#this pier is a lot bigger in my head and they are on open waters but this is the sims so lmaoooo

[verai-marcel]

Your Hearth Is My Home (BG3 Fanfic, Astarion x Female Reader, Part 27 of 28, 18+)

Summary, Notes, Tags, & Part 1 are here.

CW: There is EXPLICIT SMUT in this chapter.

Act I - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Act II - Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | 

Act III - Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 (18+) | Part 28 (END)

AO3 Link is here, my love.

Word Count: 5,624

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Act III, Chapter 6 - The Return

Astarion stood at the dock, staring out over the water. The silver moonlight shone brightly, as if it wanted to cheer him on. It was a full moon too, just like it was when they defeated the Netherbrain. 

It felt like a lifetime ago.

He had come here every night, sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes for a whole hour, just… waiting. And every night, he left feeling a little disappointed.

But tonight felt different.

Yesterday, as the sun rose in the sky, he had hummed a song he remembered, a song she had sung to him. The melody had lulled him into what he thought was a reverie. But he had fallen asleep. And he had dreamed.

He had dreamt of her.

So he stood at the very same spot where he had last seen her, looking out over the water, and for the first time in a while, he hoped.

Against the soft, rhythmic splashing of the waves, he could almost hear her voice, a warm, rapturous melody that made him feel like he was sitting in front of a cozy campfire, with her sitting in his lap as he sipped from her neck, savoring her warm blood. He could imagine her taste, sweet on his tongue, lingering like honey wine, warm and soothing, just like her. 

The singing in his mind grew louder.

“Gods, it’s like she’s right here,” he mumbled to himself. “I’m losing my damn mind.”

He was so sure that he was going crazy that he didn’t even question when the water at the foot of the docks began to swirl in a whirlpool. But as it grew bigger and faster, he began to step back, away from the edge of the pier.

Then he stopped. Her voice was getting louder.

The whirlpool glowed for a moment, then an intricate circular rune began to appear above the water, lines steadily being drawn in a light blue hue that was very familiar. Hope bubbled in his heart like a spring.

Magic crackled in the air as the lines drew out the rest of the pattern. The circle closed and there was a flash of bright light. He covered his eyes against the supernatural glare.

He heard a soft thud and opened his eyes. He blinked.

In the echoing silence, Astarion said her name like a prayer.

***

It was strange, suddenly being back in Toril. You weren’t sure how much time had passed on this side. After all, a whole year had passed for you. But when you looked up, you saw Astarion standing before you, looking a little more pale than you remember. He called your name, like a supplication, and you nearly cried.

As your fey form faded back to your human form, you leapt into his outstretched arms.

The two of you held each other tightly. Nothing short of the end of the world would tear you two apart.

Finally, you moved back so you could see his smiling face, keeping your arms around him. “How long have I been gone?”

He tipped his head in confusion. “Twenty-eight days.”

You blinked. “That’s it?”

He frowned. “Why…?”

You stepped back. “I… I’ve been in the Feywild for a whole year.” You started to cry in relief. “I thought time went faster here, I thought everyone would be gone!”

Astarion pulled you back into his arms and pressed his forehead against yours. “It’s alright, darling. I’m here.”

He let you cry for a little while before he pulled back. “Well. You’ll have to tell me all about your year away,” he said as he stepped back and offered you his arm. “We have a lot to catch up on, it seems.”

***

As you walked with him to his home, he told you briefly about the others. Wyll and Karlach had left for Avernus together a couple of weeks ago when Karlach’s engine started to give out. Shadowheart and Gale had moved to Waterdeep. Jaheira and Minsc were still around in Baldur’s Gate. Halsin had taken the orphans in the city and left for Thaniel’s lands.

“I’d like to let them know I’m back safely,” you mentioned casually.

“I’ll write to them,” Astarion said, just as the two of you reached his home. It was a small townhouse in the city that had belonged to one of the murder victims of the cult of Bhaal. No one wanted to claim it, so Astarion took it, and had been slowly patching it up.

He opened the five locks on the door and opened it with a flourish, guiding you inside with his hand on the small of your back.

The ground level was bereft of any furnishings. A plain foyer led to a small kitchen and pantry, with a small side room and a door to a stairwell on the other side. The stairs were honestly a bit of a mess with chipped stonework and sharp edges on the steps.

“What’s upstairs?”

He shrugged. “Nothing much right now.” 

You took a quick peek with his permission. There was only a small room on one side of the hall and a covered balcony on the other that faced the river. It, too, was empty, with dust and cobwebs everywhere.

This place needs some work.

However, once you followed him down to the basement, you were a bit in awe. 

The stairway opened into a cozy sitting room, minimally decorated with a rug and some cushions for lounging. You noticed that some ornate daggers were displayed on a mostly empty bookshelf. There were a few colorful tapestries hung on the wall to give the room a bit of life, and a small fireplace to keep it warm. Against the wall across from the fireplace was a chaise lounge, a throw blanket haphazardly tossed across it.

There were two other doors for the washroom and bedroom. The luxurious washroom had two sinks and a tub large enough for two, with a door that connected to a grand bedroom with minimalist, stylish decor. There was a king sized bed covered in black silk sheets, and night stands on either side with two drawers each, clearly stuffed with knick knacks and jewelry. Bookcases lined two of the walls, floor to ceiling. They were only half filled.

“You have a lot of shelving,” you noted, looking at the empty bookcases on either side of the door leading back to the sitting room. “Planning on collecting more books or knick knacks?”

“Perhaps I’m waiting for someone else to fill the other half.”

You turned to look at him, and his shy expression made your heart skip a beat. Somehow, he always seemed so much more attractive to you when he suddenly showed signs of being a normal person instead of a charming rake.

“Perhaps someone would take you up on that,” you commented as you followed him back to the sitting room. He led you to the cushions in front of the fireplace and sat down with you.

“Shall I?” you asked with a grin.

“If you could,” he replied.

You sang your fire cantrip, and you noticed that he was watching you with a content smile on his face. As you watched the wood burning, listening to the crackle and pop of the embers, he curled himself around you and held you close.

“How did you know that I was coming back?” you asked.

“Just a hunch.”

You laughed softly at him using your own line.

“But I really did,” he insisted, though his pout wasn’t making it any more believable. Then he took your hand in his. “I dreamed of you. You were singing on the dock in the full moonlight, and you turned to me and waved for me to come to you.”

“I thought you didn’t like to dream. How did you even fall asleep in the first place?”

He turned away, looking a little embarrassed. “I… I hummed your song. I was surprised it worked, to be honest.”

You blinked. Then you laughed. “Will wonders never cease?”

“Gods, I hope they do. I just want to laze around in bed with you for a whole week.”

