that several other pairs of eyes nearby were preying on him likewise, impatiently waiting for the next chance.

Damen made himself look away, drank some of his beer, and reminded himself of his purpose of coming here.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Damen heard himself say casually as he appeared on the vacant side of the blond man. Inwardly, he cursed himself for giving in to his own curiosity.

And vanity. This had always been his favorite part on a night out.

Getting the beautiful, but difficult ones, while others watch.

“Hey,” the blond looked up, and quietly eyed him once before he continued, “I was beginning to worry that you might have been blown away by the thunderstorm.”

“Looks like you took the underground streets,” he raised a hand to feel Damen’s curls, which were dry. If he was surprised by Damen’s sudden approach, he didn’t let his reactions give away any of it.

Up close, Damen saw that he wore a small dangling earring in a starburst shape, the gold just a shade deeper than his hair. This place had an awful diffused pale purple lighting that made almost everyone at least a bit sickly, and he looked absolutely gorgeous.

He turned his face to the other side to send off the big guy with a final “Excuse us”, then turned back to stare at Damen. The corners of his mouth lifted to form a conspiratorial smile that disappeared too quickly, but at least he didn’t look like he wanted Damen to be gone immediately.

“That was smooth,” he waited until the man was out of earshot to say, “I’m Laurent.”

“Damen,” Damen replied as he felt the deep blue gaze from those almond-shaped eyes do funny things to his stomach. Something deep inside him whispered danger. He promptly dismissed the alert, and went on, “Why didn’t you just tell him to get lost?”

“I didn’t want to start anything. I’m waiting for somebody,” said Laurent, then after a brief pause, “—was waiting.”

Laurent shrugged and gave a wry smile. Damen was pleased with this answer because it both validated his earlier theory and broadened the range of possible things that could happen tonight.

“That makes two of us,” and so he advanced.

“Let me guess,” said Laurent, humming as he sucked on the olive of his martini, then licked the drops of alcohol trickling down his fingers, “it’s a woman.”

“Someone who was supposed to bring me good news tonight.”

“That’s frustrating. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Apparently I’ve found something better to do here,” said Damen. He started to wave the bartender over to buy both of them drinks as a man in a terrible, flashy silver jacket got close to Laurent from behind. It was hard to tell at that moment whether he was too drunk to see Damen or simply audacious—it could be both, because he was bold enough to place his hand on the side of Laurent’s waist and was beginning to lean in to mumble some drunken nonsense in his ear.

It was happening fast, but Damen’s reaction was faster. He slapped off the stranger’s hand and as the man tardily became aware of the situation and glowered at him, warned with a low but clear “No”. The man took two seconds to evaluate the physical difference between himself and Damen, and wandered off grudgingly.

Laurent considered him briefly and let out a poorly stifled snicker.

“What,” Damen snapped, not entirely in an unamused fashion. He was aware that his hand had replaced the other man’s to linger around the smalls of Laurent’s back, and decided to keep it there.

“When I first saw you over there earlier, I thought there’s no way you’d be into men,” Laurent said with a slightly bashful expression, lowering his gaze on the bar table. Damen felt a surge of satisfaction upon hearing his honest confession. He was ready to respond with something nice and clever until Laurent looked up again and finished, “or you should at least prefer real boys.”

Laurent kept his meek, picture-perfect smile as he waited for the meaning of his words to sink in.

“You’re a replicant,” attempted Damen, a part of him still reluctantly trying to make sense of the now-conspicuous truth.

“And you, a blade runner,” Laurent enunciated each syllable as he held Damen’s gaze unwaveringly. In that instant, Damen could see from an angle a flash of a curious reflection at the center of his blue eyes. A sharp, contrasting color. Of warning, and of blood. Laurent blinked once, and it was gone.

“How—” Damen began, and was immediately interrupted by the huge noise of a brawl that had just broken out behind them at one of the VIP tables.

“Just before you came over, I was telling big guy that the people I knew at that table had some extra pills they’d gotten as samples from a supplier, and that they were happy to share,” said Laurent matter-of-factly as he got up from the bar stool and began putting on his black leather jacket.

Damen turned to look, and saw that the first man he had warded off from Laurent was now deep in a fist fight with two of the men in black suits from that table.

“You don’t know any of those guys,” said Damen, a bit awestruck by now.

“No,” answered Laurent. He popped one last piece of peanut in his mouth and started for the exit. “We should go now.”

-

Thirty minutes later, they were both sitting in the couch in Damen’s living room, sipping whisky from heavy-bottomed glasses with a rain-drenched towel draped around the neck.

“You’ve been laughing for the past fifteen minutes. Get over it,” Damen said sourly when he saw that Laurent was still smirking around the rim of his glass.

Their escape had not been completely free of obstacles. They had intended to sneak out through the less noticeable side exit of the club, until they had realized there’d been simply no way not to get noticed when you were moving with someone of Damen’s stature. With the brawling in the VIP area escalating in the background, the bouncers had become more vigilant with people getting in and out of the place.

It’d appeared that Laurent had gotten through the control at the exit without a hint of effort but just by being himself—a seemingly harmless young man with the face of an angel—while Damen was inevitably stopped, by not one, but two of the most intimidating-looking bouncers guarding the exit. They had padded him down scrupulously and proceeded to ask questions to make sure he’d had nothing to do with the rows in the club. Perhaps more out of curiosity than necessity, before they had let him go, one of them had asked what he’d been doing for a living.

“‘Same as you. I work at a club uptown.’” Laurent repeated his response in a way that was more a derisive reenactment than an honest impression, then added for accuracy, “‘a small one.’”

Damen rolled his eyes in disapproval and sought to detach himself from this conversation by refilling his glass with the bronze-colored liquid.

“And now, to answer the question you’ve been waiting to ask,” said Laurent, gradually dropping the amusement in his tone and replacing it with his default placid composure, “I knew you’re a blade runner because I know someone who wears a device like that too.”

He pointed at the black wristband on Damen’s left wrist.

It was a location tracker that would have been concealed more carefully with clothing when he was on an active assignment. Anybody who shared his job title would get one on the first day they reported for duty so that their superiors could track their locations real-time, to make rescue or body retrieval easier. Unsurprisingly, hunting down rogue androids meant putting yourself on a knife edge too, quite literally.

“You’ve chosen a tough job,” Laurent continued when Damen said nothing. “Someone’s got to do it, I guess.”

He sounded like he was talking about the work of a butcher or an undertaker, which was not that far from the truth.

Despite their dramatic encounter with each other, Laurent didn’t seem like he had anything against Damen’s kind. In fact, he had just mentioned that he personally knew another blade runner. He must be a registered new model if he was able to roam the city freely, perhaps the vocational type, even. It was not uncommon to see new generation replicants that were indifferent to the nature of a blade runner’s job. After all, they only retired the obsolete rogue models who posed potential threats to society, and most of these fugitive replicants lived in underground communities that were completely segregated from the legal models.

“I didn’t,” said Damen, at last.

Laurent gave an inquisitive glance.

“I didn’t choose it.”

And that was all he was willing to say about why he had fallen to the current point of his career. Realizing he had brought the conversation to a cul-de-sac, he tried for a different direction of the topic, “it’s neither pleasant nor glorious, indeed. But I try my best to make it quick, at least.”

“Quick and painless. They won’t even feel a thing,” Laurent mused. There was a subtle edge in his voice that disturbed the relative ease of Damen.

“We use a special type of taser,” said Damen, because he felt that the word “gun” might just sound a little too strong. “It takes less than a second.” If you aimed at the right place, and if your target didn’t struggle.

“Has it ever crossed your mind that,” said Laurent, leaning back into his corner of the couch so that he could look right into Damen’s eyes, “you could be one of us, you just didn’t know all along?”

“They run tests on us every day, at work,” answered Damen, finding the question a bit absurd. “I know what I am. I know what I’m doing.”

“Oh, so do we,” Laurent huffed, staring at the remaining content in his glass as he whirled it. Damen didn’t miss his choice of pronoun and that familiar edge in his voice that came and went.

“For better or worse, your job is certainly much more exciting than mine,” Laurent began again as he adjusted his position, crossing his legs. For two seconds Damen’s attention was stuck on the smooth fair skin showing through the ripped parts of his grey jeans so he didn’t registered that Laurent had shifted closer in his direction. “I work in a biotech lab.”

“As a technician,” he then added, probably for fear of confusion.

The lack of immediate response betrayed Damen as much as his briefly widened eyes did.

“I… had different assumptions about your occupation,” admitted Damen.

“You thought I was a pleasure model,” said Laurent, surprisingly seeming more amused than offended by Damen’s presumption. His eyes were the color of fine blue topaz in this lighting, his dampened hair ready to drip liquid gold.

“You’re way too attractive to be anything else,” Damen tried his best to make it sound like a compliment but not derogation, as it was supposed to be.

Laurent hummed as if plotting something in his head. He lowered his gaze to look at his own hands, which long and delicate fingers he was now slowly flexing. When he blinked, his dense lashes brushed against the highest points of his cheekbones, flapping and trembling like wings of birds.

“They say I’m a customized model,” he lifted his wrists slightly to examine the inner side of them, like they were some novel objects instead of parts of his own body. Blue veins ran under the finest skin there—replicants were bioengineered to look exactly the same as humans, but it still shocked Damen sometimes how much they resembled the real thing.

“Who knows where they had gathered the parts to build me?” said Laurent, it came out like a question that was not demanding an answer.

“Where, I don’t know. I just know the person who commissioned them to make you must be filthy rich.”

To that, Laurent didn’t answer. He picked up his glass from the coffee table, tilted his head back and downed all the alcohol in it.

“I might just have too much to drink,” he said, leaning his upper body forward to put the glass back on the table, suddenly looking like he might topple over. The towel fell from Laurent’s shoulders. Damen grabbed on his arms in time and pulled him back in place.

“I thought alcohol didn’t affect you,” Damen said as he still kept both hands wrapped around Laurent’s arms from behind, but they went from just supporting them to a soothing, sweeping motion against the now half-dried black fabric. He felt the lean muscles underneath tense and relax in his palms.

“The effect, like most other things in us, is also customizable,” Laurent pointed out as he briefly luxuriated in Damen’s massaging hands like he was genuinely enjoying it. Then, in their awkward position of Damen half-embracing Laurent from behind, he tilted his head to one side so that he could turn his face to look at Damen, “I’m only doing this so that you could take me to bed.”

Damen’s hands stopped abruptly. But then Laurent began to snuggle up to Damen’s chest, fitting himself perfectly in the space there, looking up at him with his marble glass eyes with intent.

Damen knew his own weakness, knew that once he was caught in a situation like this he would have no means to back away from it if he ever found out it was a trap, as it had happened once in the past.

“We don’t have to,” he tried to resist, and it sounded too much like pleading.

“I think we both know why I’m here,” Laurent cooed as he gently pressed the side of his face onto Damen’s shoulder, then, in a voice that was not completely free of self-disdain, “a stray android, clinging to the arms of its executioner.”

The sudden realization of how this was a much more precarious situation for Laurent than for himself, coupled with the intense urge to feel the fine strands of gold now rubbing on his sweater, was all it took to dismantle Damen’s feeble defense.

“Only if you want,” Damen yielded, lifting one hand to smooth the soft hair around Laurent’s face.

“To let you take me apart and examine me everywhere?”

There was a change in the quality of Laurent’s voice that Damen couldn’t exactly fathom. He looked down, and saw that the smile on Laurent’s face was devious, saccharine and sad, at once.

-

Simulated fire crackling from the atmosphere panel in Damen’s bedroom masked the distant sounds of incessant rain and thunder outside. The advanced thermostatic system kept his living unit at an optimal temperature at all times, but it was Laurent’s human-like body heat that was keeping him warm tonight.

Damen slid his hands over Laurent’s still-clothed thighs, which were now aptly straddling his own atop his queen size bed, delighting in the soft sounds Laurent made between deep kisses as his thumbs drew small circles on his inner thighs. Laurent smelled like rain mixed with expensive perfume, and tasted like honeyed wine. It kept Damen wanting more, how Laurent’s kisses were alternately hesitant and unrelenting, a liquor that was sweet on the tongue but burned the back of his throat.

“Have you ever,” Laurent managed, in a charmingly breathy voice, as they broke off once.

“With a replicant?” Damen took over seamlessly, Laurent’s question communicated in means other than words somehow. “Not knowingly.”

Flashbacks filled his mind momentarily against his will, as the ambiguity of his answer hung in the air. He mentally shook himself out of it. Turning back at Laurent’s pale hair and blue eyes, he suddenly saw the irony in it, plain as day. Then, when Laurent didn’t push further but accepted his partial truth with only a raised brow and curious eyes, he corrected himself. Laurent possessed beauty that was comparable to that of hers, but they were evidently two entirely different things.

“And you, have you ever?” Damen whispered as he leaned back in to kiss the spot behind Laurent’s ear, nuzzling the silky golden hair there. His hands had since taken on an exploration of Laurent’s body, albeit still hindered by a layer of fabric, around his taut waistline, up his back, down the flanks and then up again. He surveyed Laurent’s reactions to his different touch, logged them, and imagined doing it all over again. Later, on bare skin.

“He thinks he’s the first,” said Laurent as he visibly fought back the gasps elicited by Damen’s nibbling along the underside of his jaw. The sentence uttered with summoned scorn, complemented with the reddening at the tips of his ears and the glint in his dark eyes, had a heady effect on Damen. He could feel himself rousing—in more ways than one—but more than anything his body ached with a deep, growling desire uncaged.

“He just thinks,” Damen cooed, soft and low, “that he’s very, very lucky.”

He dragged a trail of kisses across Laurent’s left cheek. He paused when he reached the corner of his lips, waited for the first sign of hesitation from Laurent, then took over his mouth as his hand found its way to Laurent’s nape to pull him in. This time, he kissed him like he hoped to deliver all the praises that would sound excessive in words, in the form of long, hot and deep exploitation of Laurent’s mouth.

When he finally pulled away, it was to check if he could find a hint of annoyance on Laurent’s face at the interruption. Convinced that he did, he tugged at the hem of the top Laurent was wearing to signify that the break would only be brief but was necessary. He pecked on his cheek in compensation, and asked softly, “Can I see more?”

He would have spent more time to consider the momentary disbelief on Laurent’s face upon hearing that, if he hadn’t been so stunned by what he saw when Laurent swiftly lost his top.

It was at that particular moment that Damen had the strange epiphany that Laurent, despite everything, was indeed man-made. If God existed, he did not make this. He thought as his eyes savored the fine alabaster skin now fully on display, a stark contrast to the dark veil that had covered it and was now discarded on the floor. He tried to recall art terminology he had heard of: golden ratio, perfect balance; but none of these could even begin to describe the way lines were placed on Laurent’s body. The hollows and protrusions around the shoulders and collarbones were shaped like grips of luxurious handcrafted bows, elegant to look at and perfect to touch. When he breathed, the lines that cut in all the right places over his chest and abs deepened and faded. God made men the way he liked them to be, and men did the same with things. Damen continued to muse as his admiration went on. God did not make this. A man did. This was made according to men’s liking, not God’s.

“I bet it turns you on to know you could do virtually anything you want to a body like this without any real consequences,” said Laurent, in a tone that could be either seductive or provocative, or both. There was a cruel degree of truth to what he just said. Yes, there were laws which prohibit abuse of replicants, but according to them, anything that could be fixed with money and some tweaking of programs was never considered to be out of line.

“When I see a body like yours,” Damen began to disagree. The prettiest, finest thing I’ve ever seen in my life, he added only mentally. “I only want to do everything you want.”

At that, Laurent again gave a subtle scowl with distrust, but was quick to turn his face away as Damen finally smoothed his hands on his bare waist, where the skin was soft as cream. Damen was not sure why Laurent should get offended by his saying a thing like this or asking for permission, but he was currently too fascinated by the way Laurent was responding to his hands gliding all over his body to be truly concerned.

“It suits you,” Damen praised as he passed an index finger over the navel piercing on Laurent. It was small and simple, adorned with a tiny blue gem. “Are there more?”

“You’re insatiable, you know?” The look Laurent gave him as he said this was supposed to be chastising, but only served to send a thumping pulse down Damen’s lower abdomen.

“I once heard,” Damen said, as his hands went up to Laurent’s chest to roll his nipples between his fingers. They were small and hard like summer berries; Damen’s mouth thirsted for a taste of them. Laurent’s body gave a jerk that was frankly overreaction to such a minor stimulation, which he tried to conceal with a quick kiss on Damen’s lips as Damen leaned closer. He finished his sentence against Laurent’s lips, “That certain parts of the pleasure models’ bodies were specifically designed.”

He adjusted his tone so that it fit the topic he was discussing. His tone was lewd. One of his hands left Laurent’s front and traveled to his back to cup his buttock, still clad in jeans but soft and full all the same, as if he feared he had not made his meaning clear. Damen was aware he was taking liberties both with his words and his body, but he couldn’t wait any longer to show Laurent what he wanted Laurent to see and feel, what no one else could give him. He wanted, to see his sophisticatedly engineered mind to be able to process nothing else, and to hear his wonderful mouth sigh only his name.

A wicked smile appeared on Laurent’s innocent face, informing Damen in his own unique way that his invitation to this night-long venture had been accepted. He rolled his hips once, twice against the burning core of Damen, which was hard as rock, then began to walk his palms onto Damen’s chest to push him down onto the bed. Damen’s head landed on the pillows as he heard Laurent’s clever mouth say one last thing,

“I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

-

Laurent got back to his neighborhood by his motorbike when the sky was a ghostly white. “Neighborhood” was a nice way to put it, while it really was just the gutter where everything that fell through the brighter parts of the city gathered. Drizzle wetted his outfit which hadn’t been fully dry since he had left that night club last night. He took off his helmet and habitually shook his head twice once he reached close enough to the building. A homeless man lay at the open entrance of the building, next to which black letters “SKINJOB RIGHTS” were sprayed on the cement wall. There was not enough information to tell whether the man was just asleep or dead.

Over the past two years, Laurent realized that there were a lot of similarities between the life here and playing a new game. There were a lot of rules to learn. Many things that were forbidden in other parts of the city were allowed here, such as off limits drugs, contract killing, trafficking and prostitution involving underaged replicants; and vice versa, like how you should never fly a hovercar around here although they were everywhere in other areas, because they would attract too much attention from the cops. Then, like in games, there were things you could practice to get better at. Like getting yourself out of trouble, or looking for it intentionally then getting out of it. Good thing Laurent was a fast learner, because the biggest difference between his life now and a game was that if he slipped up, what awaited him could be worse than death.

Laurent opened the door to his unit and was relieved to see no one in the living room. He proceeded to his own room with footfalls as light as a cat.

As the familiar smell of the air of his own space filled him, he realized suddenly he needed a moment to collect himself. He lay down on his bed and started breathing deeply in a rhythm, imagining the fatigue from the escapade at the club fading with each exhalation. To his frustration, the more he tried, the more he felt a different kind of soreness take shape instead. Soreness resulted from other uses of his body last night. He allowed himself to stay like this for two minutes.