“I still need to eat, you know. And find some way of making money so that I can eat.”

He huffed. “I can make enough for both of us.”

You looked at him curiously. “And what have you been doing while I've been gone?” 

His eyes glittered with amusement. “It turns out that if you kill bad guys, you can get away with murder. And no one wonders when their bodies suddenly disappear.”

You grinned mischievously. “So you're telling me you've become a hero of the night?”

He rolled his eyes at you. “Stop that, you're making me sound like one of those blasted romance novel protagonists.”

Cackling with merriment, you patted his knee. “I'm actually quite proud of you, despite my teasing.” 

Astarion held you close. You could feel his happiness, like sparkles of light on the edges of your own emotions. Wrapping your arms around him, you sighed happily in his embrace. 

After a few moments, a serious question came to mind. “Do you miss the daylight?” you asked quietly. 

He shrugged. “It was… hard, at first. I hate to admit it, but Wyll and Karlach helped me… accept my circumstances. If not for them I probably would have been a wreck for much longer.”

You kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.”

“And I’ll forever hold a grudge.”

When you frowned, he smiled and tapped you playfully on the nose before he leaned down and nuzzled you. “I’m joking. You were trapped in another plane. I can hardly blame you.” He sighed. “It'd be nice if I could find a way to not burn in the sun. I haven't given up, but I've come to accept the shadows as a part of me.”

You smiled at him, so proud of his growth. So proud, in fact, that you hesitated to tell him that there might be a way. 

He picked up on your silence, however, as he searched your gaze. 

“You're thinking about something.” He tapped your forehead. “What did you learn in that Feywild?”

You swallowed. You hemmed and hawed. But finally, you decided to tell him, and trust him to make his own decision. 

“There might be a way to prevent you from burning in the sun.”

“Weren't you already doing that? Before”—he gestured with one hand—“you disappeared.”

You shook your head. “That wouldn't have lasted more than a day.” Mother chastised the hells out of me when I told her what I was trying to do. “There's… another way.”

He stared at you for a few moments, observing your expression. “You sound hesitant.”

You took a deep breath. “Because you’re not going to like it.”

“Try me.”

You wrung your hands nervously. “You… you’ll have to bind yourself to me. With a seal.”

“Oh. So like a warlock. Is that all?”

You looked at him in panic. He doesn’t understand. “It’s not the same! Because I’m not a full archfey, my… mortality… affects how the pact works.” 

He raised an eyebrow.

“It means that you are linking your life to mine and keeping me anchored to this plane so that I can stay in Toril when I use spells more powerful than a cantrip,” you quickly explained. “But I'm mortal. At some point, I'll pass away. And when that happens, your life, which is tied to mine, will end too.”

He was quiet for a moment. “And this will let me walk in the sun?”

You shrugged. “It might. My mother thinks it should, in theory. But she wasn’t sure because a vampire spawn has never contracted with an archfey before.” And an archfey would never contract with a vampire, but he doesn’t need to know that.

Astarion hummed in thought. After a few moments, he nodded. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

You were a little shocked. “Wait, you’d bank your eternal life on a maybe?”

“I have the freedom to make my own choices.”

“But I’m mortal! You have forever—”

“I told you. I’m not afraid to die. But to live forever without you? I don't even want to consider it.”

Ugh, I knew he was impulsive. You swallowed. “This goes for me getting killed too.”

“Then I’ll just have to protect you.” He paused. “Does it work in reverse? If I’m killed…”

“I’d just be released from the pact,” you replied, noting that he sighed in relief at your answer. “Are you sure you want this?”

“Never been more sure of anything.” He took your hand. “So bind yourself to me.”

Smiling, tears in your eyes, you held his hands tightly. “We’ll have matching seals,” you said as one last ditch effort to get him to reconsider. “You’d have to live with that fashion faux pas for the rest of your life.”

“Hmm, well, when you put it that way…” He laughed. “Come now, do you honestly think a small thing like that will stop me from wanting this? When can we make our pact?”

“Erm…We can perform the ritual tonight, since it’s a full moon. Otherwise, you have to wait for the next one.” You wrung your hands again. “Are you sure?”

“Stop trying to delay this.” He tipped his head. “Unless, you don’t want this?”

“I…” You paused. Did you? Astarion waited patiently for your answer, but you could tell he was getting worried by your silence.

Do I want to be with him for the rest of my life? Yes. Of course I do.

You took a deep breath. “I want this. I just want to be sure that you do too.”

Astarion smiled. “I do.” He leaned in a bit. “So. How do we do this?”

You got up and led him to the bedroom.

“Oh, is this one of those sexy rituals?” he asked as you took off your shirt.

“Not really,” you half-lied, even though your mouth went dry when he followed suit and removed his own shirt. Gods, he really looks like he’s sculpted out of marble. You took off the rest of your clothes, dropping them on the ground before kneeling down on the cold stone floor in just your underwear. You patted the spot in front of you. “Kneel here, please.”

“So polite,” he said with a smirk as he removed the rest of his clothes and knelt before you. “Not that I mind, but why must we be dressed in only our underwear?”

“In case our clothes catch on fire.”

He raised an eyebrow. 

You shrugged. “We’ll be fine. I think.”

Astarion let out a soft huff. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“No.”

He blinked. Then he shrugged. “Well then. I guess we’ll fumble through this together.”

You slowly straddled his lap, his eyes going wide for a moment, but he didn’t stop you. You took his hands and placed his right palm against the small of your back, his left hand covering his right. You did the same to him.

“Whatever happens, whatever burning sensation you feel, don’t let go.”

He nodded, understanding. Staring into his eyes, you began to sing.

My strength will be yours

Within this seal I weave onto thee

Our hearts will combine into one

I will forever be with you

Tonight, our souls meld

Our fates aligned by breath and by blood

Let our lives be ever intertwined

Bind us always in starlight.

Astarion winced as the rune began to take hold on the small of his back underneath your palm. You could feel the same rune on your own skin, like a burning quill, drawing an intricate pattern into your flesh. When you felt the circle finish, you let out a sigh of relief.

“It is done,” you said, leaning back and moving your hands to his shoulders. “You want to see?”

He nodded, and you got off his lap and turned around. Reaching down, he traced the circle’s lines with his fingers. “And the same rune is on me?”

“Should be,” you said, shifting around to kneel behind him. “Yeah,” you confirmed as you touched the light silver-blue seal. “We match.”

He turned towards you, and you realized with a sudden rush of heat to your cheeks that he was quite happy. His exuberance was making a sizable bulge in his underwear.

“Darling,” he purred, leaning closer. “Perhaps we should celebrate.” He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek. “We’ve yet to enjoy each other, now that the world is no longer coming to an end.”

Yes, it was time. A mixture of eagerness and nerves made you tremble slightly as you nodded.