The monitor on his desk, switched on automatically when he entered the room, was showing widgets of information such as sightings of police in the area and job requests from the black market repair shop Laurent worked at. At the top left corner was a gallery displaying photos, taken from times when wanting to remember specific moments of his life was still a normal thing to Laurent.

On the screen was a photo of Laurent in polo uniform, posing next to a stocky white pony. He had been eleven years old. That same year, he had been given the truth about what being a son to Aleron and Hennike Arles of the Arles Corporation had really meant. He learnt that his resemblance to his mother was not a result of the wonder of inheritance, only state-of-the-art engineering. He also learnt that human boys didn’t receive a new body and have their memory and operating system transferred to it each year. It was shocking to him, because between homeschooling and only playing with a carefully selected group of girls and boys of his own kind growing up, he had never once doubted his realness.

For countless times, they reassured Laurent that not a thing in his life was ever going to change due to his nature, that the very reason he had been created was because there had been love and wealth with no place to go. Yet, in the end, what really brought him peace was knowing that Auguste, his golden shining star of an elder brother, was also a replicant. At eleven, Laurent had thought, how could that possibly be bad, if it meant being just like Auguste?

Another photo popped up. In the picture, Laurent’s ski goggles were pushed up to show his cold-pinked cheeks; Auguste was next to him, laughing and wearing a beanie covered in chunks of snow which had been Laurent’s doing. Laurent looked at himself on the screen—he was smiling just like an ordinary teenager having the time of his life—and felt an urge to look away.

Everything had changed after that trip. They had come home to the news of their parents’ fatal private jet accident, and the subsequent board decision for their uncle to take over the Arles Corporation. Several months later, the company had announced a list of older replicant model numbers manufactured by the Corp that had been found to be seriously fault-prone, together with Auguste’s removal from the board. Auguste had been one of the original models pioneered by the Corp.

Laurent lifted both hands to cover his eyes with his palms. He remembered that night like yesterday. Auguste had appeared in the doorway of Laurent’s room, still in his business suit and carrying a duffel bag. He’d wrapped his arms tightly around Laurent’s shoulders and kissed the top of his head wordlessly. He had only come to say goodbye, but Laurent had been taught to make his own decisions his whole life. A life without Auguste or a lifetime of side-stepping, dodging and running away. It had been the easiest decision he had ever had to make.

Hot water from the shower warmed Laurent’s body, washing away the rain that had soaked every inch of him last night.

The only tricky part had been building the connections he’d needed to get the name of the blade runner assigned to hunt his brother. That had taken time, money and effort. Everything after that had been easy.

Damianos had been easy.

Most of the information Laurent had successfully obtained about Damianos turned out to be accurate. The excessively powerful physique. The imprudent, egotistic demeanor. The lack of discretion and self-preservation. The strong tendency to give in to physical attraction—it was almost ludicrous, how simple it had been to seduce this man. Perhaps even the unverified rumors he had come across about Damianos were indeed true. How he had slumped from deputy chief to a bottom-ranked, scavenging blade runner, all just for covering up some data breach committed by the mistress of his chief of police half-brother. It sounded like cheap soap TV, but after meeting Damianos in person, Laurent’s doubt about the authenticity of this story had now shrunk significantly.

The only discrepancy Laurent hadn’t expected was how Damianos had behaved in bed. Laurent examined the marks scattered all over his body in the mirror as he toweled himself down. They looked like crimson scars of various sizes, burned there by Damianos’ mouth. Laurent’s mind wandered off as he discovered more and more of them, in places he didn’t remember had been touched.

Tell me how you like it. Damianos had whispered near his face, as his palms had slid down Laurent’s thighs, spreading them. Rough. Eyes closed, Laurent had responded, because that way it would be over sooner and more tolerable than this. Then you don’t know what you like. Damianos had said with an infuriating smile in his voice before he had begun to put Laurent through rounds of slow, torturous, dragged-out pleasure.

It had been nothing like Laurent had rehearsed mentally with the theoretical knowledge he’d possessed, especially with Damianos. He recalled the sounds he had made when Damianos had pushed him to the edge, repeatedly, and felt heat creep up his cheeks.

None of that mattered anymore. He demanded himself to shut last night out of his mind as he pulled on a sweatshirt he’d borrowed from Auguste and returned to his room. This had been planned to be a one-off, and his plan had worked out.

He keyed in the pin to the lock on his drawer and picked up the mobile device stowed in there. A few taps and swipes and a map of the city was pulled up on the screen. There used to be only one moving dot on it, but now there were two, thanks to the codes Laurent had loaded onto Damianos’ tracker wristband while he had gone in the shower after they’d been done. Laurent had been extremely lucky he hadn’t even had to consider using any of his backup plans.

He watched the dot that was Damianos hovering around the downtown police station as his other hand reached deeper into the corner of his drawer. He knew it was there, but he needed to feel it. His fingers slipped along the cold metallic barrel, then to the curve of the back of the grip. He lifted it slightly, sensing the grounded weight and the finality it carried.

Withdrawing his hand, he took one last look at the screen and saw the other dot approaching his own current location. He put the device back, shut the drawer and heard the lock click.

Outside, there was the sound of the main door opening.

“Laurent, I’m home,” said his brother, coming home from a night of strenuous, exploitative labor, the only type of work he was able to sustain without proper documentation.

His brother should not have to live like this, but even living itself was quickly becoming a thing he had to fight for. Fury was a hissing snake perched in Laurent’s artificial heart.

His plan was simple, and only one more step remained: One day, the dot on the map that was Damianos would finally get too close to the one that was Auguste, and that would be the day when Laurent would pull the trigger on Damianos.

There was nothing Laurent would not do to save Auguste’s life. And he knew Auguste felt the same way for him, too.

So he ran his fingers through his damp hair once, pretending he had just freshened himself up with a morning shower after a good, undisturbed night’s sleep, and opened his bedroom’s door.

“Morning, Auguste.”

-------------------------------------------------------- This is a completely self-indulgent fic and I enjoyed writing every word of it so that was noice. That being said, writing in a second language will never not be nerve-wracking and there were times I simply had no idea what I was doing. Please pretend you don’t see bad grammar and weird phrases because I know they must exist. I apologize if Damen sounds like a complete douchebag at times. It’s entirely intentional. I tried to downplay the potential Auguste/Laurent in this but no matter what I did it’s just kind of there LOL they’re also not REAL brothers when you think of it so

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 40: The Leaky Cauldron

Even before Peter's head had stopped spinning from their newest space he heard a door slam shut, and as his eyes focused on the surroundings he only saw four around him. Evans, Longbottom, and Smith had very likely gone into the first room they'd seen, away.

Blinking a few more times Peter found himself face to face with a crup, asleep at the moment curled up in the corner of its crate. Looking around more properly he recognized himself in the Magical Menagerie, he was leaning against the counter, and after hoisting himself to his feet found a pristine cage full of lively rats skipping happily about and a door beyond that, likely where the rest of their group had vanished to.

ames was already pacing in heated frustration, paying no attention to anyone around him with his continued mutterings. "Misunderstanding my arse, we just heard about Hagrid being taken to that place because of something he didn't do, but apparently it's the most mad thing on Earth for the same to have happened to Sirius. Thirteen people, thirteen years, this is a right load of-"

"I know that Prongs, we know that," Remus was still trying to soothe his temper, with good reason. They didn't have Snivellus here for him to vent on, and the niffler currently trying to escape its crate certainly didn't deserve his wrath any more than any other creature in here. "It just, shocked them I'm sure, caught all of us off-"

"Shocked! Yeah, that's a good one. Padfoot! Sirius, why the bloody hell didn't you-"

All three of them turned to find him right where he'd still landed, slumped against the back wall where apparently a billywig was usually displayed, though he wasn't spotting anything in there right now.

James finally vented some of his fury by clutching up the first thing his hand grabbed, a bag of rat feed off the counter, and chucking it at him. It collided just above his head and sprayed everywhere with still no reaction.

"The hell's the matter with you!" James stormed over to him still in a towering temper. "Why am I the only one-"

"What's shouting about it doing you? Any good? I don't think so!" Remus insisted, starting to look a little flustered himself as he looked desperately between the pair, and then finally to Peter as if actually thinking he'd have an answer for once. He just held his hands up in surrender, as lost for words as he had been during the last fight between his friends. He wasn't even sure if this was a fight, what did you call such a horrid accusation that Sirius wasn't protesting?

James began his pacing again as words echoed from outside the door about Harry spending his time in Diagon Alley of his own free will. He was grinding his teeth and muttering so furiously it was a wonder if he could even hear a word.

"Why weren't the names listed?" Sirius finally did speak up, when Harry would overhear passersby on the street talking of it so casually. "The, the ones who..."

Remus sat down beside him then, wrapping an arm around his shoulders while Sirius kept his knees tucked to his chest. James deflated slightly, but his need for action against this still wouldn't slow even as he answered a touch more calmly. "Ah, I'm sure they are at the bottom or something, probably that Shunpike guy just, you know, didn't read it."

"It, very well might have been us though," Peter grudgingly acknowledged what he thought Sirius might be thinking. "You got the blame for something happening, but the two of us were there, for some reason, and something happened."

"Said a Muggle was present, for all we know that could have been the target and things got out of hand. Merlin knows that sounds like something you'd get caught in," Regulus offered quietly, shuffling over by the front door as he looked uneasily from this room to the street. It was very clear he had no want to join the others upstairs now, but he still didn't feel secure in here with them.

Sirius didn't look particularly relieved, but he did marginally seem to come to grips with this idea now that there was some sort of explanation in the air. Even just Regulus speaking again, the first time he'd made any attempt to do so since the revelation of You-Know-Who had been announced, eased just some part of him. Of course the paper would take his name and slander the rest, come up with some cock-and-bull story about him being on the Dark Lord's side and blame him just like Hagrid had for being a half-giant so of course he'd been the cause of that Chamber mess no matter how little sense it made when you stepped back to look at it.

The majority of what they heard of the book wasn't particularly noteworthy, Ron and Hermione arriving, Ron's little pet rat apparently was sick and Hermione got her hands full with a new cat, literally. Glancing up at the shelves now he spotted it quickly enough, the squashed face wasn't hard to miss among the sleek breeds. Crookshanks was perched right on the edge of his enclosure, already out and free again, watching everything below with intelligent yellow eyes that frankly gave Sirius the creeps to stare at too long.

Then the fight with Molly and Arthur was overheard, and Sirius had to painfully remember how to swallow again. Remus tightened his arm around him and scooted just a bit closer with a scowl in place, while his other two friends began saying terse things of rebuttal to every horrible thing those Weasleys had to say about him. Sirius found himself as flush with gratitude for them as he had been with worry in the first place.

For the first time, he really thought about his life in this future without Prongs, what must be going through his head for all of this. It seemed he'd look past this heinous crime, possibly even seek Harry out and somehow reveal the truth to him. It's not like he had anyone else to turn to? It made some sort of sense, why Harry would have spotted a black dog around him, Harry seemed to be the only link he had left to the life around him.

Reaching up, he grasped Remus' hand on his shoulder and held it for a few moments longer than strictly necessary, just breathing again which he swore he hadn't done for the remainder of that bus ride. He grinned at Prongs and Wormtail, even Regulus for not running off the second they heard this. He didn't care what the rest of the magical world thought, he'd long since learned to ignore the student populace and this was no different. He had all the people he needed to care about right here.

[onechicago-upsteadrhekker]

Oh my gosh you guys!! Another upstead prompt here...I am so excited for you to read this one. It got more involved than originally intended but I had so much fun writing this! I don’t wanna give anything away so I’ll save the rest of my notes for the end!  @randers198  requested #3, “H-How long have you been standing there?”

*title taken from Sleeping at Last’s song ‘Mind’

i’m short of breath standing next to you

Hailey bounded up the stairs, passing patrol officers that were heading out for their shift. She did not envy them; she remembered well the days of sitting in a patrol car during the coldest part of the year, desperately trying to get the heat to actually blow out hot air before giving up and bundling up in layers of CPD approved clothes.

Oh how she loved being in Intelligence. Her own comfy clothes, a warm truck to sit in and the best partner she would ever have keeping her company.

She slipped through the double doors, welcoming the burst of warm air that greeted her as she entered the district, pulling off her gloves to shove in her coat pocket and stomping her boots free of snow. As cold as it was, Hailey did have to admit it was quite beautiful with the snow falling, covering everything in white however the ice made everything more difficult; running, car chases, stakeouts but she was used to it. She was Chicago through and through.

“Good morning Trudy,” Hailey called out, smiling as she approached the front desk.

The Desk Sargent looked up from where she was going through a stack of folders. Her eyes narrowed before inclining her head in acknowledgment, “Detective.”

“Got any mail for me?” Hailey rested her arms on the counter, peering over it to see if she could get a glimpse of what was on Platt’s agenda for the day. AKA trying to see if the Sargent had pulled any extra paperwork to spring on Intelligence since the department was going through another ‘reform’ program. It was a pain and Hailey hated when politics interfered with Intelligence way of doing things but there was nothing anyone could do about it. They just had to suck it up till it passed.

Platt shook her head and Hailey turned her attention back to her, “No, Jay picked it up when he got here this morning.”

It wasn’t uncommon for them to pick up each others mail if they for some reason beat the other to the front desk to ask about it first but what was unusual was for Jay to get to the station before her. They usually rode together but this morning when Hailey was just starting to wake up, Jay had leaned over to give her forehead a kiss and whisper in her ear that he had some paperwork at the district he wanted to get done before the work day really got going. 

She’d hummed and automatically kissed him back when he’d pressed his lips against hers before she rolled over to get a few more minuets of sleep, faintly hearing Jay open and shut the front door.

This also wasn’t uncommon as Jay was an early riser and it was totally plausible that if he’d gotten behind on his paperwork he would go into work early and with all the extra paperwork that had been coming their way lately because of the reform thing, Hailey would not be surprised if Jay had been slacking in that department. He hated paperwork; it was the only thing he didn’t like about the job but it was a necessary part so he did it, grudgingly and sometimes it was late but at least he did it.

So that’s why she hadn’t thought anything about it at first except he had been acting rather strange the past week or so and so she wondered if something had inspired Jay to get to work early, before her for some reason. 

In fact, the whole team seemed to acting different. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it but it felt almost as if they were all in on something and she was out of the loop but she couldn’t decide if it was intentional or not because why would they not clue her in? The only reasons she could think of were ones she didn’t want to think about. Such as something similar to what Olinsky and Adam went through and Jay was trying to protect her.

She hadn’t said anything yet because she didn’t have any real evidence other than a feeling and and conversations between various members of the team that seemed to be hushed and then cut short once she entered the room. And then everyone was smiles and it just seemed off. Of course, she could be imagining things that weren’t there but Hailey was a detective and she was trained to read between the lines, to see things that were being covered up.

But she knew if something really was going on then the reason why she wasn’t being informed of whatever it was that was going on wasn’t out of malice. They would have a good reason to keep her in the dark but it was starting to bother her that the whole team knew but not her.

So that’s why she was determined to bide her time a little longer and see if this secretive behavior continued or if she gathered any more evidence before confronting Jay and the team to pry out whatever it was they were keeping secret.

But it couldn’t help to do some preliminary investigating. Hailey glanced at the steps that led up to the bullpen before making sure no one else was close enough to listen in on her conversation. If anyone knew what was going on, it was Trudy Platt.

“So Trudy,” Hailey rapped her fingers on the counter, biting her lip briefly before continuing, “Is it just me or have you noticed things being,” She fished for a word to subtly describe what she’d picked up on, “different around here lately?”

Trudy stopped rifling through her folders and looked at her. Hailey couldn't get a clear read on the Sargent’s facial expression but Platt seemed to immediately put up her guard, her eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. To the ordinary eye, it would seem like Trudy was giving away nothing but Hailey was already on high alert and she had learned a few of Platt’s tails over the years so she knew what to look for. 

“What do you mean,” Trudy arched an eyebrow.

Hailey narrowed her own eyes, trying to decide how much to give away. She shrugged, going for a nonchalant yet naively confused attitude, “I don’t know. It just seems more secretive around here for some reason. I guess it’s just me.”

There was a few moments of awkward silence in which each woman was trying to get a read on the other without it being obvious. Hailey blew out a breath breaking the weird tension between them, “Welp, guess I’d better head upstairs.”

Trudy abruptly dropped the stack of folders she’d been holding since Hailey had gotten there and quickly walked out from behind the desk, already heading up the stairs, “I’ll come with you. I need to tell Hank something.”

Hailey’s eyebrows rose, more and more suspicious that something was wrong and that Trudy Platt definitely knew about it. She quickly followed the Sargent, barely catching the gate as it was starting to swing close. 

Straining her ears, she could hear Trudy say something about her coming and there was a lot of movement, like people running and flipping into their desk chairs. Sure enough, when she got to the top of the stairs she did a quick once over and saw that every one was there and in their seats, all of them looking way to engrossed in their work for this early in the morning meanwhile Trudy was retreating into Voight’s office, shutting the door behind her.

Okay, now she was more than convinced that something was definitely going on. Something they were trying to keep secret from her because there was no way that everyone got to work before her unless it was pre-planned. The only consolation was that whatever it was didn’t seem serious like her previous suspicions of what might be going on. What she just walked into felt more like she just caught them with their hand in the cookie jar.

While this was a relief, there was no way she was letting it go. Now that she knew there was something brewing within the team, something she apparently was being kept in the dark about, she decided she was going to get to the bottom of this.

She was a detective after all.

She would play it cool and keep her head down but her ears on and wait for one of them to slip up.

“Good morning guys,” She chirped, pretending that she found nothing out of the ordinary. Like she hadn’t noticed the way they were all trying to act nonchalant but failing terribly...at least to her eyes. She knew them all well enough to know they were clearly trying to hide whatever they had been doing before she’d walked up the steps.

There were hums and ahhs and mumbled acknowledgements as they all pretended to look absorbed into their work and she barely refrained from rolling her eyes at how conspicuous they were being. Especially for being in Intelligence.

Hailey shook her head to herself as she sat down at her own desk, peering at Jay who was staring intently at his computer screen, acting like he hadn’t noticed her sit down. She knew he knew she was there. He always noticed her.

Pursing her lips, she reached over to tap on his screen to get his ‘attention’, “Did you get that paperwork done dear?”

Maybe she was being to obvious in playing dumb because she almost never called him dear but she just couldn’t help herself. He was asking for it with how obvious he was being. Besides, they all seemed to be to focused on not noticing her that she doubted any of them were really paying attention, Jay included.

He blinked owlishly a few times, making a show of slowly raising his eyes to meet hers and again, she had to refrain from rolling her eyes.