Astarion smiled and stood, holding his hand out to you to help you up. Hand in hand, he led you to his luxurious bed, playfully pushing you down and straddling your thighs. You expected him to lean down and kiss you. Instead, he took your hands in his.

“This will be a first, being with someone I truly care about.” He held your hands delicately, as if you would break under the slightest pressure. “I don't even know where to begin.”

“We could start with a kiss, perhaps.” You smiled shyly up at him. “This is new to me too.”

His eyes widened, but you quickly clarified. “I've had a few awkward fumblings hidden away in closets and storage rooms, nothing… Real.”

“Oh darling,” he said, sounding eager. “Then consider this your real first night.”

He kissed each of your hands tenderly before setting them down gingerly beside you. His gaze became intense as he leaned down, his body covering yours. You reached up and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, feeling his sculpted muscles, his smooth skin. When your lips met, he let out a soft moan as he slowly drew out the kiss, gently nibbling your lower lip before coaxing your mouth open. Your tongues met, hesitantly at first, but the kiss grew deeper, your breaths quicker as his hips moved against yours.

Your legs opened on their own, just so you could feel the brush of his body against you more intimately. As he leaned down to nuzzle your neck, he hooked his hand under your knee and spread your legs even wider.

“My sweet witch,” he murmured in your ear before playfully biting your earlobe. “Will you give me a treat?”

“Did you say please?”

He smirked. “Please,” he asked in a low tone.

“Alright, since you asked nicely,” you replied breathlessly. 

He let out a deep, knowing laugh before he let his fangs graze along the sensitive skin of your neck. “Gods, I’ve missed you,” he rasped before he bit down.

You let out a soft cry as the pain and pleasure mixed in your mind. His hips rolled, rubbing himself against you in a most pleasurable rhythm, and you lifted your own hips to meet his pace, the thin cloth of your panties growing wet. To your surprise, he released you from his bite after only a small taste, kissing your wound before lifting himself up to meet your gaze.

“Saving some for later,” he said when you gave him a questioning look. His eyes fluttered shut as he licked a drop of blood from his lips. “I want you fully awake for what I’m about to do to you.”

Your cheeks heated with the implication. Oh goodness. 

His hands grazed the neckline of your bra, his finger lingering at the laces that kept it intact. “Shall I take these off for you, my dear?”

“If you can,” you said with some sass.

“Is that a challenge?”

“Perhaps.”

His eyes narrowed as he deftly undid the laces with one graceful pull. “Easy,” he purred as he lowered his head to nuzzle between your bare breasts. His gaze stayed on yours as he lightly skimmed his fangs across your skin before taking a nipple between his lips. As he gently sucked and pulled on one, he teased the other with his forefinger and thumb.

You let out a pathetic little moan. 

He chuckled. “Sensitive, are we?” Shimmying down your body and laying kisses as he went, his lips reached the hem of your panties. Without breaking eye contact, he bit the fabric and pulled it halfway down your thighs.

“You’re already so wet, my love,” he murmured as he propped your ankles over his shoulder. “Are you so eager for my touch?”

You were. You could feel his lust, pulsing like a living thing, and it was doubling your own desire. “Feeling how much you want me is heating me up so much.”

He grinned as he pulled your panties off and flung them over his shoulder. Then he held your legs against his chest, pressing his cheek to your calf. He closed his eyes for a moment before turning his head to kiss it tenderly. “Good. I want you to feel every bit of it.”

Taking your legs off his shoulder, he spread you wide. Bending down, Astarion laid a trail of kisses up your inner thigh. With his face between your legs, he grinned. “All of that nectar, just for me.”

You forgot how to breathe when you felt his tongue against your core. He masterfully pleasured you, alternating between delicate licks and taking in your bud between his lips and sucking hard enough to make you scream. He was making your insides coil up, the tension building with each touch.

He brushed against your folds with his finger, caressing your bud with his thumb as he moved up your body, kissing a wet trail up your stomach, around the curves of your breasts, along your collarbone. He nibbled playfully at your neck before lifting himself up on one elbow to look down at you.

You felt his finger penetrate you as he stared, watching your reaction. 

You gasped as he pushed deeper.

“Darling, you’ll need to loosen up,” he teased. “Or I’ll never fit.”

Oh gods. Your breathing hitched at the thought.

“Did the thought excite you?” He pressed another finger into you. “Of me spreading you open, taking you, claiming you?”

You whimpered with need.

He laughed, low and deep. His fingers moved faster, his thumb stroking your core with more pressure. He watched you carefully, making sure every touch brought you to greater and greater heights, until you felt the dam finally burst under all the delicious pressure. Pure bliss flooded your body, and you let out a strangled cry.

“Astarion!”

“Good girl,” he murmured. “So good, coming for me.”

Then he slipped a third finger inside of you while you were still spasming, and you shook with the intrusion. He continued to pump his fingers in and out of you, slowing his strokes as you came down from your high. You spread your legs wider for him, your hips jerking forward to meet his hand.

“Who knew? My sweet little witch was secretly a wanton temptress.” Kissing the corner of your lips, Astarion pushed himself completely up and away from you with a knowing smirk. With your eyes glued to him, he peeled off his underwear.

Your eyes must have bugged out, because his smirk became extra arrogant. “Like what you see, my sweet?”

You nodded. But you were a little concerned. He’ll never fit.

As he crawled back over you, he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I can’t wait to sink into you. I’ve been waiting forever for this.” He kissed you again. “Waiting forever for you.”

You felt the tip of him nudging your entrance.

Oh my goodness. He’s…

He pushed. You winced. He stopped.

“Deep breath, darling.”

You obeyed.

“That’s it, that’s my sweet love,” he coaxed as he pushed a little further inside. “You feel so good, better than heaven.”

He slowly rolled his hips in a steady rhythm, and with every stroke, he sank a little deeper into you.

Fuck, he is so thick, he’s splitting me open.

His attention was so hyper focused on you that when he finally hilted inside of you, he paused, watching you squirm underneath him, his mouth slightly open as if he wanted to take a bite.

“Look at you, so helpless under me,” he murmured. “Giving me your trust.” He kissed your cheek tenderly. “You do trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course,” you said in a breathy voice. “Make love to me.”

He laughed softly. “I was going to use the word ‘fuck’, but if you want it sweet and gentle, I can do that for you.”

His hips rolled slowly as he built up a steady rhythm, making sure you felt every inch of him as he showed you how much he loved you.

But after a few minutes, you could tell he was ebbing in and out of being present, and you held his face in your hands. “Astarion?” you asked gently.

He blinked, his gaze refocusing on yours. “I’m here, my love.”

Something isn’t right. This isn’t quite what he wants. “What do you want to do?”