Jay smiled at her, it was a little too causal and happy-go-lucky to be believable. She knew him better than she knew herself, had been the man’s partner for four years and they had been dating for a year so he wasn’t fooling her.

But she decided to play along for the time being because one, he and the team had to have a good reason for keeping a secret from her and two, asking him about it would take the fun out of it. 

“Oh, hey Hailey,” He stood up to lean over their desks to give her a quick kiss on the cheek, “What were you saying?”

She arched an eyebrow, motioning to his desktop, “That paperwork. Did you get it done?”

He leaned back in his chair, pushing it back some as Voight walked out of his office, clearly ready to give them the day’s rundown. She noticed Trudy hightailing it back downstairs.

Jay shrugged, “Yeah, yeah. All done.”

She gave him a pleased smile, “Good,” before turning in her own chair to direct her attention to Voight.

She would get to the bottom of this. She was a detective after all and Jay never could keep a secret from her for long whether he wanted her to find out about it or not. She just had to wait for the right moment.

Well, as it turned out, ‘the right moment’ came along sooner than expected.

She and Jay had been monitoring the zone when a shooting with the same markings as a guy Intelligence had been trying to track down cane across the scanner. So they’d hopped in the truck and literally sped over there as quickly as possible.

It had been pretty straight forward. Or at least as straight forward as their line of work could get. No one got hurt and she and Jay managed to apprehend the shooter, even found some drugs on the guy and in his house and backup had arrived in a timely manner so it had been a relatively uneventful response.

Hailey was always grateful for the ones that went smoothly because they came few and far in between. Especially in Intelligence.

While Jay was speaking to the responding officers, Hailey had popped into the truck to grab the usual paperwork in situations like these when her attention had been drawn to Jay’s personal phone. He had left it in the cup holder in the console and she barely caught the words of a text message before the screen went dark again.

Now, she usually didn’t do this sort of thing. Even with Jay because she respected his privacy just as he did hers although there wasn’t much they didn’t share. Ordinarily, he probably wouldn’t mind her looking at his texts but there was something going on here and she could have sworn she’d seen the name ‘Adam’ as the contact who sent said text.

Glancing around, she determined the cost was clear and she turned the phone back on. Sure enough, there was a text from Adam saying ‘10-4’ and there was one from Kevin saying ‘copy’. These messages had been sent from a group text. A group text she was not a part of so it wasn’t their normal one with everyone on it.

Hailey wanted to know what they were ‘10-4’ing and ‘copy’ing so she quickly glanced back up and upon seeing Jay still talking to one of the patrol officers, she sent up a quick apology before typing in his code and opening his texts.

She felt guilty doing this but she convinced herself it was for the good of her ‘case’ and she couldn’t help the fact that she had seen the texts which had driven her curiosity even more.

There was a group text. Between Jay, Adam, Kevin, Kim and Vanessa but not her.

Only a single text was sent out by Jay saying locker room after work.

The others had responded with various okay’s but that was all that was there. She had a sneaking suspicion that that hadn’t been the only correspondence via the mysterious group chat though so Jay must have deleted the other messages. 

So he was being careful after all.

She quickly marked Kevin and Adam’s texts as unread, careful not to clear them from the notifications on the home screen before locking the phone and putting it back in the cup holder. Grabbing what she’d initially come for, Hailey hopped out of the truck and headed back towards Jay and the patrol officers. Luckily no one seemed to realize she was gone slightly longer than she probably should have been.

After getting the patrol officers to sign the paperwork, Hailey went to record the dope findings under their suspect’s bed, pleased with herself that she now had a solid lead into her other investigation. It sounded like she would make the case tonight in the locker room if she played her cards right.

The rest of the day went about as ‘normal’ as a day in Intelligence usually went and when the team reconvened at the bullpen to tie up the run-of-the-mill paperwork of the day, Hailey began mulling over how she was going to sneak into the locker room undetected.

That part wouldn’t be hard but she didn’t want Jay or anyone else knowing that she was onto this little meeting of theirs to discuss whatever it was she hoped to find out so she figured she would just make a show of leaving the station and then sneak back in. 

Besides, they probably had a plan for getting rid of her so she decided she would just play along.

As the sun started to sink lower in the sky casting a glow over the bullpen, Hailey could tell that Jay was starting to get restless, his eyes darting to the clock every few minuets. She pretended to be oblivious to the anticipation building in the room and now she was really curious as to what was going to go down in the locker room. And tried not to be hurt by the fact she was being left out.

Because it wasn’t her birthday or an anniversary or anything so she didn’t know what could be going on that needed to stay a secret from her but she was determined to find out.

Eventually, at about 6:30, Jay rubbed his eyes, dropping his pen and stacking up the paperwork he’d been filling out. This must have been a cue for everyone else because it seemed like they all ‘got done’ at the same time which wasn’t that unusual. When one of them decided to call it a day, the others usually followed suit but Hailey was on high-alert tonight and she knew what their plans were.

The familiar rush of adrenaline and hyper-awareness that Hailey always felt before any type of field work whether it be simple surveillance, a drug bust or going undercover flooded her senses; this felt most like going undercover but without the danger so the fear was replaced by mere curiosity and a need to know what was going on.

Vanessa was the first one to make a move, powering down her computer and hopping out of her seat to grab her coat, sliding it on, “I think I’m gonna call it a day guys.”

“You know what, I think I am too,” Kevin piped up, mirroring Vanessa’s movements, grabbing his own coat to pull on. He gave her an easy smile and Hailey had noticed that they’d been hanging out a lot more than usual these days but she had a feeling that tonight was purely for show because she knew they had responded to Jay’s text in the affirmative meaning they weren’t actually leaving.

“You kids have fun!” Adam called after them as they went down the stairs, waving their goodbyes. 

Hailey was silent, waiting to see what the next phase of their plan was going to be as she continued to look focused on the case report she was writing.

She heard Kim take an over exaggerated yawn and glanced out of the corner of her eye to see ‘stretching’ and packing up her own stuff, “I’m actually pretty tired. I think I’m gonna head home too.”

Hailey picked up her head, turning in her seat to see Adam shut off his computer as well...so they were all leaving in twos. She wondered what Jay’s plan was for her.

“You got the right idea, babe. You wanna pick up some take-out to bring home?” Adam tilted his head in Kim’s direction as he put his arms through his coat sleeves.

She nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah sounds good.” Kim turned to look at her and Jay, “What about you guys? Have any plans?”

Hailey was going to just play it off causally when Jay spoke up from behind her, “Yeah, actually. We do.”

That was the first Hailey had heard about any plans for the two of them and she wondered what Jay had up his sleeve and how the mysterious locker room meeting played into it. She didn’t think she’d misinterpreted the text messages.  

Adam nodded, “Have a good time then!” He waved and Hailey glanced to Jay who waved back, leaning back in his chair.

Kim gave them a smile, “Bye Hailey, Jay.” And Hailey responded with mumbled ‘see you tomorrow’. She was confused by this turn of events and now her mind was in overdrive, trying to figure out what was happening. What Jay was planning because if she was right, the rest of the unit was in on it.

Maybe Jay’s ‘plans’ was just to get rid of her. She shook her head slightly, spinning in her chair to look at Jay still at his desk across from her. She was still planning on sneaking into the locker room. Hopefully she’d get a clearer picture then.

She raised an eyebrow at her boyfriend, “We have plans?”

He smiled mischievously and she thought she detected a little anxiety coming from him; she wondered if she was imagining things now because why would he be anxious about a secret locker room meeting with their friends?

“Yep, we do,” She raised her eyebrows even further as she watched him stand up to come around their desks to be in front of her. He tugged on her hand and she slowly stood, watching him with suspicious eyes.

Jay leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek, lingering to whisper in her ear, “Go home and put on a dress.”

Now she was very confused. She hadn’t been anticipating this when planning her night of sneaking into the locker room to spy on her team then sneaking back to the apartment to jump in some comfy clothes to pretend she’d been watching TV the whole evening by the time Jay ultimately got home.

She wanted to ask where he would be and why she needed to wear a dress because usually their dates didn’t require an actual dress. They were more of a nice-causal wearing kind of couple who went to get Chinese or find a food tuck and maybe an ice cream cone if the weather called for it with a leisurely walk around the park. 

And those kind of dates were considered ‘special’ in her book because usually they ended up at Molly’s with their friends or another bar to have some privacy or their own home with some TV and a make-out session which ultimately led to more.

But she didn’t because she remembered the Jay’s text about the locker room tonight after work and she was still determined to sneak in and find out what him and the rest of their unit had to discuss without her. She supposed this whole fancy date thing was a ruse to get her to go home without him. She wasn’t sure his thinking on this because unless they were actually going out, how was he going to explain why he wanted her to get into a dress? Or go home without him. 

They had driven separately but he would have to explain why he didn’t come home right away.

Hailey decided to just go with it and what happened happened. She knew she was probably overthinking it so she would just play it off like nothing was strange and that she was none the wiser to his secret meeting with their coworkers.

Giving him a look like she didn’t totally believe him because one, she didn’t and two, she wanted to keep up the appearance of she didn’t know anything, “Okay...” She drew it out nice and slow because she knew if she didn’t sound suspicious, he would be onto her, “I’m not sure what this is, but I guess I’ll do it.”

He looked relieved, like he was expecting more resistance and questions about his unusual request and she didn’t blame him because if she hadn’t known about the meeting, she wouldn’t have left till she knew exactly why she was putting on a dress.

He pecked her on the lips, “I love you.”

She smiled genuinely at that, murmuring an ‘I love you’ back before she headed to the locker room to get her stuff and purposely exiting through the bullpen to show Jay she was ‘leaving’.

No one was in said locker room when she’d grabbed her bag and she wasn’t surprised. They probably planned for that too, hiding out somewhere till Jay gave them the all clear because going to the locker room to gather stuff was routine enough to have a plan so she didn’t accidentally see them.

Once she got to her car, she threw the stuff in the backseat and got in the driver’s seat to wait for a few minutes, watching to see if she saw Adam, Kim, Kevin and Vanessa going back into the precinct. If she didn’t, she would just have to assume that they were already in there and hope that she didn’t accidentally run into someone. She also hoped that they didn’t have someone watching her car to make sure she actually left.

Okay, so, it wasn’t the most perfect plan and if this was a real case, Voight would have her head for not being thorough enough in her investigation but she’d only gotten her intelligence that afternoon so she hadn’t had time to figure out every little detail. 

She hadn’t wanted to miss her chance.

Hailey checked her phone, noting it had been a few minuets since she’d left the bullpen and decided it was time to go up so she very silently got out of her car, glancing around the parking lot as she stole to the backdoor, careful to keep in the shadows of the building.

She tried the backdoor and upon finding it locked, she fished out her set of keys each member of Intelligence carried. Sliding the key into the lock, she looked around for one last time before silently opening the door a crack. Just enough to where she could squeeze inside, closing the door behind her and locking it.

Hailey still didn’t see anyone but the lights were on so she carefully sneaked up the stairs, straining her ears to see if she could hear exactly where they were at the closer she got to the locker room. 

She could hear soft murmurings of people talking and when she turned the corner she saw the door propped slightly open, allowing sound to travel farther. Plastering herself against the wall, she inched to the edge of the door and quickly peaked inside.

She couldn’t see anyone but she could hear them talking behind a row of lockers so Hailey did another quick glance around the room before squeezing her way inside, very carefully creeping behind the lockers. 

Her heart was beating inside her chest and she actually felt a thrill of exhilaration to be sneaking around like this. She held her breath as she got close enough to the group to hear what they were saying but staying hidden by the bank of lockers.

Hailey tiptoed to the end of the row of lockers to very carefully peak her head around. Sure enough, there was Jay, Adam, Kevin, Vanessa and Kim all huddled in a tight circle between two rows of lockers but what puzzled her was the fact that they had all changed out of the clothes they were in a few minutes ago and were now dressed like they were going out to a fancy event.

Vanessa and Kim had changed into nice dresses while Adam and Kevin were wearing nice shirts and slacks but Jay, he was dressed in a navy blue suit with a bow tie and everything and she was week-kneed at the sight. Jay looked good in anything he wore but the man could fill out a suit in all the right places and there was something about the way he made himself look classy and charming and hot but causal all without trying that made her flush with the heat swirling low in her belly.

She blinked to snap out of it and her mind was running a mile a minute because none of this made sense. Why did Jay have a suit on? And why was everyone dressed up? She had a feeling this had something to do with why Jay told her to put on a dress which meant that there really was something happening tonight.

She knew it wasn’t her birthday. And she didn’t think it was an anniversary because why would the team be in on it if it was an anniversary? 

Suffice it to say, she had literally no idea what the heck was going on and she was starting to think that maybe it had been a bad idea to try and find out because whatever they were discussing had to be going down tonight and it sounded like she would be coming with them.

So it was either stay and possibly find out now or wait a few hours and find out then.

Hailey was debating on leaving and just go do what Jay had told her or stick around a little longer and then rushing home to throw on a dress before Jay came to pick her up when she heard her name.

Her heart picked up speed because for a splint second she thought she’d been caught but then she heard Jay say, “No, Hailey has no idea.”

Okay, so tonight was definitely supposed to be a surprise for her. Now she started to feel bad she had sneaked in here but she hadn’t really heard anything about what the surprise was so if she just left now, no one would be the wiser and she would still be genuinely surprised.

But then she heard Kevin ask, “Do you have the ring?”

And Hailey felt like all the air had been sucked out of lugs. She was frozen. 

She could hear Jay feeling around in a pocket from where she had her ear pressed around the corner of the lockers but was still hidden and she tried to get herself to move, to get out of there before she heard anymore when she heard the distinctive sound of a ring box opening.

“It’s right here. Trust me, I’ve been double checking that I had it ever since I left for work this morning. Could you imagine me getting ready to ask Hailey and find out the ring wasn’t in my pocket...I’ve had nightmares about it.”

Hailey’s heart was beating so fast and hard she was afraid that they would be able to hear it. 

Jay was going to propose to her. How could she be such an idiot?

She wished she had never snuck in here tonight. He had obviously been planning this and he had made a good effort to keep it from her because heaven knows he couldn’t keep anything from her so she knew he must have been extremely careful to not let her find out.

And then she had to be nosy and sneak into a secret meeting she was never supposed to know about. She felt horrible but at the same time she was barely containing her excitement and shock because Jay was going to ask her to marry him.

She was getting engaged tonight. Hailey blinked. Oh God, she was getting engaged tonight.

A million thoughts and questions and emotions flooded her brain.

How did she not figure this out? Weren’t girls supposed to have some kind of intuition about this sort of thing? She knew there was something going on but the idea of Jay proposing to her never even crossed her mind. Where did he hide the ring? How long had he been planning this? What was his plans? Who knew? Was everyone in on it and she was just oblivious?

She was a detective for crying out loud! And Jay could never hide anything from her but on the same note she was extremely impressed he had.

And now here she was, spying on him.

God, if she’d known this was what he’d had planned she would have never tried to figure it out. She didn’t want to ruin whatever he had planned for them. For his sake...and for hers too.

Hailey could hardly believe it and part of her wanted to just run up to him, jump into his arms and say yes but the other part of her wanted to give them this. All she had to do was sneak back out, go get ready and pretend like nothing had happened and let the night play out how it was planned.

Good god, she was getting married. To Jay. 

She was engaged.

Well, technically not yet but she was going to be.

Hailey carefully took a step back, planing on sneaking out the way she’d come in when she accidentally bumped into a locker that she hadn’t noticed wasn’t shut all the way.

Her eyes widened. Crap. 

The room got suddenly quiet and Hailey didn’t even have time to figure out if she could still escape without anyone seeing her when everyone came rushing around the corner.

She closed her eyes, cringing in regret and defeat before she had the courage to open them, coming face to face with Jay who was standing wide eyed in front of her; Kim, Adam, Kevin and Vanessa crowding around behind him.

She probably would have laughed at their stricken expressions if she wasn’t feeling so horrible about being caught. Or even being there in the first place.

She attempted a feeble smile and Jay just blinked, “H-how long have you been standing there?”

“Oh you know, just a few minutes,” She tried to play it causally off before she realized she was twirling her hair--an anxious habit of hers that hadn’t surfaced in quite some time. She forced her arm to hang by her side before thumbing awkwardly in the direction of her locker, “I uh- I forgot something?”

It came out as sort of a question and she and Jay both knew that that was a lame excuse for what she was really doing. Which was spying on her team.

At this point the shock of finding Hailey hiding behind the row of lockers had worn off and Jay crossed his arms, a suspicious glint in his eyes, “How much did you hear?”

As for Hailey, she was wondering if maybe she could still get of this without having to confess that she did in fact hear things she wasn’t supposed to hear but then she took one look at Jay’s warning gaze and decided she’d better just come clean.

Toeing the floor sheepishly, she grimaced as she looked up at Jay, “Enough.”

Instead of looking hurt or angry like she’d expected he might be he just let out a big sigh, dropping his arms to hang by his side before closing his eyes in exasperation and muttering to himself.

Then to her and everyone else’s surprise, he started chuckling which turned into big, deep laughs. He was wiping at his eyes he was laughing so hard.

Hailey briefly shared a concerned glance with the rest of her team before looking back at Jay who was still laughing, “Um, Jay? Are you okay?”

She didn’t think she’d ever heard Jay laugh quite that hard before and under slightly more ordinary circumstances, she herself would probably be bursting for joy at hearing Jay so care-free but given the circumstances she was slightly concerned that he might be having some kind of stress induced psychotic break.

She just ruined his proposal plans; she thought an appropriate response would be disappointment or anger or something other than uncontrollable laughter. 

Jay finally caught his breath enough to actually look at her, still chuckling, “It’s just that I have planed and planed and planed for months. Going the extra mile and taking extreme precautions to keep you out of the loop only for you to pick up on something today of all days and then for you to decide to sneak up here tonight to find out literally hours before?” He shook his head, “I mean, what are the chances?”

Well, that hadn’t made Hailey feel any better. In fact she felt worse, “Jay, I am so sorry. I just I saw your text about the locker room tonight and you guys had all been acting strange and I wanted to know what you were up to,” She bit her lip, her eyebrows furrowed, upset with herself, “And if it’s any consolation, I really did have no idea this was what you were planing until well, I heard.”

She glanced up at Jay through downcast eyes who had stopped laughing and now just looked defeated in a disbelieving kind of way although a small smile was still playing at his lips, “Are you really very upset with me?” 

“Oh Hailey,” He sighed, trying to contain a grin as he pulled her to him, giving her a quick kiss to her temple, “Of course I’m not upset with you. A little disappointed maybe but not upset. In all honesty, I thought you would have found out a long time ago.”

Now that Jay had assured her that he wasn’t mad, she felt the eagerness and excitement rise up again. Just cause she ruined the surprise didn’t mean he wasn’t going to propose, right?

She pulled back from his embrace, an expectant look on her face, waiting for him to make a move. When he looked back at her quizzically she sighed in impatience and exasperation, “Well, aren’t you gonna ask me?”