Astarion glanced away for a moment before giving you a smile that you knew was a lie. “Whatever you want to do.”

You ran your hands through his hair soothingly. “I want you to be happy. I want you to tell me how you want to make love to me.”

He stared at you for a moment, his hips slowing and finally resting himself inside of you. “I…” He trailed off, swallowed, and tried again. “I’ve always had to… perform, for the sake of others. But with you… I just want to ravish you, darling.” He leaned down and nuzzled your cheek. “But I don’t want to hurt you, either.”

You could feel the hot pulse of his desire and shivered with the depth of his need for you. Oh. Oh my.

Astarion lovingly kissed your jawline. “I want to fuck you so hard you forget where you end and I begin. I want to be so lost inside of you that I never want to return.”

With a fluttering breath, you wrapped your legs around his waist and dug your ankles into the back of his thighs. “Then take me the way you want to,” you whispered.

He lifted himself up onto his haunches and grabbed your hips. You only had a split second to realize what his smirk meant before he rocked his hips and slammed into you, pushing all the air from your lungs. You gasped and began to make helpless, breathy noises as he fucked you as hard as he promised. He reached down with one hand and cupped your cheek tenderly, a clear contradiction to his ravishing thrusts.

“You make me so happy,” he said before he fell upon you again, slipping one hand between your bodies. His fingers rubbed your core as he nestled his head on your shoulder. You could feel his breath against your neck as he spoke.

“Will you let me bite you when you come?”

“Yes,” you breathed, unable to deny him anything.

“Thank you,” he said against your skin, his tongue flicking out as if he was tasting your skin, preparing to bite. He pressed his lips against your pulse and kissed you gently, even as he was thrusting into you even harder and faster, making his eagerness to both come and to drink from you readily apparent.

You were out of breath with his continuous pounding, so you reached up and touched his cheek, just as he looked directly at you. A blast of passion came through your empathy, and you moaned helplessly from its onslaught, the intensity of his gaze making your heart thump even quicker.

He smiled knowingly. “I just felt you tremble around me. You’re close, aren’t you?”

You nodded, unable to use your voice.

He gave you quite possibly the sexiest little grin before taking you with even more vigor, stroking you rapidly. “Good girl. Come for me, please,” he rumbled.

For whatever reason, that was enough to make your body ignite. You swear you saw fireworks behind your eyes as your climax took you hard, shaking you down, making you scream out Astarion’s name over and over like a prayer.

He purred more praises, coaxing you through your completion. You looked at him in a haze of bliss and noticed his pupils were blown out. 

“My sweet treat,” he murmured before he licked your pulse and bit down on your neck.

Your vision went black, then pure white in half as many moments. Pleasure erupted from your neck and your core, and you swear you came again, your channel throbbing and squeezing around him.

Distantly, you could feel him letting go of your neck, hear him cry out as he thrust once, twice, thrice more before stilling, his hips crushing yours against the mattress.

“Fuck,” he rasped, staring down at you. “You are fucking amazing.”

He rolled over and took you with him, draping you over his body as you caught your breath. When you finally looked up at him, you noticed he was staring through you. Reaching up, you cupped his cheek.

“Are you with me?”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, even though he didn’t need to. Perhaps it was the comfort of the motion, since his body didn’t need the air. When he opened his eyes once more, they were solidly focused on yours.

“Yes. I’m here with you,” he whispered as he leaned his cheek into your touch.

You knew he was telling you the truth, that his mind was in the present. You could feel that bubbling affection, a fountain of fondness that enveloped you, made you feel cared for, made you feel seen. “Will you be alright?”

His smile flickered for a moment. “There were a few moments when… I wasn’t here. But I came back on my own. It… may take a bit of time, but I think I’ll be alright.” He hugged you tight. “As long as I have you to return to.”

You hugged him back. “I’m glad. I’ll do whatever it takes to help.”

“I know, darling.” He brought your forehead against his and took a deep breath again. When he looked up at you, his smile was genuine in its softness. “I love you. And I’ll always love you, until the very end.”

***

You woke in the morning, your neck and, well, your whole body sore. You could hear sounds coming from the washroom and knew Astarion was primping for the new day. 

Wait. Day? 

You immediately sat up, and immediately regretted it as the blood rushed from your head. Groaning in discomfort, you slowly keeled over and held your head. 

You could hear Astarion walking over and sitting on the bed next to you. When you raised your head, he was holding a potion out to you. 

“Drink this. You'll feel better.”

You gratefully took the bottle and drank it in one gulp. “Oof, this potion tastes like iron shavings and over-cooked mushrooms.” You blinked. “Huh, but my head feels much better.”

Astarion was looking at you with a withering glare. “I made that just for you, you know. It's not my fault your journal didn't have better instructions.”

You looked at him in surprise. “You kept my things?”

“Well, of course. Who else would have them?” 

You shrugged. “I don't know, I thought…” You paused. You didn't want to tell him that you thought only Shadowheart would have remembered to grab your pack. “Well, I don't know.”

Astarion continued to stare at you until you began to fidget under his scrutiny. “I know you're lying, but it doesn't matter. What does matter is that I have your things, and that your potions journal is impossible to decipher.”

You could only laugh; you had written your apothecary notes in a shorthand that only you knew. You were honestly impressed he got as far as figuring out the base ingredients for your headache potion.

He put his hands on his hips. “Well, now that you're feeling better, let's go face the new day, shall we?”

Day. Daylight. You panicked. 

“What's wrong, darling? Afraid it might not work?” 

“Of course I’m afraid! I was told it could work, not that it would.”

“Only one way to find out.” He scooped up your clothes and tossed them at you with a ‘hurry up’ gesture. The moment you were done pulling your clothes on, he took your hand and dragged you up the stairs. You followed him to the shades in front of the window.

He stared at the draperies for a few moments before turning to you. “Ready?”

You hesitated. 

Astarion stepped closer to you and pulled you into his arms. “Whatever happens, whether this works or not, I won't regret bonding with you.” 

How did he know what I was thinking? Somehow, he had soothed your worries with just the right thing to say. You took a deep breath. “Alright. The moment you start to burn, I'm closing them.”

He nodded. 

You pulled the drapes open. The sunlight made a sharp rectangle on the stone floor. 

Slowly Astarion began to approach. As the light shone onto his face, you held your breath. 

Seconds passed. Then a full minute. 

And he did not burn.

He turned around to face you, his beatific smile nearly as blinding as the morning sun. “Darling, I can feel the sun again,” he purred as he walked back to you. “I believe this is cause for celebration.”

With that, he dragged you back downstairs and kept you busy long enough that he didn’t get to enjoy the sun any further that day.