He suddenly looked nervous, scratching the back of his neck, “Well, yeah...” 

Hailey smiled impishly, her cheeks becoming a rosy color, “And don’t you wanna know what my answer’s gonna be?”

She was aware of Kevin filming the whole thing, Kim and Vanessa pulling out their own phones as she watched Jay glanced back, clearly looking for some direction. She thought it was cute how he had went from exasperated to flustered in the span of a few seconds.

Adam gave him a look that seemed to say ‘go for it’ and Jay looked back at her, trying to suppress a grin as he took a deep breath to steady himself. She could feel his anxiety but she could also see how excited he was in the way his eyes were sparkling.

He dropped down on one knee and Hailey couldn’t help the grin that split across her face or the happy tears that pricked her eyes as she looked down at the man she was going to spend the rest of her life loving.

Jay cleared his throat, swallowing as he produced a ring box, flicking the lid open to reveal the most gorgeous ring she’d ever seen; it was simple in it’s beauty and it didn’t call attention to itself which was what made it so exquisite.

“Hailey Anne Upton, will you marry me?” His voice was full of emotion and she could see tears spring up in his own eyes, his face full of hope and love and joy.

She gently tugged him back up, stepping up close to him to cup his stubbled cheek, “Of course I’ll marry you,” She whispered it against his lips, looking lovingly into his bright green eyes.

Jay pressed his lips against hers, kissing her properly and she could vaguely hear hoots and hollers in the background from their friends.

She pulled back slightly, a grin still plastered on her face as Jay plucked the ring from the box to slide onto her finger. She looked down at her hand, admiring it’s place on her finger, “It’s beautiful Jay. I love it.”

“Good, I’m glad,” He smiled bashfully and stole another kiss from her. He released her from his light embrace; she turned her attention from the ring back to him, watching as he looked at his watch.

He then looked at her, holding his hand out expectantly while the other held the still open ring box, “Alright, let me have the ring back.”

A confused look crossed her face and she slightly retracted her left hand, “What do you mean let you have the ring back? It’s mine isn’t it?”

Jay rolled his eyes moving closer to take the ring, “Not yet it’s not. Just because the proposal won’t be a surprise doesn’t mean I’m canceling all that hard work I put in and I have some other things up my sleeve, you know. I’ll just propose to you again like I had originally planned so I need the ring back.”

Hailey raised her eyebrows. Huh. Two proposals in one night, “Okay then.”

She took the ring off, hating to part with it even though she knew it would be back on her finger before the night was over. Jay looked awfully smug as he put the ring back in it’s box, sliding it in his pocket, “You need to get dressed and you’re going to have to hurry.”

Kim snapped her fingers and Hailey had almost forgotten that their team was there with them, “Don’t you worry. I’ve got you Hailey.”

She scurried off to her locker and opened it to pull out one of her really nice dresses that she wore for special occasions. She didn’t remember giving Kim that dress, “Wait a second, how did you...”

Kim waved her off, “I snuck into your closet when we had girls night last week. It was a just in case contingency plan. You know, just in case you spilled something or you came up here and figured everything out. Vanessa and I have a back plan for everything so everything is gonna be fine.”

Vanessa flashed a thumbs up, her eyes lighting up enthusiastically, “We thought you guys might need the help.”

Everyone was staring at the two girls with amused expressions. Kim grinned as she brought the dress over to give to Hailey, winking at her, “You can thank us later. Now go get dressed and let’s get this show on the road.”

 Adam slapped Jay and Kevin on the back as they watched Hailey disappear into the hallway with Vanessa and Kim in tow, “Man, now this is gonna be a great story for the wedding.”

Kevin grinned, wriggling his eyebrows, “And to tell to the kids.”

Jay laughed. His eyes sparkling and his heart full at the prospect of a long marriage with Hailey filled with babies and love and joy. 

He couldn’t wait.

The end. Well, what did you think? I loved this so much and I thought it would be kind of funny for Hailey to ‘spy’ on the team and I thought it would be funny for Jay to be secretive but like anxious. I have an actual engagement fic that I am writing to post on AO3, it’s similar to this but it goes into more detail and things work out how they’re supposed to (I’ll say that much) but this scenario I just wrote for the prompt. The real deal will be more elaborate and I’m hoping to have it done by the end of like June maybe?? I want to finish Dancing in the Minefields and some other one-shots I have planned before I post the engagement story and I’m still not exactly sure how long it’s going to be so. It may end up being a multi-chapter. Anyways, I just wanted to let y’all know that! And I am slowly but surely working my way through the prompts so if you requested one and it hasn’t been written yet, don’t worry!! I will get it done! I have some really good ideas and I want to do them justice so just bare with me! Thanks for reading as always!

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 117

SCENAIRO:  Madeline and Operations are seething at the treatment that Colum has metered out to them and vow to seek revenge but until then they have the problem of Jamie and Claire to deal with. They discuss the possibility of a mole in Section who is feeding Colum intel about Jamie and Claire and the mission. Meanwhile Murtagh and Fergus access the Level 5 room which houses the data they seek.

Chapter 116 and all other chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

THANK YOU to all reading and enjoying Covert Operations.  During the month of May, I will post twice weekly on Tuesday and Friday for those who are interested and who are still around after Season 5 finishes. I will still be here writing until I finish this story.   I hope you enjoy what happens next.

   CHAPTER 117

Colum Mackenzie’s words resonated in their heads but the fury that coursed through Section One’s leaders was less than palatable and the tension in the air could have been cut with a knife. Beside her, Madeline noticed the white knuckled fists and the ramrod stance of her superior. Operations’ eyes were sleet grey with fury; his lips were pressed into a white slit of anger; however, Dougal’s reaction was not unexpected. Folding her arms across her chest, Madeline gave him an abrupt glance. Her manner was markedly cool; she too was incensed by Colum’s surprising bombshell. It had been a long time since she had felt such a surge of pure rage, and now thanks to Oversight’s leader he had managed to evoke those feelings within her. However, in some morbid way, Madeline was thankful to him for she had forgotten the rush that such a primal reaction could give. In past occasions such a rush of emotion had given her options that she had used for Section’s advantage … but this time she would have to weigh up her choices well. As shocked as she was by Colum’s surprise, she had been playing this game for far too long to allow raw emotion to overpower cool logic. There was much at stake and personal vendettas at this moment may not be the best option for Section One or for Dougal and her.  She watched as Operations slowly unclenched his fists and shook his head as though struggling to find the right words for what had just transpired in Committee. Calmly Madeline met Dougal’s eyes, watching his reaction. Finally, he blinked and turned to stare back at her, his expression rigid, his words clipped with anger.

“It seems that my brother has been well informed about Jamie and Claire than we had known or anticipated.”  “You don’t think that someone is passing on information to Colum at Oversight?" “It’s possible.” “Then we may have a mole in Section.” “But who?”

“Fergus? Murtagh?” “No … I would find that unlikely. They are opportunists not traitors. Fergus is too loyal to Section and Murtagh has been here too long.” Madeline’s skeptical reply was, “Colum could have gotten to them. There is one thing that is puzzling.” “What’s that?” “I ran into them near a restricted area before coming to Committee.” “Are you convinced they were acting inappropriately?” “No … but it was a surprise to find the two of them there although they gave plausible reasons why.” “Were they acting suspiciously?” “I’m undecided if they were up to something or if it was just a coincidence that the two of them were in the vicinity of a restricted area without clearance.” “Then follow it up Madeline.” “I will.” “But at the moment we have far greater concerns with my brother than to be worrying about Murtagh or Fergus.” “I agree.” Madeline had expected this very response from Operations for she too felt that the two of them had been played for a fool by Colum and that his visit had not only been a reconnaissance mission but had also deeper connotations. It was plainly obvious that Oversight, or more to the point Colum, had his sights set on their leadership at Section One and it was imperative that they do nothing more to antagonise him concerning the Rising Dragons’ mission and in their dealings with Jamie and Claire.  Madeline inhaled and exhaled to compose the fury that welled within and although her face was rigid with barely concealed anger at having been duped by Oversight, her calm tone belied her true feelings. “Yes … so it would seem.” Operations shot her an expression of dark thunder. “And just what are we to do now that Colum has firsthand knowledge of the comings and goings at One?”  Her spine stiffened at his mocking tone and Madeline chose her words carefully. “I admit that it is an unforeseen complication…” Operations snorted disdainfully but said nothing as she added, “… it's unfortunate, but not a complete disaster.”  “Unfortunate!” Dougal turned to her then, his eyes hard as he repeated her words, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Someone at Section One is feeding information to Colum at Oversight and that is unfortunate?” He folded his arms and stared at her, his voice rising in anger. “Explain to me how this is not a complete disaster, Madeline!”  To her unemotional relief, the directive provided Madeline with a perfect opening to a solution.  Meanwhile in the restricted area … The mood of the two men was at polar opposites. The close incident with Joe Abernathy weighed heavily on Fergus’ mind but Murtagh seemed oblivious to the churnings that centered in the pit of his friend’s stomach. With adrenalin kicking up a notch Murtagh had bravado in his step but beside him his ever-cautious buddy was more reticent. Although the corridor was deserted, Fergus continuously referred to his scanning device ever vigilant for any movement that would alert their superiors to their unauthorized access to Level 5.  “Relax Fergus you’re wound up tighter than a spring. We’re in an undocumented area. There shouldn't be anyone here.”  His friend’s confidence was reassuring and Fergus reluctantly nodded but he still kept a close eye on his scanner. They turned right continuing on deeper into the classified level until they arrived at an isolated room with secure doors that seemed to indicate that the room was heavily reinforced and shielded.  “Well what now? How are we going to get in there?” Fergus asked looking over at his friend.  Murtagh’s happy demeanour suddenly dissipated, and thinking that their adventure had come to a sudden end he replied reluctantly, “Yeah.” “Murtagh you promised that if there was another obstacle we would abort.” “Okay … Just give it one try and see if you can access the code. If you’re not successful then we’ll call it quits.”  “Fine.”  Fergus punched the code … two-two-one-seven-one … into the keypad but nothing happened. “Look there's a port on the right,” he stated. “Use your pad again amigo. It might work this time.” Finding the port Murtagh had pointed out, he plugged his keypad in to it. “Try it now.”  But like before, nothing happened and just as Fergus was about to try keying in the code once more, Murtagh placed his hand on his shoulder stopping him. “What’s wrong?” He looked more closely at the entry. “It looks like it might be a retinal scan.” “Well that’s it then. Only Level 5 operatives have clearance for that,” Fergus replied as he watched his friend come closer to examine the mechanism on the door.  However, Murtagh Fitzgibbons placed his eye close to the scanner which immediately lit up. The door opened to reveal a deserted room filled with computer wizardry. “Don’t ask,” he stated when Fergus stood there gobsmacked at what had just happened.  They both stepped through the opened door.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Folding her arms across her chest, Madeline consciously mirrored Dougal's body language, but was careful to keep any hint of defensiveness from her tone. “I’ve been studying Dr Foster’s report on Jamie and Claire and it pains me to say that I feel we have no course of redress concerning the two of them.” Judging by Dougal's cynical expression, Madeline knew he remained in a quandary as to where she was going with this. Taking a step closer to him, she proceeded to push her point home. “We will have to give them some respite together it would seem, to appease Colum.” “No ... it’s out of the question! They will recover here in Medical where we can keep an eye on them.” “Think about it Dougal.”   Madeline replied warily. “Colum knows Jamie and Claire’s recovery is imperative to the Rising Dragons’ mission and he blatantly said they were to have some downtime together. We can’t very well go against his directive now that it has been issued. Mr. Lambert will not take too kindly to our opposition if we do.” Dougal's gaze narrowed, but he finally bowed his head in reluctant acknowledgement. He sighed grudgingly. “I see your point.”  “Anyway, it’s nothing that we have not already discussed. We are not conceding defeat in this matter, but merely covering all bases.” “I never concede defeat Madeline … and you of all people should know that,” he stated brusquely in his usual manner. “I think Colum knows that as well, but think about this rationally. We can bide our time until the time is right. It will give us time to reassess the mission profile, still keep our finger on the pulse as well as keep Oversight and more importantly Mr. Lambert out of our affairs. It’s a win-win situation.” Operations glared back at her as though giving the matter careful consideration. “Fine … do it!” At his acceptance, the tension in Madeline’s neck suddenly eased somewhat. Her mind was already leaping forward planning her next course of action, but she needed to get back to her office in order to do so.  “Madeline?”

She glanced back at Dougal to find him watching her with knowing eyes. “Yes?” “How do you want to play this out?” His pale stare seemed to look right through her. “I’ll finish going over Dr Foster’s report and recommendations and when the time is right, we’ll let them know of our decision. Agreed?” “Agreed.” 

 Meanwhile in the restricted area …

 Murtagh and Fergus entered a small circular room lit with eerie green and pink lights. It had a surreal feel to it and both of the operatives were a little taken aback at what they were seeing.

“Wow! I’ve heard about this section.” Fitzgibbons exclaimed taking in their surroundings as if seeing this room for the first time was like opening a Christmas present.  “What's stored here Murtagh?"  “Each segment is a Mission. When you see one that's lit up that means it's active. It also houses all personal data on Level 5 operatives and above.” Somewhat overawed, Fergus took a quick moment to cast his eyes around the room as well. The walls were lined with rows of panels indicating the subject residing inside the databank and he studied the various panels lining both sides. They passed a bank of blank monitors then a series of labelled ones. Murtagh walked over and started to read the panel labels but couldn’t find what he was after. He looked around and then saw a panel marked PERSONNEL.  “Hey Fergus … Got it … over here … I think this is what we’re looking for.” “Good.”  “Okay can you open it?” Fergus immediately rushed over and examined the panel. There was a handle at the bottom of the panel and he pressed it to access the computer. The shield immediately rolled up to reveal a screen and keyboard.  “Look amigo … There’s a docking port for your gizmo about waist height. Can you see it?” “Yes.” Excitedly he replied. “Plug in your panel then.”  Fergus did so and suddenly a command bar appeared as the monitor pulled up a search request … ENTER ACCESS CODE.  He’d hacked into many a mechanism but this was something new to him. What was the code? he wondered. He looked at Murtagh who shrugged his shoulders.  “Now what?”  Fergus knew he was flying blind but when all else failed he reverted to the high security access code from the Vickers Log. “Nothing. Just wait.”  Punching in the code, he tapped his fingers anxiously while beside him Murtagh waited with bated breath. It seemed as if they waited an eternity but in a manner of seconds several windows appeared with the last one on the monitor screen reading … LIST DIRECTORY - FILE SET “Yes!” Murtagh also gave a slight “whoop” when he saw what was on the screen and watched as Fergus quickly keyed in the request instructions … JAMES FRASER’S MEDICAL RECORDS.

ACCESSING DIRECTORY appeared on the screen and once again the two men waited for the computer to process the demand. With eager eyes Murtagh and Fergus watched it search for Jamie's name to download the information. Suddenly, another window appeared but the information was not what they wanted. The emblazoned bright red letters of the warning icon were glaring, flashing a statement that nearly dashed their hopes. ACCESS DENIED. However, when other instructions appeared beneath the statement lettered in blue, they breathed a sigh hoping that the extra Intel would show how they could access what was denied them. Their hopes faded though, when it was apparent that what they sought was not possible. SECURITY LEVEL 9 - ERROR

Discouraged the two men felt downhearted as they stared at the screen in puzzlement. However, it was not at all surprising that Jamie's personnel information was restricted and only accessible by Operations or Madeline. It made perfect sense that this particular cold operative’s files would be the most difficult to access.

Fergus tried everything possible that he could think of to access the encrypted code that would let them view Jamie’s Intel … but to no avail.  “We tried Murtagh but without Level 9 authority there is no way we can ingress Jamie’s personal data.” After having come so far it was such a letdown that they were not able to get the Intel they wanted. 

“Yeah we did …  but … is there any other way around that Fergus? You’re Section’s resident IT genius, and your computer abilities are legendary, if anyone can hack into the codes you can buddy. You can hack intricate codes and find out anything and anybody. Can you work around this one?”

“I don’t know if that’s possible. I can give it one more try but gee Murtagh Level 9 that’s gonna be tough.”

“You can do it. You’re good at piggybacking onto obscure access codes,” Murtagh encouraged confident in his friend’s computer prowess. “Give it your best shot and no pressure amigo,” he added for good measure.

Fergus wracked his brain to come up with a solution that might work. He was so nervous that at first, he couldn’t think straight. He’d been able to hack into terrorists’ intel clandestinely many times and this should be a cakewalk if he was able to pull himself together first.  If he was able to break the code then they could also access Operations and Madeline’s records as well, but that would be dicing with abeyance if they were to find any intel that they shouldn’t.  However, they had come too far to stumble at the last hurdle so he had to give it his best shot.

Section’s computer expert was smart and resourceful and if anyone could break the access code it was him. He just had to have confidence in his abilities.  Fergus knew he could do it but he had to think on his feet. If he could outwit Operations and beat the system to succeed in this task, then they would have the data they needed for Dr. Foster. With a furrowed brow he set to the task at hand.

Murtagh stood by and watched his buddy as his fingers glided over the computer keyboard.  He could see that Fergus was concentrating on getting the right formula that would gain entrance to Jamie’s file and it was obvious that the wheels were spinning in his mind. Murtagh watched his friend vacillating at what he could do to break the code and he saw beads of perspiration dot his forehead as to what he could try and do.  However, Fergus would have to find something soon as time was of the essence.  Madeline and Operations would be finished in Committee at any moment and they needed to get out of here A.S.A.P.  Still, he had great faith in his little dynamo pal to be able to pull off the impossible.

Suddenly Fergus looked up at is buddy with a broad grin on his face.  

“You got something amigo?”

“I’m pretty sure this will work Murtagh but if this doesn’t, we have to go.”

“Sure thing.”

With a smile he couldn’t hide on his face, Fergus relayed, “I think I’ve got it.  It was so simple that it was staring me right in the face.  I was expecting it to be more complicated than it was and obviously Operations would never think that the anyone except him or Madeline would need the code.”

“Slow down, slow down Fergus!” Murtagh said as he saw the excited anticipation on the young techie’s face at having cracked the code.

“Operations put a firewall on the code which was much too easy to get around. He should have staggered it to create a series of traps that was impossible to break.”

“Well then.  That makes you better than the man who designed it.” Murtagh replied pleased as punch with Fergus’ skill.

“Let’s see what happens now,” he replied as he tried again. Following the same steps as before but only this time Fergus tapped in the code in reverse.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Yes!  You’re a genius Claudel,” Murtagh exclaimed as ACCESSING DIRECTORY appeared on the screen in front of them. In no time at all Jamie’s Medical and DNA records began appearing on the monitor. The two men quickly downloaded the intel to Fergus’ little pad but as more intel flashed onto the screen both men looked at each other with stunned expressions as one piece of information caught them by surprise.