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

Act III, Chapter 6 End notes: Whew, finally! Haha, I felt a little strange, writing a love scene for a different fandom and different characters, but I hope this was steamy for everyone. This is technically the end of the main story, but I’ve got an epilogue for y’all, aligning with the epilogue in the game, so hopefully that’ll be a nice cap to the end of the story.

The binding spell is sung here. Please forgive my terrible singing, haha.

Tags List: @numblytemporary @xalphafox @avitute @stormyjane7 @kmoon21

[pxltown]

just a wip :)

[sincerelystranger]

It’s a strange feeling to learn something new about a person you thought you knew everything about, and the newness leaves a strange taste in Jiang Cheng’s mouth, a faintly uncomfortable feeling in his gut.

It’s not anything major – not really anyway – and it shouldn’t bother him so much but…

But…

But the thing is…

Wei Wuxian lies.

He lies a lot.

And his lies are about stupid things – like that he’s fine when he’s obviously not, and that he’s forgotten something when he hasn’t, and…

Well, he lies.

And it’s surprising to Jiang Cheng, because he always thought that Wei Wuxian was basically incapable of lying. Incapable of just saying nice shit to smooth things over. Incapable of hiding his feelings at the expense of someone else’s pride. Incapable of just saying some stupid white lie when some idiot in charge asked him something.

Incapable.

Now, Jiang Cheng realizes that Wei Wuxian wasn’t incapable, he was just unwilling.

And maybe it’s because of this new face – younger and stranger and just a little bit familiar – or maybe it’s because Jiang Cheng is older now, and maybe just a little bit wiser, but it’s easier to read Wei Wuxian now.

Easier to see the slight downturn of his lips before he gives a fake smile. Easier to notice the strange, tired nervousness in his eyes as he checks to see if his lies have been believed.

Easier.

Easier to see, but not any easier to understand.

“So you just randomly decided to come to Lotus Pier,” he asks slowly, his eyes carefully tracking every nervous tick of Wei Wuxian’s brow.

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian smiles, scrunching up his nose as if he’s being mischievous. “Can I stay, oh great Sect leader Jiang?”

He’s so obviously unhappy that it makes Jiang Cheng’s jaw ache.

“I promise I won’t stay long. Maybe just a week. And I’ll be quiet. You’ll barely know I’m here!”

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng sighs, stepping to the side to let Wei Wuxian in through the gate. “Since when have you needed my permission to stay here.”

“Your kindness knows no bounds, great Sect Leader Jiang,” Wei Wuxian says, bowing obnoxiously as he slides his way past Jiang Cheng.

“It knows bounds and I’m sure you’ll test them,” Jiang Cheng replies, kicking at Wei Wuxian’s knees as he follows him inside.

Wei Wuxian hums as he walks and excitedly waves to disciples he knows.

To anyone else, he probably looks careless and happy, but Jiang Cheng knows better.

He can see the tense set of his shoulders, the forced bounce in his steps, the fake lift of his lips and the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

His stupid brother is miserable and it’s obvious. Achingly so.

It makes something clench tightly in Jiang Cheng’s stomach. A strange, stuffy feeling in his chest. It’s…

Irritating.

“You know where your room is,” he says, wanting to quickly part from Wei Wuxian before this irritation grows into something bigger. “Should I expect your stupid husband to be here soon?”

That Lan-er will know how to handle a sad Wei Wuxian. And, historically speaking, wherever Wei Wuxian goes, Lan-er is soon to follow. There’s no way he’d let Wei Wuxian just hang out in Lotus Pier by himself for a week.

Wei Wuxian stumbles over his own feet at the mention of the Lan-er.

“Ah, Lan Zhan?” he asks, a weak smile on his face.

Strange.

“He’s not coming.”

Very strange.

Jiang Cheng feels a strange nervousness join the irritation in his stomach. If the Lan-er isn’t coming, then…

Then Jiang Cheng is going to have to…

“Well whatever, whatever,” he says hurriedly, turning away to walk towards the main hall. “Do whatever you want.”

It’s not Jiang Cheng’s problem and Jiang Cheng doesn’t care.

He doesn’t.

So what if his stupid brother is stupidly sad? What if it has something to do with his equally stupid husband? Who cares?

Not Jiang Cheng.

Yep.

Jiang Cheng does not care at all.

---

Jiang Cheng successfully spends the whole day not caring about his stupid sad brother and his stupid sad marital problems.

He eats lunch and even dinner with Wei Wuxian and pretends to fall for his stupid ‘I’m totally fine and super happy’ façade. Wei Wuxian is obviously putting in a lot of effort to appear normal. It’s basically a kindness to go along with it.

It is.

Anyway, it isn’t Jiang Cheng’s problem and Jiang Cheng doesn’t care.

So when his head disciple catches him as he’s walking back to his room after dinner and tells him that Hanguang-jun has checked in to a local inn by the piers, Jiang Cheng just waves him off.

Not his problem. He doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care.

Except…

Except it’s very rude of the Lan-er to come to Lotus Pier and not pay respects to the sect leader. Jiang Cheng should probably go and set him straight.

Yeah.

---

Lan-er looks an absolute mess as he opens the door for Jiang Cheng.

His hair is perfect, of course, and his clothes are perfect, of course, and his expression is the same placid expression he always wears, but he looks a mess.

It’s just something about his aura.

He’s obviously torn up about something.

Or maybe Jiang Cheng is projecting – whatever.

“Very rude to come all the way to Lotus Pier without paying respects to the sect leader, don’t you think?” Jiang Cheng asks as he walks into the room. “Even more disrespectful to disregard my hospitality and choose to stay in an inn instead of Lotus Pier.” He sits down at the table and considers whether or not the Lan-er would take offense if he orders some wine.

Lan-er takes a seat across from him, his expression betraying no emotion other than what might be slight annoyance. “Wei Ying wishes to be… alone.” Lan-er’s voice does something strange as he says alone and his brow twitches just bit and it does something strange to his face – it makes him look… like he might be seconds away from bursting into tears.

Fuck Lan-er’s feelings. Jiang Cheng yells for some wine.

“Did he say that? Because he hasn’t really been alone since he’s come here,” Jiang Cheng says, pouring some wine into his cup. “He spent all day with the disciples and he ate lunch and dinner with me.”

Lan-er’s face does something strange again, and he almost – almost – sighs.

“So what you really mean is Wei Wuxian told you not to follow him to Lotus Pier, right?”

Lan-er doesn’t answer but his silence is answer enough for Jiang Cheng. He downs his cup of wine.

This really isn’t his problem. 

“What the fuck did you do?” Jiang Cheng asks, and his voice comes out angrier than he means it to.

He’s not angry.

Well…

He shouldn’t be angry.

Because this isn’t his problem… but…

He slams his cup down on the table. “I know that fucking idiot – I can’t think of a thing in this world you could do to make him angry with you, so whatever you did must be pretty bad,” he says. 

He can feel hot anger growing in his stomach with every word that comes out of his mouth. His idiot brother thinks that the Lan-er is the best thing since music was first created. The Lan-er could probably tell his stupid brother to cut his hands off and Wei Wuxian would probably do it happily. If Wei Wuxian is upset with the Lan-er…

Upset enough to leave…

Jiang Cheng has to let go of the cup in his hand or risk it shattering. He’s so angry his fingers shake.

“I will personally escort you out of Yunmeng unless you tell me what you did,” he threatens lowly.

Lan-er just looks down at the table and if Jiang Cheng didn’t know better – if Jiang Cheng didn’t know that this was the man who stood against the world with Wei Wuxian – then he would assume that Lan-er didn’t care.

But Jiang Cheng knows better.

The Lan-er has to care. He has to.

He came all the way to Yunmeng and checked into this small inn by the water because he… because he cares.

The Lan-er doesn’t sigh, but he breathes deeply before he opens his mouth.

“I…” he closes his mouth again, his brow furrowing just the slightest bit in frustration. He looks up, and for the first time since Jiang Cheng entered the room, he meets Jiang Cheng’s eyes. “I can’t seem to stop… grieving.”

Jiang Cheng feels the anger in his body leave him in a sudden gush. Confusion rushing in to replace it.

Jiang Cheng just stares at Lan-er.

Lan-er stares back.

Grieving.

Grieving?

What does Lan-er have to grieve?

Jiang Cheng refills his cup with wine and breaks eye contact with the Lan-er. He drinks his wine slowly and breathes. He needs to handle this… carefully. The Lan-er is obviously going through something.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he asks finally.

Lan-er looks back down to the table and something about his expression lets Jiang Cheng know that Lan-er totally regrets admitting anything to Jiang Cheng. He thinks Jiang Cheng is a fucking idiot. Which isn’t fair because it’s the Lan-er who isn’t making any fucking sense.

Jiang Cheng takes a breath and tries to ask the question again – even more carefully.

“What the fuck, or who the fuck are you grieving? And why is Wei Wuxian upset about it?”

Great job. Jiang Cheng is really good at this. All those years mediating shit for Jin Ling have really paid off.

Lan-er closes his eyes for a moment and breathes out slowly. He opens them and looks back up to meet Jiang Cheng’s gaze.

“I can’t seem to stop grieving Wei Ying,” he says slowly, his gaze steady, his words sure. He says it like it should make sense.

Jiang Cheng fills his cup again and looks at Lan-er in concern. “Wei Wuxian is alive,” he says earnestly, because maybe the Lan-er is going through some mental breakdown. “He’s annoying the shit out of me at Lotus Pier.”

Lan-er shakes his head just the slightest bit. “I understand Wei Ying is alive,” he says, “but… I grieved for him for so long and… and I can’t seem to stop.”

Ah.

Jiang Cheng thinks he can… understand… a little bit.

“You mean you’re scared?” he asks quietly.

Lan-er grimaces just a little, as if Jiang Cheng’s words hit a little too close to home and he nods.

“Wei Ying says it makes him feel lonely. He says that perhaps I’m more in love with his memory than…”

This is so not Jiang Cheng’s problem and way above Jiang Cheng’s pay grade. He doesn’t… Jin Ling’s problems never prepared him for this.

He drinks his cup of wine slowly, to buy some time and to gather some liquid courage.

“Well,” he starts, waving his cup towards Lan-er like it might offer up some answers, “You know, he’s an idiot.”

Lan-er’s expression shutters close. “Wei Ying is not an idiot,” he says tersely.

“He is,” Jiang Cheng replies firmly. “He’s an idiot for sure. And that idiot is at Lotus Pier right now, miserable as hell, because he thinks he might be the reason you might be even a little bit unhappy.”

Lan-er looks up at Jiang Cheng again.

“That idiot is stupidly in love with you. You know that, right?” Jiang Cheng asks. “Knowing him, he’s probably preparing himself to leave you so you can find some greater happiness or something.”

Lan-er’s brows furrow together. “There is no greater happiness than Wei Ying,” he says seriously, as if that isn’t the grossest thing Jiang Cheng has ever heard.

“Don’t tell me that,” Jiang Cheng says with a roll of his eyes, “Go tell Wei Wuxian that!”

“Wei Ying said he wants to be alone,” Lan-er says dejectedly.

Jiang Cheng sighs and refills his cup. He’s well on his way to tipsy now and his tolerance for stupidity is going down with every sip of wine.

“You know he lies, right?” Jiang Cheng asks, “He lies like… all the fucking time.”

Lan-er just stares at him as if Jiang Cheng is speaking in another language.

It’s almost funny.

“He says he’s okay when he’s obviously not, he smiles when he doesn’t feel like smiling,” Jiang Cheng says as examples, “Oh! And you probably didn’t even know he noticed you were grieving until he just blew up about it, right?”

Lan-er nods slowly.

“You get it now? Your stupid husband lies.”

“My husband is not stupid,” Lan-er says.

Jiang Cheng waves it off with his cup of wine, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. What I mean is that Wei Wuxian lied about wanting to be alone. He doesn’t want to be alone – trust me.”

Lan-er just stares at Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Cheng might just be imagining it but it looks like there’s some sort of hopeful light in Lan-er’s eyes – like he might be desperately wanting to believe Jiang Cheng.

He should believe Jiang Cheng. Jiang Cheng is right.

“But I can’t stop grieving,” Lan-er says softly, the hopeful light in his eyes dying.

“Of course you can’t stop grieving,” Jiang Cheng says, and he’s almost done with his bottle of wine at this point. This conversation needs to be over before his wine is done.

Lan-er looks at Jiang Cheng in question. Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. Wei Wuxian and his husband owe Jiang Cheng so much for this. So. Much

“You love him,” Jiang Cheng says slowly, “You probably love him more than you did twenty years ago. More than you did last year, right?”

Lan-er nods.

“So of course you can’t stop grieving,” Jiang Cheng says, “You’ve already experienced what it’s like to lose him. You can’t stop grieving because your heart is just trying to prepare itself for the worst possible outcome.”

Lan-er lifts a hand to hold over his heart. He doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t look quite convinced.

“Look, your grieving is probably keeping mementos and writing shit down about Wei Wuxian and just trying your best to remember him, right? Trying your best to keep as much of him as you can?”