“What the …?”  They both exclaimed at the same time giving each other an O.M.G. look.

James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser was Dougal and Colum Mackenzie’s nephew and their blood types were the same. No wonder this intel was classified and only Operations and Madeline could access it. Did Jamie even know he was related to Dougal?  They thought not.  Did that explain Operations contempt of Jamie because he was a better man, a better leader for Section One, than Dougal was?  This information was dynamite. They could use this intel to their advantage if needs be further down the track but for now, they both decided to sit on it until it may be needed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Still shell-shocked by their discovery Murtagh was the first to recover his composure. “Alright then. We’re done. Fold it up Fergus. Let’s go. I guess we better get out of here before we’re missed.”  Fergus pulled his gizmo out of the port, closed down the computer, lowered the shield and replaced everything as it was before leaving no clues that anyone had tried to attain entry to the classified material files. In a hurry to leave before both he and Murtagh were discovered, the two men then made their way to the exit but as soon as they left the room an alarm sounded. The piercing sound had them freezing in place.  “Do you hear that?” Fergus nervously asked knowing that their goose was cooked. They’d finally been discovered. There was no way that they’d be able to talk their way out of this one. “Yes, I hear it. They've added an egress code.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ However, Murtagh did not appear panicked. Remembering back to the days when Letitia was in charge of Section One, he’d been responsible for many a scenario such as what they now faced. There was a solution to their dilemma but they had to be quiet and they needed to get away from here A.S.A.P.

“In about ten seconds, two operatives should enter from the Southeast to check why the alarm was activated. So, we’ll go the other way.”  “Are you sure?” “Sure I’m sure.” Fergus gave him an evil eye look as if to say, you’ve gotta be joking. “This is a grade two breach Murtagh, they’ll close all entry and exit points.” “Trust me … I’ll get us out of here without being seen.” “I’m never going to forgive you if you get us killed Murtagh Fitzgibbons … remember that!”  Fergus was skeptical but what choice did he have but to put his blind faith in his friend.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ The two men scurried away down a corridor toward the Northwest as quietly as possible. No sooner had Fergus and Murtagh disappeared from sight than two operatives hurried down a circular set of stairs and converged on the room. Raising their weapons, they each took one side of the open door. Gavin Hayes nodded to the other operative and together they entered the room weapons at the ready. Finding it empty, they lowered their guns and surveyed the room. There was no evidence of any tampering with sensitive files, nothing appeared to be out of place and there were no clues left behind that they could act upon. The two operatives decided in order to maximize their chance of finding an intruder they would need to split up to search the corridors in different directions. If there was a trespasser in this area, they would find them soon enough as the only way anyone could escape from this room was to take either one or the other corridor. Hayes also called for back up to converge on the corridors from the egress point thus giving any intruder no way to avoid capture. Keith Lesley took off down the Northwest corridor in which Fergus and Murtagh had made their escape to search for the intruder but he was unaware that Hayes had unfortunately been left behind. His colleague had been trapped when the doors suddenly closed behind him before he was able to exit the room.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Perspiration poured off Fergus’ forehead and his nervousness was heightened every time he heard the slightest noise thinking that they had been discovered. However, unbeknownst to them, the two friends were doing a good job of eluding the operative who had come to investigate the breach. Nevertheless, Fergus was very uneasy and continually checked to make sure they were not being followed. He jumped at any little noise and kept his scanner at the ready to check for heat spots ahead and behind them.  “Murtagh!” He whispered anxiously looking scared. “Someone's coming.”  “How do you know?” “I’ve picked up an infra-red heat schematic. I'm tracking it. What do we do? What do we do?” He repeated with alarm lacing his voice. “Fergus, just stay calm.” With another panicked reply he blurted out. “I can't!” “Yes y'can. Listen to me carefully.” His buddy reassured him firmly. “Just keep calm and do exactly as I say.” They continually kept out of sight of the operative who had come their way keeping one step ahead of him at all times. The two friends entered a new winding corridor and raced along as quietly as they could until they came to dissecting passageways. Realising just where he was, Murtagh suddenly stopped. He looked to his left then he looked at the floor.  Fergus nearly ran into him. “What are you doing?” “Looking for something.” “Looking for what?” He asked incredulously aware that they were being followed and time was of the essence if they were to avoid being seen and detained. “Murtagh … we’re in dire straits here.” However, Fitzgibbons ignored his friend’s panicked pleas as he found what he was looking for… a small indentation on the wall. Identifying the panel, he pressed it, waited for the secret escape route to appear then ushered Fergus through.  “How? … How did you …?” Fergus mumbled surprisingly as the panel silently closed behind them separating them from the operative who was searching for them.  Murtagh raised an eyebrow in mock triumph. “I'm a rebel. When you’ve been hanging around this place as long as I … well you get my drift? … Now follow me.”  They walked over to some circular stairs that obviously led back to the top level. Making their way up they were soon back on an unsecured level. Once there, they righted their clothes. Relieved, Fergus wiped the sweat from his brow and Murtagh straightened his bandanna then they strolled off toward Section's Common Area, doing their best to act nonchalant.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Hot on the heels of the suspected intruder the operative turned the corner with his gun drawn, only to be surprised to find nothing and no one in the corridor. Perplexed he lowered his weapon and shook his head in disbelief. He thought that he’d been on to something but it had been a wild goose chase after all and he’d come up with no proof that there had ever been an intruder in this corridor. Perhaps it had been a false alarm. Other operatives soon approached from the dissected passageways but had nothing to report. They too had come up empty handed. Lesley then contacted his colleague.  “Hayes? Did you find anything?” “No … I’m trapped in the room.” “What?” “The door closed before I was able to escape. Did you see anyone in the Northwest corridor?” “No. No one.”  “What about the other operatives?” ‘No … nothing.” “You better report in then,” he replied unaware of the fate that would befall him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued on TUESDAY 5th May

[mdelpin]

The Red Dragon - Chapter 29

AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr: Ch1 | Ch28

Chapter 29

Since the moment Natsu had left to go talk to Gray, Igneel and Atlas had done nothing but read through old magic scrolls, trying to find anything that might help them figure out a way to permanently transform Gray into an ice dragon. Assuming Igneel’s theory of the boy possessing a dragon soul was correct.

The scrolls represented the collective magical knowledge accrued by the red dragons since time immemorial. Some of them were so old that they were only held together by the barest of magic. Every generation had added their own scrolls, and it had always fascinated Atlas to trace the magic back to the dragon that had created it.

Over the years, he and Igneel had added their own discoveries to the collection, and Atlas had held the hope that given his immense magical talent Natsu would someday do the same. Still, he knew that even if that happened, he would probably be the last red dragon to do so.

As hard as it was to accept, the fact remained that they were nearing the end of their existence. The red dragons had been the vanguard of the front lines and had been mostly obliterated during the war. There were less than a dozen left. Natsu would more than likely never father offspring, and their line of Royals would end with him.

Atlas looked up from the massive pile of scrolls he’d been studying, finally realizing it had been quite a while since Natsu had left.

“Aren’t you concerned Natsu isn’t back yet?” he asked Igneel, who was immersed in his own mountain of scrolls.

“Not really,” Igneel replied absently, “he and Gray had a lot to talk about. I think we both know if Acnologia had found them, he would’ve already come for us.”

Atlas grunted in agreement. He stared at the scrolls once again in frustration.

“Your research not going well?” Igneel peered at him.

“Not really, transformation magic is useless for all the reasons we’ve already discussed. Soul magic is more promising, but once again, there’s the energy problem, and I can’t find a way to generate the amount of energy needed.”

“I thought I told you not to worry about that.” Igneel reminded him, “I’ll come up with a way to get you the energy you need.”

“Yes, but you haven’t told me how you plan on doing that,” Atlas complained.

“I have a few ideas,” Igneel replied vaguely, “Have you figured out how to get a look at his soul?”

“Sure, that part’s easy, we just have to get him to astral project.”

“I don’t think that’s a skill humans are born with,” Igneel pointed out, “You’re going to have to teach him how to do so.”

“Me?” Atlas balked at the idea, “How am I supposed to teach him that? Can’t we just cast a spell on him or something?”

“Do you think he would trust anything that came from a spell he didn’t cast?” Igneel replied, “Would you?”

“No,” Atlas admitted grudgingly.

“Besides it would be good for the two of you to bury the hatchet. What did you do anyway?”

“Why do you automatically assume I was the one to do something?”

Igneel roared with laughter, “Are you saying you weren’t?”

“Well no, but would it kill you to give me the benefit of the doubt?” Atlas groused.

“Brother, I’ve known you for hundreds of years. What did you do?”

“I wanted to show Natsu that the boy had grown and could handle seeing dragons, so I showed myself to him.”

“As intelligent as you are, you can be such an idiot sometimes. Let me guess, he attacked you?”

“Something like that,” Atlas grumbled, looking embarrassed.

“Yes, I rather think teaching him how to astral project will be a good opportunity for the two of you to put aside your differences. He’ll be one of us soon enough.”

“You really think we’re going to be able to pull this off?”

“We have to, for Natsu’s sake.”

Atlas grunted, he wasn’t pleased with the idea of spending time with Gray, and he had no clue how to go about teaching a human how to astral project, but he would figure something out.

For Natsu’s sake.

0-0

Gray was a nervous wreck by the time they arrived at the cave’s back entrance. He was no less determined for them to stay together, especially after the last two weeks they had spent together.

However, telling Natsu he wanted to live with him and moving into a cave with four red dragons were two completely different things. Especially when he was well aware that at least two of them disliked him.

“It’s going to be fine, you’re their Dragon Queen, remember?” Natsu tried to get a rise out of him, no doubt feeling his nerves through their bond.

Now that everything had been sorted between them, Gray could feel his mate close to him at all times, and it was a wonderful feeling. They could send feelings back and forth and could communicate without speaking if they wanted. Although they hadn’t done it much yet, it was reassuring to know they could.

“Atlas and Happy aren’t going to like my living here,” Gray muttered.

“Well, you could always try to, I don’t know, apologize?” Natsu pointed out, “They’re not unreasonable, and if they don’t accept it, at least you tried. It’s all you can do, Ice Block.”

“Ugh, it’s gonna be so hot, isn’t it?”

Natsu laughed, “Yep, maybe I can try to do something about our room, Atlas might know of some magic to keep it cooler than the rest of the cave.”

“You think so?” Gray asked, hopefully.

“Anything’s possible, but he’s the magic expert, not me. Now come on, let’s get this over with, they’re all inside.”

They walked into the cave, and Gray was immediately amazed by how big it was. He’d only ever been in the front rooms, and as they walked past many of passages he’d never seen before, he could see that it would take him a while to find his way around without getting lost.

“This place is huge!”

“Yeah, all the red dragons used to live here, although most of them were already off fighting when I was little. I only ever met the ones who were close to my father.”

As they got closer, Gray became more and more nervous until he felt Natsu’s wing surround him in a hug.

“It’s going to be okay,” Natsu assured him with a smile, and with a spring in his step, he entered the main room, calling out, “We’re home!”

“Natsu!” Happy ran at them, attempting to tackle Natsu in a play fight as Gray skittered out of the way.

“Hey buddy, did you miss me?” Natsu laughed, letting the younger dragon lick his snout a few times before pushing him off.

“Natsu, you’re home!” Igneel entered the main room quickly, nodding at Gray in acknowledgment.

“Took you long enough,” Atlas grumbled, coming in behind Igneel. “What’s he doing here?”

“He’s going to be living here from now on,” Natsu explained, his tone of voice inviting no argument, “I would like it if you could please make him a bed and if you could do something to make the temperature in my room more comfortable for him, that would be great.”

“I will do my best to make our Queen comfortable.”

Natsu peered at Atlas in shock, even though his tone had been laced with sarcasm he still hadn’t expected him to be so agreeable, at the very least he’d expected some kind of pushback.

“Okaaaay, uhm, thanks,” Natsu replied, switching his attention to Igneel, who only gave him an indifferent shrug in response.

“Thank you,” Gray bowed his head at Atlas. “I want to apologize for how I treated you, I, uhm, -”

Atlas cut him off, “There’s no need to apologize, that was my fault. I thought you would be able to handle it. I was wrong.”

“Thanks?” Gray had no idea how else to respond to that. The dragon certainly wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t precisely make Gray feel like they had progressed any.

“I’ll go make your room more hospitable,” Atlas muttered as he left the main room and headed to Natsu’s bedroom, Happy trailing behind him and asking if he could make him a bed too.

“Did I do something wrong?” Gray wondered, confused by the dragon’s behavior.

“You’re fine,” Igneel chuckled, “Believe it or not, that’s as close to an apology as I’ve ever seen him get. His people skills are pretty much nonexistent, but I know he does regret causing you pain.”

Gray wasn’t entirely sure he believed that, but before he could give voice to his thought, he felt the heat of Igneel’s gaze on him, “I trust you were able to sort out your differences?”

Natsu nodded, “We have reached an understanding.”

“Wonderful! Make yourself at home Gray, and welcome to the family, odd as we are.” Igneel lowered his head in what appeared to be an act of respect. “I’m going to go supervise Atlas before he gets too creative.”

Natsu laughed heartily, and Gray tried to draw strength from it. Overall it had gone better than he expected, but he knew it would be a while before he felt comfortable in his new home.

“You should go see your friends,” Natsu encouraged, “They’re probably worried about you, plus you’ll need to get your stuff. I can meet you at the field later to help you move it.”

“They’re your friends too,” Gray reminded him. “Lyon and Erza know about what happened, I’m sure they’d like to see you.”

“I’ll think about it,” Natsu replied rather unconvincingly, refusing to meet Gray’s eyes.

“Natsu!” Gray demanded, waiting until the dragon met his gaze. “If I can accept you the way you are, don’t you think they could too?”

Natsu remained stubbornly silent, but Gray thought he noticed a slight softening of his expression. One that signified that his mate was indeed thinking about it.

Natsu hadn’t really changed all that much. He was just communicating in ways that Gray wasn’t familiar with. So over the last few weeks, he’d put considerable effort into learning to decipher the clues hidden within Natsu’s behavior. Studying his gestures and combining them with the emotions he could feel through their bond until he felt like he had reached a better understanding than he previously had.

“Do it for Erza,” Gray pushed, even though he knew it was a sore subject, “you’re the only one who has come back. Don’t you think you owe her some answers?”

“I don’t really think she’d like what I have to say,” Natsu replied and thinking over everything he’d learned Gray found he couldn’t really argue that point.

“Alright, I’ll leave it for now, I might as well go get their interrogation over with,” Gray remarked, sticking his tongue out at Natsu when he heard him respond Better you than me in his head.

Your time will come soon enough…, Gray mock threatened. He gave Natsu the closest thing to a hug he could manage, wrapping his arms around the dragon’s long neck, and smiling when he felt Natsu rubbing his head on his cheek.

After giving him a kiss on his snout that had Natsu purring, he exited the cave, beginning the long trek to the village.

Later, loser, Gray thought with a smile.

Try not to get killed, Princess.

Gray snorted at the retort, content in the knowledge that when he returned with his things, Natsu would be home to greet him.

0-0

“This is great, thank you,” Natsu praised Atlas when he saw the results of his uncle’s efforts.

When Natsu had realized he’d no longer be able to change back, he’d removed the contents of his room, not wanting a visual reminder of a life he could never have again. Atlas had made a bedroom for Gray, but he had put some thought into his interactions with Natsu.

He had made a bed similar to the ones Natsu preferred but had crafted it so that Natsu could easily curl around it, keeping Gray close to him while they slept. He had somehow also managed to lower the room temperature somewhat, enough so that Gray wouldn’t have to call on his magic to be comfortable.

Happy decided to move into Atlas quarters to help keep the temperature down, and probably to limit his contact with Gray. Ether way, Natsu was grateful.

Atlas had also crafted additional pieces of furniture to hold Gray’s things. There were shelves on a wall above a desk and chair, a wardrobe, and a dresser for his clothes. All organized in a way that would still make it easy for Natsu to move around the room.

Natsu couldn’t wait to see Gray’s reaction. It wasn’t exactly what they’d had in mind so long ago, but it was a home they could easily share, and right now, that was more important to both of them than anything else.

He was still thinking about what it might be like when Igneel interrupted him.

“Gray is going to be gone for a while,” Igneel noted, “and I’ve missed you. How would you like to go flying with me for a little bit?”

Natsu felt the excitement creep up his spine. It was rare that Igneel asked to do stuff together.

“Sure!”

He followed his father out the back entrance, and soon they were in the air, flying side-by-side. Close enough their wings almost touched.

“Did you tell him everything?” Igneel asked, and Natsu immediately knew what he was referring to.

“Yeah, he knows about your part in what happened in Isvan,” Natsu revealed, “He doesn’t hold you responsible, though.”

“That’s a relief. Was it your idea to have him live with us?”

“No. To be honest, I was surprised when he suggested it. I didn’t think it was a good idea, but Gray wants us to fulfill our vows regardless of our situation. I just hope it won’t be too much for him to bear.” Natsu confessed, expressing his fear for the first time.

“He’s a strong man,” Igneel reminded him, “I’m really quite proud of the both of you for coming this far.”

Natsu still felt embarrassed over some of the decisions he had made, but he knew he had to put them behind him. Regardless of how they’d turned out, he’d done his best to protect Gray, and he’d have to be satisfied with that.

“Where are we going?”

“Remember that place Atlas and I used to take you when you were little?”

Natsu paid more attention to where they were going and noticed the outline of the mountains where his father and uncle had taught him fire dragon magic. It was also where they’d taught him to hunt and fish, and he grew excited to experience it again, this time as a dragon.

They hunted, more for sport than out of any real hunger, but they ate everything anyway, finding it disrespectful to not consume what they had killed. Igneel looked tired, so Natsu suggested they rest atop one of the mountains surrounding the lake basin where they had often fished. They lay side by side, listening to the sounds of nature all around them.

“Your mother would have liked it here, I think,” Igneel remarked, breaking the comfortable silence. Natsu held his breath, afraid that if he made a sound, his father would stop talking.

“There were so many things I wanted to show her, but there just wasn’t enough time,” Igneel sighed. “Let that be a lesson to you, son, don’t put things off. You never know when your time is going to come to an end. Human lives are fragile.”

“What was she like?” Natsu couldn’t help but ask, hoping that this time his father would answer.

Igneel closed his eyes, and Natsu was disappointed, thinking the topic was over. That was until he heard a grunt right before an image projected itself in front of them. One of a young man and woman running across the very field that Natsu and Gray had spent so much time on. Natsu recognized the man as the one his father had turned into when taking Utari into the village, and the woman, who wore a scarf he knew very well, was clearly the one in the picture Anna had shown him.

“I remember everything,” Igneel admitted, “I know I should have shared this with you sooner, but I- I hope you can understand.”

Natsu nodded absently, transfixed by what he was seeing.