Lan-er nods slowly, as if he’s a little bit suspicious of how Jiang Cheng might know this. “Did Wei Ying…?”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes again. He’s all out of wine and patience. “No,” he says, “that idiot hasn’t said a word to me about your little problem.” He stands then and walks over to the corner where a small satchel is – all the Lan-er brought with him to Yunmeng. “You can’t stop grieving him because you’re so stupidly in love with him that the thought of losing him scares you to fucking death.”

He picks up the satchel and throws it to Lan-er who, annoyingly enough, catches it easily. “Spare my idiot brother a night of misery. Come to Lotus Pier.”

Jiang Cheng walks out the inn, not even bothering to look back to see if the Lan-er will follow. He’s done all he can. If the idiot in white still chooses to stay at the inn, well… Jiang Cheng will chase him out of Yunmeng tomorrow.

---

Lan-er catches up to him about midway to Lotus Pier. He’s quiet and Jiang Cheng feels perfectly content to keep the silence. He feels warm and light from the wine and the night is cool and clear. He feels…

“How did you know the reason for my grieving?” Lan-er says suddenly. It’s unlike him to break the silence first. He must really want to know.

Jiang Cheng has half a mind not to tell him. He sort of wants to keep this to himself. But maybe it’s the wine or the clear night or just his general good mood but…

“I grieve Jin Ling,” he admits lightly. “He was the only family I had after I lost everyone. He was just a little baby; you know? But I was constantly terrified of losing him. Even now, I still have the clothes he used to wear when he was a toddler. I have the first bow I gave him. The first shoes he wore when he could first walk. I remember, I used to just stare at him because I was afraid I might forget what he looked like.”

He doesn’t look at Lan-er as he admits this. And it’s strange to admit this to Lan-er of all people. But… Lan-er can keep a secret – Jiang Cheng knows this. Maybe that’s why he feels safe to admit it.

“Luckily, Jin Ling isn’t a fucking idiot like my brother,” he says, “Jin Ling just thinks I’m a sentimental uncle.”

Lan-er doesn’t say anything in response, but Jiang Cheng finds he doesn’t care.

It’s a strange feeling to learn something new about someone he thought he knew all about, even stranger to learn that someone he thought infallible shares the same fears as him.

It’s… strange.

But under the cool clear skies of Yunmeng, he feels strangely close to Lan-er.

Strange.

[babyyweebbitch]

Please stay with me — Remake

Soo I reread the one I did before and I wanted to remake it because it wasn’t as good (heres the first one) I hope I can make this one better 😭😭 Also, grab tissues. I made this TOO sad

TW // death ; blood ; funeral ; severe depression & relapse

summary: Chris Redfield and his wife were on a mission a seven months after Piers’ death. His wife has been Captain of their team ever since that day.

Seven months ago Piers Nivans died in order to save Chris’ life and for the BSAA. Chris was still fucked up after that day and he thinks about it almost every day. He took a break from the BSAA since his wife made him. It wasn’t a very long one though, he missed being at work, he missed his coworkers and he missed her

Chris resigned as Captain and let his wife replace him. It was a very emotional day not not only for her and Chris but for the entire BSAA because they’ve never had a woman as Captain before. She was a good captain probably even better than Chris. Despite her height, weight and basically being the youngest on that team at 28. She was undoubtedly the best captain in years

Her team along with Chris were on a mission. Their mission was to take out the enemy, find three hostages and disable the bombs set in the building “Okay men… we’re gonna be splitting into three teams since there’s a lot of us here. Team A; Corey, John and Andrew. Your job is to find out where the bombs are and disable them as quickly as possible.”

“Yes ma’am!” The three went off to do their job as told

“Team B; Phil, Jean and Mark, you’re in charge of finding and getting the hostages to safety out of this building. You three can split up, stay together I don’t care. As long as your job is done”

“Ma’am” the three left

She turned to Eric and Chris who were standing together “what a coincidence, you two are with me.” She said with a slight smile on her face, walking ahead of the two Eric leaned over to Chris “She’s so cool…” Chris thought of Finn the moment he said that, he couldn’t help but to smile and look at him “I know…”

“Stop standing around we have a mission you know!” She yelled out to the two of them. Chris and Eric quickly made their way to the door the enemies were behind, Chris was silent the entire time before he was quickly checked back into reality with a pat on the shoulder “you okay? We need you fully here for this” his wife said as he looked down at her and nodded “yeah I’m okay…”

Chris, his wife and Eric all prepared as the door was blown open and guns were firing. The three did take cover just in time. After about five minutes of gun fire and fighting it finally stopped, thinking they had all the enemies taken care of they all stood up “good job! We did it — Chris!” Y/N called out as she did catch a glimpse of an enemy that didn’t die somehow standing up and pointing their gun towards Chris.

She quickly ran towards Chris and pushed him out the way, for Chris it’s almost like everything was happening in slow motion. He had to process everything leading up to that moment. He heard a scream of pain when his head finally cleared, looking up to see his wife shot in the sternum and Eric shooting the enemy down

She started to fall and Chris caught her before she hit the floor, his eyes started filling up with tears as he looked at her “baby please… tell me this is a joke!”

She knew she was dying, her body felt so cold from the inside out she, she coughed before reaching into one of her many pokes on her pants “c…Chris… do me a favour okay? Please…. stay safe” she handed him her wedding ring, she never wore it during missions to avoid it getting broken, rusted or something. So she held it in her pocket where it was safe “I… feel so… cold”

Chris looked at the ring then at her “no don’t say that! You’re gonna be fine! You’re gonna be fine! Please stay with me!” He started crying, Eric stood by as Team B; Phil, Jean and Mark came in. They surprisingly finished the bomb quicker than expected “Captain w—“ Mark was starting to talk but he quickly stopped when he realised what was happening

“Guys… take care of him for me…” she struggled to talk. She looked up at Chris to see him crying, she lifted her Hand up to his cheek to wipe his tears one last time “no no… don’t cry hon… I’ll tell my parents you said hi… I love you..” Chris held onto her hand and his heart practically stopped the moment he felt her hand and body go heavy and her head fall back … she was dead now

“No…. Please come back! Please don’t go! Y/N!!!” He held her body close and just sobbed, Eric and team B were tearing up and trying to wipe their tears

It took a while to get Chris to let go of her body and let them put her on a stretcher and on the truck so they can go back. When they finally did everyone on the team was there. It took three guys to pry him off of her This was the first time they’ve ever seen him cry like this

—————————

It’s been almost a month since she’s died, Chris looked horrible. He hasn’t shaved, left the house, he started drinking again and Claire had to clean him up at night since he wasn’t sober enough to even do it himself. The house looked like shit especially the room Chris and his wife shared

It was the day of the funeral and Chris was sitting on the edge of the bed looking at the picture of him and her on their wedding day back in 2007. He somehow managed to even get up that day and not drink. He showered that morning, got dressed in a suit and did his hair. He still didn’t shave though

Claire came in “Chris? You ready?” She asked. She had on a black dress on “I guess so…” Chris responded. He stood up and placed the picture down on the night stand and grabbed the necklace he had with his wife’s ring on it.