They were both laughing, Igneel tackling Porlyusica to the ground. Natsu watched his parents look into each other’s eyes and smile with a joy he instantly recognized. Two souls combined into one.

The image faded to be replaced with a hundred others, each a small glimpse into his parents’ life together until Porlyusica appeared before them with a swollen belly.

Igneel let these linger the longest, and Natsu watched as his mother appeared to be talking and singing to him. He observed her wonder and joy at his kicks and the awe on his father’s face whenever he looked at her. After all these years, Natsu was finally able to sate the hunger he’d always felt for the mother he’d never known.

He knew the end was near, but he couldn’t look away, watching his entrance into the world with a heavy heart, knowing the price that had been paid. Tears streamed down his face as he watched his mother hold him for the first and last time. She kissed his head and whispered something to him before the image faded away.

“What did she say?” Natsu asked nervously.

“She said, I love you,” Igneel said simply, lowering his head. Natsu could see the slight shuddering of his body that announced the coming of tears his father didn’t want him to see.

That was all it took to break him, years of guilt overwhelming him with a sadness he couldn’t contain.

“I’m so sorry,” Natsu sobbed, “I took her away from you.”

“You did no such thing,” Igneel chided, straightening up so that he could rub his head against his son’s, their tears mingling briefly before evaporating. “Your mother knew what could happen, Natsu. She made her choice, and she never regretted it, and as devastated as I was by her death, I never regretted it either.”

“We both loved you,” Igneel smiled through his tears, swishing his tail until it was petting Natsu’s back, “from the moment we learned of your existence. And when I see her again, I’m going to tell her all about you. So that she can be as proud of you as I am.”

“I am so sorry for all the times I failed you over the years. I thought I was protecting you,” Igneel declared, “but that was never what you needed. I realize that now, and I promise I will do everything in my power to get you what you do need. You’ve suffered long enough.”

Natsu wasn’t entirely sure what his father meant by that, but he filed it away for later, content to bask in his father’s love. He closed his eyes, holding on to the image of his mother holding him in her arms.

0-0

Gray stood at the entrance to the Guard Headquarters feeling oddly nervous. He knew his decision to live with Natsu would come as a surprise to his friends, but he was still confident it was the right one. They had already been forced to spend too much time apart over the years.

The knowledge that Natsu could live for hundreds of years weighed on him deeply, and it filled him with a determination to spend as much time with him as possible. It would be an adjustment, but as far as he was concerned, he’d already made the biggest one in accepting Natsu as he was.

He was about to open the door when he was hugged from behind. Turning his head to see who it was, he was surprised to recognize Juvia and stiffened slightly.

Not this again.

“Juvia is so glad to see Gray is safe. We were so worried!”

Juvia let go of him, blushing prettily as she realized she might have overstepped.

“Sorry,” she apologized.

“That’s okay,” Gray smiled, feeling slightly less uncomfortable now that he recognized she hadn’t reverted to her old ways.

He finally opened the door for both of them and waved goodbye to Juvia before entering the changing room for the male guards. After taking his first real shower in weeks, he changed into his uniform, and once he deemed himself presentable, ventured out to look for Erza and his brother.

He found both of them in Erza’s office, where they were preparing for the daily briefing. Gray grinned, noting how closely they were standing together even while talking about work.

“Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

They both looked up at the same time, their eyes widening into matching surprised expressions.

“Gray!”

They both rushed at him, and Gray soon found himself sandwiched in their embrace. He couldn’t help but smile.

He was home.

Erza left for a few minutes to issue some orders but soon returned, and together they made their way to the lake where they sat on a blanket Lyon had grabbed from Erza’s office.

“Were you able to talk some sense into him?” Lyon asked, studying him intently. What he was looking for exactly, Gray wasn’t sure.

“It wasn’t easy, but we talked sense into each other,” Gray amended. His eyes met Lyon’s, “We went to Isvan and back to where we first met.”

“That must have been hard,” Lyon observed.

“It was, but I think we both needed to see it. To really understand where we were each coming from and begin to move forward.”

“I’d like to talk to him,” Erza spoke so softly Gray almost didn’t hear her.

“I know, I’m trying, but he’s still resistant to the idea. I think he’s embarrassed at having lied to you for so long,” Gray confided, “I also think he’s nervous about how you will react. He cares about you a lot, and he’s already lost so much.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Erza protested, “I don’t care about that. He was only doing what his father asked. I understand that better than anyone and Natsu is Natsu no matter what guise he’s in, we’ve known each other most of our lives.”

“Just give him some time,” Gray advised, “I think he’ll come around, but it’s too soon to push.”

“Of course,” Erza agreed, “I apologize.”

“It’s just... he saved my life. I didn’t really think about it until after you left, but if he hadn’t shown up when he did-,” Erza shifted her gaze towards the lake, “I never got a chance to thank him.”

“Give him time,” Gray repeated, “I’m sure he’ll come around.” He reached out to squeeze her hand and felt her squeeze back.

“So are you back for good? It feels like you’re working your way up to something,” Lyon noted, as observant as always.

“Yeah, for the most part,” Gray avoided looking at Lyon, “I’m moving out of town, I’ve convinced Natsu to let me live with him.”

He waited for the protests that never came, confused until he saw Lyon and Erza gazing at each other with fond smiles.

“We expected as much,” Lyon clarified with a smirk, “You’ve waited for him for a very long time. You should do whatever works for both of you. God knows this situation is messed up as it is.”

“Yes,” Erza agreed, “You deserve to be happy. Are you planning on staying on as a guard?”

“For now,” Gray confirmed, not really knowing what the future had in store or if he’d have to move to that island Natsu had told him about at some point.

“Then we are happy to have you back. Now, since you have just returned from a two-week vacation, I’ll expect you to cover some shifts for the guards that had to work extra shifts during your absence,” Erza intoned, beginning to outline his schedule for the next two weeks.

“Starting tomorrow,” Erza flashed him a sheepish smile, “You may have the rest of today to move your stuff to your new home.”

Gray groaned, but then again, it’s not like he’d expected any different, and he was grateful that they had accepted his decision without argument. He waved goodby and headed to his apartment to pack the things he wanted to move to his new home.

0-0

It had been an unusually hot summer, and Gray had come to depend on the relief that the cooler temperature in their room provided him, as the rest of the cave was much too hot for his comfort. He and Natsu spent most of their time lounging in there, or outside.

Nights when he couldn’t sleep, Natsu would fly them to different places, often stopping atop snow-capped mountains to let Gray revel in the cold temperatures, so different from their cave.

It was mid-August when Gray arrived home after working a double shift to find Natsu waiting for him in their bedroom. There was something in his demeanor that made Gray uneasy, and he collapsed on his bed, too worn out from the long workday and the walk back from town to do anything more than wait for Natsu to get whatever it was off his chest.

“I’m going to have to leave in a couple of days,” Natsu began, narrowing his eyes as he took in Gray’s exhaustion.

“What?” Gray protested, “Already?”

Natsu had mentioned that he would have to go on one of his trips to the mysterious dragon island soon, and no amount of arguing or pleading on his part would get him to agree to let him come along.

“Yes, I’ve already put it off for too long.” Natsu admitted, “Belserion is very unhappy with me, things are happening that need my attention.”

“Why can’t I go with you? I can just stay with the dragon slayers.”

“I’ve already told you, humans are not allowed there.”

“Then why are the dragon slayers there?” Gray pointed out hoping to get through Natsu’s stubbornness even though he’d already tried this tactic several times before.

“They are there with their parents, and I’m not even sure how much longer they’ll be able to stay, that’s just one of the many things that I need to deal with.”

“I thought you said I was their Queen,” Gray crossed his arms in annoyance.

“You are my Queen, and those close to me will respect that, but that won’t get you very far on that island. If enough dragons were against it, your presence could start a civil war.”

“My father worked very hard to make this truce happen. Please, Gray, don’t fight me on this,” Natsu’s eyes were imploring as he explained his feelings.

“How long would you be gone?” Gray sighed in defeat.

Natsu’s grin was instantaneous, “Only a month.”

“A month?! You’re not going alone, are you?” Gray charged, aware as always that Acnologia was still out there somewhere.

“No, Happy is coming with me, in case I need to bring the slayers home. Plus, he always cheers Rogue up.”

“Are you going to talk to Sting?” Gray pressed his luck, knowing that this was one particular topic that usually caused Natsu to shut down, and as expected, he didn’t answer.

“Fine, I won’t push,” Gray sighed, choosing to let it go. The truth was he wasn’t too sure how he felt about Sting either, so he couldn’t precisely fault Natsu for his stance. “But if you’re going to be gone for a month, I demand cuddles. Now. Lots of them.”

Natsu pretended to be annoyed by his demands, but they both knew he loved any physical closeness they could manage just as much as Gray did. He curled up around Gray’s body, holding him as close as he could, and they spent a long night nuzzling and talking.

If only it were enough, Gray thought sadly.

0-0

Two days later, he watched Natsu take off with Happy. Natsu had promised to let them know when he arrived safely, although he hadn’t really explained how he was going to manage that, and Gray couldn’t help but worry.

It must have shown on his face because Igneel immediately attempted to assure him, “He’s made that trip many times, Gray. Happy too. They’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” Gray replied, hating how scared his voice sounded.

“What about you?” Igneel asked, “What are your plans? Will you stay with us while he’s gone?”

Gray nodded, they were in the middle of a heatwave. As hot as it was outside, their bedroom in the cave was more refreshing than his apartment, plus he wanted to be close to where he could get news of his husband.

It made him nervous, though. This would be the first time he would be alone with the other dragons. Igneel always seemed happy to talk to him, but Atlas was another story. They hadn’t really had much contact since he had moved in, the dragon keeping to his room most of the time, making Gray wonder if it was because of his presence.

He determined to make an effort to come to some sort of understanding with the hellfire dragon, knowing it would make Natsu happy.

He swallowed the last vestiges of fear he felt toward Atlas and bravely addressed him, letting his curiosity guide him.

“How is it that Natsu will let you know when he arrives?” he asked, wondering if it was something he could also do.

“Astral projection,” Atlas answered in a bored tone.

“Astral projection?” Gray repeated with no clue what it meant. He looked at both dragons wanting to hear more, but the combined heat they gave off was already working against him.

“Perhaps we should continue this conversation in your room,” Igneel suggested kindly.

Gray nodded gratefully, immediately feeling better once they were inside his bedroom. He sat in his desk chair, peering at Atlas expectantly, waiting for an explanation.

“It’s a way for the soul to temporarily separate from the body, allowing it to travel and enter the astral realm. So even if Natsu is far away, my soul can travel to his, and we can communicate briefly.”

“So your soul would travel to the island?”

“No, it would meet Natsu on the astral realm.”

“Perhaps you could explain it in a way that he might understand better?” Igneel suggested drily.

“Fine,” Atlas huffed, turning his attention to Gray.

“All living creatures are made up of two main components, the physical and the astral. Your body is the physical, it houses your soul and allows it to interact with objects in this plane. Does that make sense?”

“Sort of, but what is the soul exactly?”

“That’s a little more difficult to explain, but basically it’s what defines who you are. You will live and die many times throughout your existence, but you will retain the same soul, it will just move to a new body and begin the cycle again. You might change gender or physical attributes from life to life, but your most basic characteristics will always remain the same.”

Gray thought about that, and as he did, he noticed Atlas and Igneel holding a silent conversation he wasn’t entirely sure he should interrupt.

“So the soul is capable of leaving the body?” Gray finally asked, tired of waiting.

“Yes,” Igneel replied, “With enough practice, the body can be trained to temporarily release its hold on the soul. It remains tethered but is free to explore on its own.”

“Could I, uhm, could I do that? Talk to Natsu while he’s away, I mean.” Gray puzzled, the whole idea sounded a little scary to him, but it’s not like he had a whole lot of anything else to do for the next month, and it would be fun to surprise him.”

“How should we know?” Atlas grumbled moodily, “you’d have to try. Do you know anything about meditation?”

Gray shook his head, “Would it be dangerous?”

“No,” Igneel assured him, “It’s quite safe. As I said, your soul remains tethered to your body, and that connection can only be broken in death.”

“It’s not a very effective method of communication, but since my telepathy can’t reach him where he is, it’s all we have.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, to be able to communicate with Natsu, he’d have to also be projecting at the same time. Usually, it would be a lot of trial and error, but Atlas taught Natsu some magic, which allows him to sort of tug at his soul to alert him when he’s trying to communicate with us. Then Atlas and I can meet him on the astral plane.”

“There’s an astral plane?” Gray was fascinated by everything he’d heard, having never known about any of these things before. He wondered if Ur had been aware of any of this.

“You don’t need to worry about any of that. I doubt you’ll be able to project in this room, let alone go to the astral plane” Atlas scoffed.

Gray huffed at the disdain he heard in the hellfire dragon’s voice, “I’ll have you know I’m a swift learner.”

“Is that so? Well then, if you can manage to do that much, I’ll teach you how to reach the astral plane myself,” Atlas’ contemptuous laugh echoed around them, making Gray want nothing more than to make the dragon eat his words.

But it turned out he wouldn’t have to wait long to see him knocked down a peg,

“Why wait?” Igneel declared, startling the both of them, “You might as well teach him from the beginning. You could start now.”

“What?!” Atlas sputtered at his brother’s words, “Surely you’re joking?”

It was hard to miss the glee in Igneel’s eyes at his brother’s reaction, and Gray found himself smirking in response.

“Not at all, who is better suited to teach him? You teach Natsu magic all the time,” Igneel reminded him.

“Yes, but Natsu listens to instruction,” Atlas pointed out, “I’m not sure about this one.”

“I already told you, I am a quick learner. Assuming you are any good at teaching that is,” Gray taunted, determined to prove Atlas wrong.

“Well then, no time like the present,” Igneel encouraged them, “Try not to kill each other.”

It was only when he noticed the satisfied glances the two dragons flashed each other that Gray realized he’d been had. He just wasn’t sure to what purpose.

He tried not to worry about it too much. After all, if he managed to learn how to do this, he’d be able to see Natsu while he was gone, and that was surely worth it.

0-0

“Do you even know the meaning of the word relax?” Atlas snipped for the fourth time in the last ten minutes.

It so wasn’t worth it.

Atlas was demanding, and he rarely handed out compliments. He was long-winded in his explanations and quick to anger. There had been at least three different occasions when Gray had wished he could manage to freeze the hellfire’s snout shut.

“How can I relax with you constantly breathing down my neck?” Gray snapped, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to calm himself down.

They engaged in a staring contest, both glaring until Atlas decided to back down.

“Natsu had a hard time at first too,” Atlas chuckled, and it was hard to miss the affection in the gravelly voice. “He’s always had a hard time sitting still, especially to do something as stupid as breathing. His words, not mine.”

Gray grinned, that definitely sounded like his Flame-Brain. He willed himself to loosen up, knowing he’d make no progress until he did. Atlas was at least right about that much.

“I know you don’t think very much of me, Gray, but remember this at least. As different as we are, we share one significant thing in common. We both love Natsu very much.”

“I know,” was the best reply Gray could come up with, surprised as he was by the dragon’s attempt to get through to him. “I’m trying.”

“Alright then, Natsu got the hang of it eventually, so can you. Let’s try again, empty your mind of everything except breathing.”

Gray chose to move to his bed, figuring if he was going to remain seated for so long that he might as well get comfortable. Emptying his mind of any extraneous thought, he closed his eyes and began to focus on his breathing.

Time had ceased to exist, there was only the briefest of gaps as one breath flowed into the next. Gray had never considered how exhausting breathing was, one breath following another over and over with no end in sight. A simple action, quickly taken for granted until you were forced to account for every one.

He thought he felt something shift inside him but couldn’t risk the distraction. There was an audible gasp next to him, and he opened his eyes slowly. He couldn’t remember getting up, but there was Atlas encased in his flames as always, although Gray felt they looked somehow different.

Atlas pointed at Gray’s bed, confusing him, but he complied, turning his head to see what the dragon wanted him to see. He was able to see his body sitting on the bed, which seemed a strange thing for it to do without him.

The moment it dawned on him that he’d finally succeeded in projecting himself out of his body, he felt himself careening back into it.

“I did it?” Gray asked, puzzled as to what had just happened.

Rather than answering him, Atlas began to yell. “Igneel! You need to get in here.”

Gray was still trying to suss out why Atlas was acting so strangely when Igneel hurried in.

“Is something wrong?”

“Just the opposite, you were right,” Atlas began to pace around the room. “Tiamat’s tits, we might be able to pull this off after all!”

“Did he see it?” Igneel asked, looking just as excited as Atlas until Gray couldn’t take much more.

“See what? Will one of you tell me what the hell you’re going on about?”

“If you can manage to do it again, you’ll see for yourself,” Atlas smirked in challenge.

It took a long time to quiet his racing heart, but he found it wasn’t as hard to fall into the rhythm he’d achieved earlier now that he understood what to do. It still took a rather long time to feel that shift once again.

Once he did, he opened his eyes, feeling more confident, knowing that he had achieved this once already.

He saw both Igneel and Atlas standing a ways from him, although they looked almost shimmery, like what he imagined ghosts would look like. Atlas smiled at him encouragingly, which was already surreal, considering how the hellfire dragon had been acting all day.

But Igneel was gawking at him, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. Gray went to rub his neck as he often did when he was confused, only to find that his neck seemed longer than usual.

He looked down at himself and startled. He felt his soul start to move back towards his body, but he actively fought it. As much as he was having trouble believing what he saw, he wanted to get a clearer picture.

Gray managed to move until he found himself in front of the mirror that hung above his dresser. He could rather understand Igneel’s reaction now, seeing as he was having a somewhat similar one himself. The face he had seen reflected back at him more times than he could ever care to count was nowhere to be found. There was the face of what could only be an ice dragon staring back at him in its place.

About the only thing he recognized was the eyes, which looked much the same as they always had, despite being almost comically large in his alarm. Spiky horns seemingly made of ice protruded from his navy blue colored head, and as Gray lifted his hand to touch them, he realized that his hands had somehow transformed into talons.

That was too much for him to handle. He slammed back into his body so hard it fell back on the bed.

“What the hell was that?” Gray spluttered, quickly standing up and moving away from the two fire dragons.

“What did you do to me? What kind of magic was that?” He yelled at Atlas. His heart was racing so fast he swore he could hear the blood traveling through it.

“I didn’t do anything,” Atlas protested.

“Gray, listen to me,” Igneel interrupted, keeping his voice level. “He really didn’t do anything but teach you the barest minimum of how to astral project. I am sorry we had to trick you, but I needed to know whether my hunch was right.”

“What hunch?” Gray’s eyes darted from one dragon to the other.” What are you talking about?”

“When you came here looking for Natsu, you didn’t set off any of the protection sigils we had on the entrances. Sigils that are designed to alert us of a human entering the cave. At first, I thought that was because you were soul-bonded to Natsu, but I realized it wasn’t possible. Natsu had damaged your bond so much that the sigils wouldn’t have been able to detect his soul at all.”

Gray peered at Igneel uncomprehendingly.

“So there had to be another reason,” Igneel gazed at him with concern, “Why don’t you sit down? This is a lot to take in.”

Gray shook his head, “Just tell me what this means.”

“It means you have a dragon soul,” Atlas explained, for once getting straight to the point. “You are a dragon that was reborn as a human.”

A/N: Thank you all for being so patient! It's been a rough few months, but things are starting to look up and I was able to finally devote some time to this story. I am not sure when the last chapter will be up as I have not started working on it yet, and both the Pride event and Gratsu Summer Solstice events are coming up in June and Gratsu Week and Slayer Week in July. Hopefully by the end of the summer!

@ao3feed-gratsu​

[krsnlove]

Butterflies

A/N: Prompt from @alj4890

Pairing: Amanda[OC] x Elliott [OC], Liam x Riley, Drake x Olivia, Maxwell

Rating: PG

Tagging: @alj4890 @thecordoniandiaries @vickypoochoices @cora-nova @darley1101

Amanda studied her reflection in the mirror before frantically shaking her head. She slipped off the millionth dress she’s tried on tonight in a fit of frustration. The pile of clothes on her bed, chaise lounge, and floor seemed to grow as the big hand on the clock nearby ticked away. Nothing in her closet seemed right.

Not for tonight anyway.

A groan escaped her mouth as she searched her closet for a dress to wear. It was too late to stop by the boutique and she mentally chastised herself for allowing time to get away from her. Of all the days to be running late, it had to be today.

A rapid knock on her bedroom door startled the Duchess of St. Orella. Peeved at the disturbance of her search, Amanda grudgingly opened the door.

“Yes?,” her words came out with a touch of annoyance she immediately regretted once she saw the figure standing there. Her long-time butler stood at the door with a garment bag. He quickly gave her a short bow and handed her a sealed envelope before inviting himself into the room.

“For you, my Lady,” he announced as he delicately laid the closed garment bag on her bed. Amanda stared at the familiar hand-writing on the envelope and looked at her butler.

“Is there anything else I may assist you with?,” he asked. Amanda narrowed her eyes at him. She could see his attempts at hiding a smile but knew better than to pester him with questions. She sighed and let out a small chuckle before dismissing him and turned her attention to the envelope in her hand.

“What are you up to,” she murmured to herself. Opening the envelope Amanda ran her hand over the stationery on the sheet of paper folded in half. She read the words out loud to no one in particular:

“Saw this in a shop and thought of you. I bet myself you’d look stunning in this. Try to prove me wrong tonight?

-Elliott”

Amanda grinned to herself, rereading the note a few times before pressing the sheet of paper to her chest. Elliott was always doing something to make her swoon, as much as she despised that word and action. It was almost ridiculous how romantic the man is. Even from their first encounter, it seemed to be straight out of those cheesy romantic movies.

Her hands glide over the garment bag before pulling on the zipper. The sight of the beautiful royal blue gown carefully tucked inside stunned her for a moment. She holds the dress in front of her and takes in the features. The high slit bottom and low-cut top in a v-shape made the dress both complicated and elegant. It was perfect for tonight. The fact Elliott remembered her house colors made her involuntarily sigh.

Excitedly, she carefully slipped into the dress and made the final adjustments to her hair and make-up.

1 HOUR LATER

Amanda sucked in her breath and slowly exhaled as she descended the spiral staircase of her home. Tonight’s charity ball for Cordonia’s orphanages had taken weeks to plan but the outcome was always worth it when she would see the smiling faces of the children the money would be helping. It was a cause Amanda held close to her heart and always made her anxious.

But tonight’s gathering gave her another reason to worry over. She had invited Elliott to attend and he accepted. It would be his first at a Cordonian court event and him escorting her tonight would confirm the gossip that surrounded their relationship in the press.

It had been a few months when Elliott McKingley boldly asked her on a date and Olivia agreeing on Amanda’s behalf. Since then the days were filled with text messages and phone calls or video chats. Dates were random as Elliott’s main offices are located in New York City, a fact Amanda didn’t like to be reminded of, but being CEO of a Fortune 500 company made it both easier and more difficult for him to visit Cordonia.

She moves closer to the bottom of the staircase where Elliott’s handsome face is waiting for her. The black and white tuxedo he has on seemed to be made just for him as it tailored to his masculine body perfectly. His black curly hair is brushed to the side and the dangerous dimpled grin on his face completed his look. Amanda tried to hide her giddy smile sensing his eyes on her, watching every single move she made. Until finally, she reaches the bottom of the staircase.

“It’s exhausting being right, you know that?,” Elliott asked with an arrogant grin. Amanda let out a hopeless sigh followed by a small chuckle. “You look better than I envisioned in that dress,” he leaned in and softly grazed her cheek with his lips and suddenly her knees felt like jello.

“You clean up nice,” she looked down at his tuxedo. Elliott gave a small bow and then began to do a series of poses in his suit. Heads turned in their direction as Amanda’s laughter filled the hall before she clamped her own hand over her mouth.

“Come on. We have to get in there. We have the first dance,” she nodded her head towards the ball room. Elliott stood up straight and held out his arm for her before leading her into the room with the waiting guests.

“That’s my doing right there,” Olivia said with a smirk as she nodded towards the waltzing couple in the middle of the floor. Drake looked over at Elliott and Amanda before shrugging his shoulders.

“And that’s my doing over there,” he nodded towards Liam and Riley. “Which is better cause Liam outranks some average CEO from America.”

“Amanda outranks some waitress from America,” she shot back.

“Touché. But now that she’s a Queen,” he gave her pitiful smile, “mine outrank yours.” He tipped his glass to her in salute before taking a sip.

“Is everything a competition with you two?,” Maxwell asked with a touch of annoyance in his voice. Olivia opened her mouth to return a scathing reply but soon feels Drake’s hand on her thigh tighten its hold. Glancing at him sideways, he shakes his head no, and she closes her mouth but not before letting out a grunt of frustration.

“Oh look. Liam and Riley are joining Amanda. Let’s go,” Drake’s forced enthusiasm isn’t lost on either Olivia or Maxwell as Drake begins to pull her towards the middle of the dance floor.

“You know he’s still having a hard time with this,” Drake tells Olivia in a whispered voice as they move away from Maxwell.

“It isn’t my fault. He had the chance,” she whispered back. “It’s been months. He needs to move on!”

“I know that ‘Liv,” Drake’s voice is barely above a whisper now, “but let the man come to terms with this on his own without your gloating.”

Olivia begins to notice the stares from nearby couples at their harshly whispered conversation and purposely glares back in return. Since she and Drake have become a bit friendlier with each other these past few months, the gossip surrounding their relationship ran rampant.

“Duchess,” Drake’s voice softened causing Olivia to look back at him. “Do we agree? No more conversations about Amanda and the average looking American?”

The side of her lips turned upwards into a small grin. Drake could never acknowledge how handsome Elliot is much to her amusement. She leaned closer into him until her lips are inches from his ear.

“Okay Walker,” she whispered seductively, “but if you ever silence me again like you did earlier,” she paused for effect allowing the closeness fill her senses and tightened her hold on him, “I’ll destroy you.”

Drake grinned at the threat and looked into her eyes, “Is that a promise?”

A few feet away Elliott and Amanda watch the interaction between the infamous duo.

“What do you think they’re talking about?,” he asked.

“Knowing those two,” Amanda answered with a raised eyebrow, “Olivia probably threatened Drake and he’s loving it.”

“You have weird friends,” Elliot mused. Amanda elbowed his side emitting a small cough from his lips. “Pointy Elbows 3 Ribs 0,” he commented once he was able to find his voice.

Before Amanda has the chance to apologize she sees Adelaide charging towards them. Her eyes solely focused on Elliott.

“Lady Amanda!,” Adelaide greeted her and allowed herself to tear her eyes away from Elliott. “This is a lovely event. I’m sure we’ll be able to donate a large sum of money to the orphanages tonight,” she said before turning to Elliott. “And who do we have here?”

“This is a very good friend of mine,” Amanda began to make introductions and it wasn’t long before Adelaide coaxed Elliott into asking her for a dance.

“Will you be okay?,” Elliott asked in a low voice. Amanda let out a small chuckle at his genuinely concerned look.

“I’ve been to a million of these events. I’ll be fine sitting out for one dance,” she told him. “It might be even more,” she teased once she noticed Adelaide impatiently waiting nearby.

“I’ll be right back,” he called over his shoulder while being pulled in the opposite direction.

Amanda kept her laugh to herself as she watched Adelaide dance with Elliott. A few times he had to move her roaming hands back up to his shoulders until she finally pulled him into a close hug. She shook her head no when Elliott looked over to her and mouthed the words ‘help’ when Adelaide tugged him close.

“You look wonderful tonight Amanda,” she turned around to the sound of the familiar voice. Maxwell stood  with a champagne glass in an all black tuxedo looking handsome as ever.

“Thanks Maxwell,” she greeted him with a smile, “You don't look bad yourself.”

“I try,” he said attempting a smile.

“Are you enjoying yourself tonight?,” she asked.

“I am. Annica won’t stop talking about how beautiful everything looks. You’ve really outdone yourself this year.”

“I’m glad she approves. Leave it to you to date Cordonia’s number one interior designer and to bring her tonight no less,” she teased. Maxwell let out a laugh and shrugged his shoulders.

“But I can’t take credit for all of this. Elliott has been such a huge help too. I think most of tonight’s success is because of him.”

Maxwell nodded his head and said nothing. It was proving difficult nowadays to not hear about Elliott.

“He’s lucky to have you,” Maxwell said in a low voice. Amanda acknowledged his statement with a small nod letting her gaze settle on Elliott.

“He is, isn’t he?,” she agreed with a teasing smile.

Maxwell follows her gaze to the American who has stolen her away from him. The one who was able to capture Amanda’s heart. The one who succeeded where he failed.

“Maxwell...,” her voice cut through his thoughts. He notices the troubled look on her face and gives her a reassuring smile.

“I’m okay,” he automatically replies.

“Are you?”

“I’m always okay Amanda,” he said before taking a sip from his champagne glass. “You look happy and that is what always mattered to me.”

“Maxwell,” her voice broke for a moment and she hesitated before continuing, “Please know...I never meant to hurt you.”

He flashed her a small smile and closed the distance between them until she was within his reach. Allowing himself to take in her facial features, the same ones he took for granted before and now haunted him in his dreams, he leaned in and whispered into her ear.

“You could never hurt me ‘Manda,” he said right before placing a kiss on her cheek. “You’ll always be my girl.”

[johaerys-writes]

Dorian x Tristan Trevelyan

Chapter 2: Casual Acquaintances

Where Tristan has a drink and a friendly conversation with Dorian at the tavern. Or is it more than friendly? 

Read here or on AO3!

**********************************

The Singing Maiden was a modest establishment. No; it was more than modest. Tristan wouldn’t exactly call it a hovel, but it was dangerously close. It was certainly much, much humbler than even the most run-down pubs in Ostwick, those by the docks that were occupied almost exclusively by dock workers, sailors and underground fighters. Tristan had spent most of his younger years playing Wicked Grace at their greasy tables, and drunkenly singing sea shanties with weather beaten sailors lacking most of their teeth.

Another lifetime, it seemed. A small wave of nostalgia rushed through him, but he brushed it away hastily. These memories might as well have belonged to a different person. Besides, the ale at the Singing Maiden wasn’t half bad.

He nodded a greeting at Flissa, the barkeep, who was wiping a mug with a cloth that had seen better days. She flashed him a cheerful grin, one that made her round and rosy face look even wider. She wasn’t the only one that had noticed his arrival. As soon as he stepped in and closed the door, the hazy murmurs from the occupied tables came to an abrupt stop. Several pairs of eyes turned towards him. Some of them he recognised; two mages and four apprentices that he had met at the Gull and Lantern at Redcliffe Village. He could not quite remember their names- he was never any good with names- but their faces, he couldn’t forget.

They had seemed so anxious and forlorn back then, staying in a crowded inn under Fiona’s command, with Alexius and the Venatori breathing down their necks. Now, they smiled and greeted him quite formally, bowing their heads and calling him by his title, and something akin to awe and respect flashed in their eyes. He returned their greeting with one of his customary sharp nods. Tristan didn’t think he would ever get comfortable with people looking at him that way; in his eyes, he had done nothing more than what needed to be done; end the war and give the mages the freedom they deserved. Not everyone agreed with that, of course, but at least the mages that were now peering at him so fondly seemed to think he had done quite well.

The three Templars sitting just across from them were much more reserved. They didn’t make a show of bowing and greeting him, like the mages had. They simply murmured a sullen “Herald” and returned to their hushed conversation. Tristan barely acknowledged their greeting as he walked towards an empty seat. If anything, they had made it quite clear what they thought of him and his decisions.

Dorian was sitting by a small table next to the small, foggy window. The view from it was nothing to write home about, but it provided sufficient light. Tristan dragged a chair back, its legs scraping the old, dusty floorboard, and sat across from him.

“You look positively dreary.”

Despite the heat in the room, Dorian was tightly wrapped in his thick, woollen cloak. He held his cup close under his nose, inhaling the steam rising from it. The rings on his long fingers shone as he moved.

Tristan frowned slightly. “Good morning to you, too.” His tone was flat and curt, a jarring juxtaposition to Dorian’s cheerfulness.

“And in a dreary mood as well, it seems.” A half smile curled his lips, as if his jab was carefully chosen to have the effect it had just had on Tristan. “Care for a cup of mulled wine? It will lift your spirits, I assure you.”

“Isn’t it a bit early for wine?” Tristan replied. He didn’t want to admit that this was exactly why he had stepped in the tavern in the first place.

Dorian’s laughter rung clear across the room. “My dear Herald, it’s never too early for wine. Especially in this frozen wasteland of a place” he said, wrinkling his aquiline nose. “Come, have a drink with me. The Antivan Red is particularly good. My treat.” Without waiting for an answer, he lifted his hand. In a moment, Flissa was by their table, her cheeks flushed from the heat and her keen eyes glinting as she awaited their order.

“Bring the Herald a cup of Antivan Red, spiced and warmed. And do go easy on the honey” Dorian told her. “The wine is already quite sweet. It doesn’t need it” he explained to Tristan, after Flissa had disappeared behind the counter.

Despite his frown only half a breath earlier, Tristan couldn’t help a slow, reserved smirk. Even half-way across the world, the man still behaved as if he owned the place. Suspicious glances and insults whispered behind tight lips seemed not to bother him at all. On several occasions Tristan had even heard him jest about the irony of his situation; a mage from Tevinter, aiding a southern upstart organisation with religious undertones defeat the Venatori and that Elder One, who were, in fact, from Tevinter.

Everyone, including his advisors and other members of Tristan’s inner circle had initially seen him as a threat. Tristan had to practically argue with Cassandra to stop her from sending him away, and she still wore a distrustful frown whenever he was in her vicinity. The rest were more subtle in their reactions, but their reservations were plain to see.

Yet Tristan couldn’t help but trust him. Even though he teased him at every opportunity and there seemed to be no end to his witticisms, Tristan rather enjoyed his company, actually. He told himself that it was because Dorian had risked his life at Redcliffe Castle to help them against Alexius and the Venatori. Yes, that was certainly it. It definitely had nothing to do with the golden hue of his skin, which was contrasting the dark red of his cloak quite beautifully that morning. Or his warm and heady cologne, mixed with the scent of mulled wine. Or his grey eyes, with the tiny golden flecks that glinted in the morning sun, or…

Tristan flinched inwardly at the unbidden thoughts. He could feel the crease between his brows deepening as he sipped on his wine. What a brilliant start to his morning, with his mind going to all the places it shouldn’t.

“My, my. The mighty Herald, sighing as if he were lovestruck. Who’s the lucky girl?”

Dorian was eyeing him carefully behind his cup. Tristan blinked in astonishment. Had he really been sighing? After a moment of confusion, he scoffed and assumed his most unbothered expression as he looked out the window. Or at least, he hoped he appeared unbothered. He rummaged his brain for an appropriate answer, but could find none.

He always thought himself quite eloquent, yet more often than not he found himself tongue tied when he was with the dark-haired Tevinter. He wished Flissa a thousand silent blessings when she showed up with his drink on her tray, giving him a way out of Dorian’s dizzying stare.

“Thank you” he muttered, taking the warm cup in his hands. He wrapped his fingers around it tightly, basking in its warmth. He dared a quick glance at Dorian, who was swirling the wine in his own cup.

“So”, the man said decisively, “how is everything? Freeing mages and appeasing angry Templars and Chancellors must be exhilarating, to say the least.” The tips of his moustache were carefully curled upwards, and Tristan was sure the pomade he used was scented, as it released a faint, pleasant aroma every time he spoke. “I did notice a bit of a… commotion yesterday.”

Ah, yes. The incident between some mages and Templars the previous day. Tristan had known that expecting people not to talk was hoping too much. The stream of refugees from all over Ferelden was incessant. Word had spread around Thedas that there was finally a safe place where no one was persecuted for lighting a fire with a spell, or getting caught in the midst of a bloody battle between rogue Templars and apostate mages with nowhere to run. There was hardly enough space for everyone – the humble accommodations in Haven were already greatly overburdened as it was– but Tristan had vowed to not send anyone away that needed refuge. Naturally, tension between the Templars and Chantrics and the mages was at its zenith and a simple disagreement over lodging had quickly escalated in a flash of spirit magic and a few drawn swords.

Tristan had run in the middle of the disturbance with Commander Cullen. A few sharp words later everyone had returned to their posts, danger averted, but he could not quell the nagging feeling that the worst was yet to come. A rebellion within his own ranks was the last thing he needed.

“Things around here are becoming … very fragile” he told Dorian earnestly. Weariness crept in to his voice, but he tried to keep it at bay. He glanced at the everite ring on his finger that glistened in the dull grey sun. He twisted it absently, so that the faded inscription was sitting on the underside of his finger, before he continued. “Many were not happy with my decision to ally with the mages. Mages are still viewed as a threat, even by themselves at times. A quick conversation with Madame de Fer and you’ll soon find out all the reasons why a mage should always stay in the Circle, like a strange, wild animal in a cage. But things cannot possibly continue as they were. Conscripting the mages would just bring the Circles back, and that would practically be as good as restoring Chantry rule. That’s just not going to happen. Not while I have any say in it.”

He uttered the last few words without really thinking about it. Ever since he had found out he could actually play a role in forging the mages’ future, these were thoughts and internal arguments that had milled about in his head, but were never spoken out loud. He would grudgingly repeat that to himself through tightened jaws every time someone would bring up what a terrible decision he had made, or how dangerous the mages were, or how quickly everything would fall apart again, but he had never actually said them to anyone. Realising what he had done, he pinched his lips tightly and quickly brought his cup to his mouth. He took a long draught, hoping he had not said too much.

But Dorian stayed silent. He was studying him thoughtfully, his long finger drawing circles around the edges of his cup.

It was impossible to know what Dorian was thinking. The silence stretched between them, so that Tristan became aware of a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach. Making a bad impression on the one person that actually went to the trouble of asking him how he was was more than he could bear at that moment. At the risk of sounding petulant, Tristan cleared his throat, keeping his gaze firmly outside the foggy windows. “You must think me a fanatic.”

“A fanatic?” Dorian echoed. “On the contrary. If anything, I find you quite fascinating.”

Tristan let out a short huff. He glanced at Dorian, expecting to see the now familiar teasing smile and the mocking glint in his eyes. But the mage was simply watching him, as serious as Tristan had ever seen him.

“Fascinating? You must be the only one thinking that. Judging from the people around here, I thought most were after my hide.”

“And what a dashing hide. It would be such a pity to see it hanging over Therinfall Redoubt, or some other equally dreadful establishment. Especially before seeing everything it can accomplish. I have no doubt that the world will be a very different place after you’re done with it.”

For a moment, Tristan simply gaped at him. It had been a long while, too long perhaps, since anyone had paid him a compliment of any kind. It sounded odd, and jarring, as if it were addressed to someone else.

He shook his head, brushing it away as a joke. It must have been. “You jest. I should have known better than to listen to the ‘charming, yet ultimately wicked magister’.”

Dorian’s eyes flashed, and his silvery laugh bubbled from his slightly parted lips. “Charming and wicked? Is that what your advisors say about me? I plead guilty on both accounts. Jokes aside, though, you must be able to see the absurdity of it all. The Inquisition and the Herald of Andraste himself supporting free mages? What’s next? Elves running Halamshiral? Dogs ordering men to fetch? Colour me intrigued.”

His smile had not quite faded as Dorian downed the last of his wine, eyes fixed on Tristan’s. He set his cup down and rearranged his cloak about his shoulders. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and brush the stench of ale and pork stew off my cloak. One must look and smell their ravishing best when alphabetizing potions and elixirs.”

“Not a fan of our good, old tavern, I take it?” The clear derision in Dorian’s tone brought an instinctive grin to Tristan’s face. Finally, a person after his own heart. He wondered what else they might have in common.

“Ha! A ‘fan’, he says. The audacity.” His chair dragged along the creaking floor as he stood. “So long, Herald” he said over his shoulder, his cloak twirling behind him as he walked towards the door.

Tristan sat silent for a moment, staring at the empty space where Dorian had sat. His wine had turned cold, and the spices didn’t taste quite as warming as before. His features returned to their usual placidity, and he set his cup down. Absently, he realised that he never got the chance to ask Dorian how he was.

[dorms-fic-archive]

EreAni 30 Day OTP Challenge -  NOT SFW REBOOT [6/30, under the skin]

Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin, because I hadn’t seen anyone else attempt this with the pairing. [Ao3 | FFNet.]

a/n: New opener and historically-appropriate details, ft. Annie's POV just to make things interesting.

06. Fingering

Rating: NC-17

There's an weighted ache below her gut that has been stirring since yester-day afternoon. It wakes her first, come morning, insistent and pulsing, but there's nothing to show for it; still, she gears up accordingly, because a detour to the infirmary is unacceptable, and she's fought through worse fevers once divested of the body of the beast that sleeps beneath her skin.

So she won't be doing any practise with ODM gear, or horseback riding; not that she'll miss it. The mare assigned to her hasn't taken kindly to her like Krista's, and the stench of wet hay and horseshit just makes her surlier than usual. The point is, she'll fight through her pain like anything else. Tells herself as much when she brushes aside Carolina's concerns once before they leave for morning drills, then again during breakfast. She can feel Hoover's eyes on her, a constant, subtle expression of concern that she can appreciate without acknowledgement; even Braun's a little nicer. She doesn't want to ask anyone for help unless it's unavoidable.

In the heart of enemy territory, there is no one she can talk to besides the nurse, whose kindness leaves Annie feeling disgruntled and undeserving. The nurse, of course, will never really understand why, despite a cruel, calculated maturity in her eyes that sets her apart, Annie's not developing quite as fast as some of the other female trainees, stunted not only from malnutrition or the gruelling physical demands of using ODM gear, but her best-kept secret; if she lives to the full extent of her assigned term, she certainly won't be having children: the Marley already saw to that when they gave her the shot.

And yet she bleeds like any other girl. It should be an insult.

In the present, it's just another day out on the training field; the sky is unpleasantly bright, the clouds burn an impression into her eyes even when she closes them. There are some cadets like her, out training with the faux-rifles, but most of them are inside, given the heat, perhaps studying the inner workings of their manoeuvre gear with the nearest instructor, free-climbing on the cliffs offside base, or else finding other ways to avoid the approaching humidity, if they're smart. It's not yet laundry day.

Annie's only out here because she made a promise to get in some hand-to-hand practise with Jaeger — grudgingly. She could use a distraction to ease the monotony of this quotidian lifestyle. Jaeger remains an easy target on which to take out her frustrations, and his guileless nature is something that she has yet to understand, or try and question.

It's definitely not one of their more inspiring spars; she's able to block his offense without much trouble, but a few well-timed kicks are enough to reignite that heavy, throbbing pain and she shoves him back prematurely, wincing. Probably he'll think he must have gone too hard on her — never-mind the ludicrous idea of showing him mercy — but Eren isn't like most cadets, and so he calls: "Oi, you all right?"

"Fine. I didn't expect your counter, that's all." She steadies herself with unnecessary emphasis, squaring her shoulders, and digs her left heel into the dry earth.

Jaeger doesn't move. "Are you feeling all right?"

"None of your business." She raises her fists. "Come on, again."

He hasn't committed himself fully to the act; sensing that, she goes for his shin, ducking under his arm when he tries to block. The kick lands, eliciting a yelp of pain from Jaeger, but the pain and wooziness surge with that momentum, compromising her form.

She hisses, struggling quickly to right herself. There's not enough nutrition in the Academy's ordinary stew-and-bread to sustain any girl through puberty without risking the limitation of the body, much less a fully-operating Warrior. Most of the older female trainees are smart enough to choose bed-rest, or else avoid overexertion.

Jaeger's definitely noticed something is wrong, even if he doesn't know what. "You shouldn't push yourself — it's too hot for that. Want to take a break and get some water before we —?"

"The enemy isn't going to be merciful," she says through gritted teeth, but she can feel herself straining to keep in-place. "Come at me again, or we're finished for to-day."

He stares at her as though he might divine the reason for her change in attitude. So Annie decides to take the coward's way out and turns from him entirely.

It's not the first time she has shirked training. She carries herself stiffly, brow furrowing.

The main grounds and the wilderness beyond this split the difference at the edge of the field. She continues on, into the trees knowing she won't be missed — but Jaeger does not go off to the well like he suggested. Instead, he's tailing her. Now, either she could lead him to an early death, or… something else. She gets the feeling he would probably follow her anywhere, just to watch her operate. And it's not like a simple rendezvous is exactly a foreign concept to other trainees….

Or maybe her own reckless behaviour is simply rubbing off on him. She doesn't see fit to ask.

The forest only gets thicker as she progresses; when she thinks she's a good-enough distance from any onlookers she stops, uneasy, and poses the question without turning around: "Following me into the woods, Jaeger?"

"You're slacking off again," he accuses.

He really is an honest boy. "So?"

"So, I should make sure you aren't gonna — I dunno, sabotage the training equipment or somethin'."

She has to smirk at that. "It's going to look strange if you stay here with me." She turns around, pleased to see colour in his cheeks.

"Don't make it weird." As if self-conscious, he looks around the general area but there's nothing but wilderness. "Anyway, I thought we were sparring," he says. "You cut out earlier than usual, and you were holding back —"

"I don't hold back, Jaeger," Annie snaps.

"And you're a shit liar," he mutters, "I bet you weren't even in pain."

Annie's haughty smirk turns to something like a grimace. "You don't know how to leave well-enough alone, do you?"

Jaeger grunts ambivalently, watching her boots. "So, is this another lesson?"

Annie scoffs. "No. Go back to train with Arlert or something."

"Come on," he says bluntly, "you've been acting funny since we got out on the field. Are you gonna tell me what's wrong, or am I supposed to leave you here and hope you come back alive?" It's a genuine enough display of exasperation — or even worse, concern — that she forgets the pain, just for a few seconds. "You're always on about keeping my guard up — am I supposed to ignore you if you're hurt?"

Annie shuffles backward into the safety of a nearby tree and resists the urge to double over. "We can still — spar."

She'd meant it sarcastically, but Eren groans: "You can't be this stupid."

"Of course not, Jaeger." He stalks over to her with no small amount of trepidation, just gauging her expression or lack thereof. She's not sure what he's waiting for, but the idea of letting anyone this close while she's compromised is horribly inadvisable — and Eren, like the nurse and Mina Carolina, is just another Eldian who can't be expected to understand exactly what she's so afraid of —

"W-wait—" her palm splays against his chest; Jaeger hesitates. She glances at him, dazed. "What are you going to do?"

"I was gonna walk you back to the infirmary," Eren clarifies, suddenly more pragmatic than irritated. "Why?"

Annie shakes her head. "That won't — help me."

His brow furrows. "Oh — is it something embarrassing?" Annie shrugs, studying the divot of his collarbone, flinching when he tips her head up. "You, uh, can tell me, y'know."

It strikes her that Eren might've already caught on. She's nonplussed before she remembers: Ackermann. The thought only deadens whatever iota of hope she might've possessed to be left alone and, hot with shame, she snaps: "It's none of your goddam —"

He exhales sharply. "C'mon, put your arm around me; I can help you walk."

Though flushed, Annie is quick to salvage what's left of her composure: "It's not — I'm only bleeding, Jaeger."

He seems to relax, somewhat. "Oh. Then — c'mon, I can get you something for this."

"What?"

He flusters somewhat; she's definitely not as familiar — or perhaps familial — as whatever bond he shares with Ackermann. "If you're just, y'know — I can take you to the infirmary, and they'll be able to help you." Annie continues to stare at him uncomprehendingly; unwilling to relent, Eren takes her by the shoulder. "Oi. D'you have anything for this?"

"Back at the barracks — it's all right, though." She's scowling, her voice lowered to something much more furtive. "I should've told you before."

"Well, you've gotta let the instructor know. You can't be running around and bleedin'." He's caught off guard when Annie grabs his wrist. "What are you doing?"

The silence between them subsists — for five, seven, ten seconds — before she answers: "There's another way you could help me."

"Hunh?"

Adrenaline resurges. Her lips are dry when she licks them, anxious. "You could touch me."

Now Eren is the one staring incredulously at her. "Uh. How is that s'posed to stop the bleeding?"

"It won't, you idiot," she snaps, flushing terrifically, "it'll just help with the pain."

"O-oh." There's an awkward pause. "So, does… does it hurt much?"

Annie scoffs. "I've had worse."

Jaeger exhales, slow and shaky. "Well, if I…" — he strokes the inside of her leg, seemingly unable to verbalise the gesture — "you're sure it'll, uh, help?"

"You're going to get blood all over you," she mutters, as if this will dismay him.

"Yeah, I — maybe you should take those off first?" He motions to her chinos. Annie gazes at him a long, long moment, eyes brimming with relief, lingering doubt; all Eren does is offer her a nervous half-smile. "Well, I'm not a girl. So I dunno how it feels for you."

She would tell him to shut up but she's shivering under his scrutiny. She unbuckles her boots on her own, and lets him drag it all to her feet before kicking off her chinos like they've offended her personally. His hand moves over her naked thigh and she looks away.

"Oi," says Eren. "Are you really sure about…?"

"Are you?" she mutters, almost wary of him by this point.

His hands are warm on her naked flesh. A fresh swell of pain causes her to bite her lip — unexpectedly, he leans in to kiss her brow, and her hands fly up instinctively to ball in his shirt. "What should I…?"

She takes in an uneven breath. "I want you to touch me." Gingerly, she spreads her legs; there really isn't much to see besides the blood, she thinks, but Jaeger looks on in awe, or perhaps concern. The air tastes damp, and his hands are gentle — it's heady enough to frighten her.

She goes quiet again, averting her eyes. It's when he starts stroking her again that she self-corrects: "Nngh — I dunno, just…."

"D'you want me to stop?"

"No!" she snaps, exasperation tangible in her voice, melting when he parts her. "N-no, don't stop."

"O.K." He's rubbing slow little circles. Her hands ball up at her sides. "Are you sure you're all right?" He sounds afraid, but not of her.

"Yes," she stresses, all in a breathy hiss, head snapping up. "Don't worry about me, I-I'm…" Eren kisses her temple. His touch is rough and unpractised, but somehow timorous, and he keeps rubbing. He's not even hard. With one hand, Annie scrabbles feverishly at his chest for want of something better to do, while the other hand reaches down to stop him. "Th-that's enough," she mumbles, "I'm ready."

"Hunh?"

Annie widens her stance, breathing out slow. "Come here." Stifles a groan when he pushes into her without resistance.

"Does it hurt?" he mutters, wide-eyed.

"Not because of you."

"O.K." Gives her two fingers and she's shuddering, at his mercy; the idiot hasn't even rolled up his sleeves.

"Jaeger," she gasps, unable to stand it anymore and reaching out for his arm, "stop, you'll get blood on your clothes."

"Hunh?" He seems to realise what she's getting at. "I can always wash this later."

She snarls at the thought of having to explain herself to anyone else but him, and shoves him back, trailing blood. "Don't be stupid," she spits with unneeded vitriol.

It's clearly upsetting her more than him, but he shrugs out of his jacket, left only in his threadbare shirt. His right hand is still splotched up to the wrist. Annie sucks in a shaky breath when he approaches, and his fingers knead up her thighs, leaving ruddy blotches — she feels more like a cadaver about to be gutted.

She's relieved when he doesn't put his fingers in immediately. Just knocks her clit around with his thumb, which isn't terrible or anything, but won't replace the ache that turns to throbbing in her belly. "Jaeger," she almost whimpers, pathetic with need. "Put your fingers in again."

He glances down at her so earnestly she wants to mock him, moans instead when he obliges.

"Can you…?" she holds up her own hand, fingers crooked. Eren blinks, frowning slightly. "Inside me," she elaborates, going pink again.

"O-oh." His palm flattens against her and his fingers curl, drawing a gasp out of her. Eren stops. "What is it…?"

"It's… fine." A subtle strain creeps into her voice even as she's raising herself to the touch. "You can go harder than that."

He leans in, kisses her nose. She makes a surprised noise that half-catches in her throat, throbs in accordance with his touch, and he drags his fingers up inside until he's cradling her in heel of his palm. He keeps his eyes on her face; rather, the fringe of her hairline, the tip of her nose, because she's looking away, panting softly.

"Is it good?" he mutters.

"Shut up, Jaeger," Annie groans through her teeth, unable to conceal her blush. Her hair is still tied up, a little dishevelled, and she's shoved a hand up her own shirt, flushed all the way down to her throat and clavicle. She grips his jacket, afraid he'll slip away. Unexpectedly, he's drawing his fingers out to circle her again; Annie whines.

"Tell me when you're close." Her face contorts. Her fist smacks the tree at her side and he envelops that hand in his as if it will somehow negate the sting. "Relax," he says, not-so gently this time. Annie's hand twists viciously in his.

"Eren," she grits, pushing back against the heel of his palm, "I-I need — your hand, just — harder." Pressing her steadily against the tree, he starts pumping his wrist and she can hear the slick noises he's making. Annie gnaws at his shoulder through the linen and her muscles contract, which seems to alarm him, slowing down out of consideration before she clamps her legs shut, turning her face up to snap: "I said harder, goddam it."

It's almost funny the way he blenches: "Shit, you're gonna break my fingers."

Annie gives up the ghost, nips at his chin, murmuring: "I'm close, you idiot," before ducking into his shoulder again. She wraps her arms around his frame in an awkward embrace; he's not a particularly tall boy, but he's still broader than she is. Jaeger presses a kiss to the crown of her head. He starts to slow down and she barks: "Harder!" and he grunts, shoving her into the tree and her breath won't come back in time and she bites down hard on his jacket to stifle a low cry; overstimulation brings a painful undercurrent.

And Jaeger's tilting her head up, and when their eyes meet she jolts, unable to accept in full that she's been cornered, disarmed. There's alarm in his expression, yes, but something else, too, different than the ordinary enthusiasm that he shows every time they train together.

"Annie?" She tries to make a sound but all that leaves her is a ragged whine. She feels his knuckles brush impulsively over her brow to smooth back her bangs, and her eyes flutter open again. He hesitates, then kisses her cheek, chaste. "Oi, did you…?"

Annie makes a strained noise, like she's wounded. As he pulls away she grabs a fistful of his shirt before he can escape completely, resting her forehead on his shoulder, gradually becoming tense again.

"Are you all right?" he mutters.

Her shoulders lift. "It's not going to make the pain stop. Just a little easier to deal with."

"Oh," says Eren. She stares at his hand as he revokes it, the colour stark on her thighs; discontented, he makes an unsuccessful effort to wipe his hand on the tree, then leans down to hand her back her trousers. "Thanks," she says gruffly.

"Yeah," says Eren, and does not watch her redress, tongue-between-teeth. To combat the horribly awkward silence brewing between them, he adds, unprompted: "My dad, he was a doctor, so I reckoned…." His ears turn pink. "I've never heard of anyone doing that before."

Annie can feel herself flushing. "I shouldn'tve let you do that."

"You asked me. I could have said no."

"That's not — just forget it," she grumbles.

When he gathers his courage, looks her way, he's boyish again. "So," she says, uneasy on her feet. He offers his good hand. She takes it, like she's about to shake but he holds it firm.

"So," he echoes. "Infirmary?"

Annie shrugs half-heartedly, but offers no snide rejoinder.

a/n: I've covered menstruation in a past fanfic, Hindrance, and now we're apparently diving into the relatively unhygienic concept of menstrual masturbation.

There's a lot I missed in my endeavor to write about this previously. Because my nerdery knows no bounds, I grant you this concept: Self-adhesive pads weren't a thing until the 1970s, so if a woman was going to use a pads they had to wear belts, suspenders, "sanitary panties," (underpants with hooks/tabs/something else to hold the pad in place)—or else figure out some way to keep the pad stationary. In regards to menstruation, pads were either homemade or the women walked around bleeding through their clothes—hence, in some areas, like factories where there were a lot of women workers, they'd have straw laid on the floor to absorb the mess.

I'm pretty sure I'm overthinking this, yes. But hey, these trainees are all walking around in WHITE PANTS, and they already have harnesses for the ODM gear. So perhaps it's not implausible, given the co-ed nature of the training corps, that such matters would be taken into account—but I digress. If by some chance you want to read more about old menstrual tech, here's a link.