Claire fixed his tie and jacket before they left. Chris was always taking care of her when she was younger so now it was time for her to take care of her older brother “good. Let’s go” Claire let him walk in front of her to the car. She drove because one he couldn’t think straight enough to drive and he was completely hung over from drinking too much

After about a 45 minute drive they arrived to where her funeral was being held at. Everyone they knew was there, Leon, their BSAA team, Her family. It was hard for him to see her brother and sister at their older sisters funeral

The ceremony, the viewing and speeches all happened and Chris barely even got through his speech without crying

(Im so so so sorry for this next part)

Chris’ speech: “Y/N was an amazing person, she always took care of everyone, me, her siblings, our team, Claire… everyone. She put everyone before herself no matter who they were. She joined the BSAA not because of herself because of her parents death in Raccoon City. She promised them she would do something in any way to stop what happened in Raccoon from ever happening again. She treated our team like her family and even the rookies as her kids even if they were a few years younger then her. She was an even amazing person and wife. And I miss her dearly.”

There wasn’t a single dry eye in that room when Chris said his speech. After everything, everyone went inside to eat and talk.

Chris sat with Claire and Y/N’s siblings. He just picked at his food and stared at the plate. He was terrifyingly silent before Leon came over “hey Chris… how are you holding up?” Leon asked as he stared at Chris. He could tell how hard this has affected Chris. “I’m fine…”

“Chris… You need to eat. All you’ve done in the past month was drink, workout and cry… You need to at least eat something” Claire said “she wouldn’t want this… Her or Piers wouldn’t want you to be like this. Y/N would be yelling at you if she saw you picking at your food like this. We both know she would”

Chris’ eyes started to water once again before he spoke “I…. I know.. but I just miss her so much, Claire… we were gonna start a family together… she wanted to have kids and get a bigger house so we can have a big family… now I can’t have one because she’s the only person I wanted a family with…” Chris sighed softly as he wiped his eyes

“I miss her too… we all do…” Leon commented looking down at his plate. Chris eventually ended up eating his food and everyone left to go home. The entire drive home was deafening to the point you can hear a pin drop

When he got home he changed inside a fresh pair of clothes and he started to clean the house, starting with the bedroom and ending in the Kitchen. He cleaned it exactly how she’d like it and when he was finished around 3:32 am he sat on the couch and sighed

They were right… She would yell at him if she saw the way he was, how the house was when she died

—————————

After a few years pass it’s before the entire Village situation. Every week since the funeral Chris visited her grave and just talked to her for a bit. On her birthday he spent almost half the day there, on new year’s he watched the fireworks by your gave.

He still hasn’t moved on since her death he can’t even get into another relationship with a woman since her death but it’s not like he can find anyone else like her… and honestly he didn’t want to.

IM SO FUCKING SORRY FOR MAKING THIS EVEN SADDER tbh tho I started tearing up writing this

[plainbrunettelbl]

ABO (A) Half Shark Kirishima Eijiro x (O) Reader Forever Love

Word count: 4921

Warnings: None. 

Title: ABO (A) Half Shark Kirishima Eijiro x (O) Reader Forever Love

Summary: You go to the beach and meet a strange shark tooth Alpha. 

(Gif not mine) 

🦈-Summer was here and you were ready to enjoy the sun. 

🦈-You wasted no time packing a beach bag and driving to see the gritty sand and blue water. You wore a pair of sunglasses, you were glad you did since the sun was high in the sky and it wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon. 

🦈-You all but leaped out of your car and dashed across the sand. You adored summer and missed the feeling of sand under your feet. Before you could get fully sucked in by the sparkling waves you made sure to put on a thick layer of sunscreen. 

🦈-You didn’t want to mess with skin cancer. 

🦈-Once you were all lathered up you set your beach towel down and sat on it until the sunscreen had soaked in a bit. As soon as your phone beeped telling you it was time you were running into the blue water. 

🦈-The cool water was a shock to your body but you embraced it the feeling.

🦈-You were heating up a bit sitting on the beach so it was really refreshing having the cool water lapping against your skin. You should have brought a tube but you were in a hurry to get to the beach so you left it for another time. 

🦈-You pushed all your thoughts away and simply floated. 

🦈-It was twenty minutes later that you opened your eyes. You paused as you looked around and saw that you were farther from the shore than you thought. You weren't the greatest swimmer around so you started to panic a bit but your focus on the distance between you and the shore was pushed aside when something brushed against your foot. 

🦈-You looked down and gasped. A grey fin and shark teeth greeted you. You swiftly kicked at the figure and tried to swim away. You didn’t get very far before a red-headed man sputtered up in front of you. You paused your escape and gaped at him. 

🦈-“Why did you kick me?” He whined, rubbing the top of his head. 

🦈-“Why did you touch my feet?” You argued, if you weren’t using your arms to keep you upright you would have thrown them in air. 

🦈-“I was interested in your second hands.” He frowned, pushing his crimson hair out of his eyes. 

🦈-You spotted silver skin scattered around his tan hand. It almost reminded you of scales. If that didn’t alert you to the fact that he wasn’t human his gills did. Three neatly lined gills fluttered on his neck. The sight was intriguing. 

🦈-“My second hands? You mean my feet?” You asked, still gliding your arms around to keep you upright now that you weren’t floating on your back. 

🦈-“The second hands you have keeping you afloat. I have a tail and you have second hands.” He pointed out, lifting his tail higher to the surface to show you.  

🦈-His tail reminded you of a shark, grey on the sides but white in the middle. If his sharp teeth were any indicator you would say he was some type of shark male hybrid. If he were to turn around you would probably see a shark fin on his back. 

🦈-“Are you gonna eat me?” You almost slapped your self at the stupid question that escaped your mouth. 

🦈-“What?! Why would I eat you? I don’t eat humans.” He huffed, obviously offended you thought he would eat you. 

🦈-Not only have you met a half-human hybrid but you managed to kick him in the face and offend him in all of but five minutes. You wouldn’t be surprised if he decided he did want to eat you. 

🦈-“Then what do you eat?” You asked, tilting your head at him. 

🦈-He drew his head back, surprised that you asked him such a question. Weren’t humans supposed to be scared of someone like him? This is the most human contact he has gotten in decades. His Alpha was oddly quiet in your presence. 

🦈-Was he observing the strange human too? Nevertheless, this human wasn’t afraid of him, he found that admirable of her. He didn’t have many friends. His best friend was a tan puffer fish that was annoyed at him half the time. 

🦈-“Fish, like any other shark.” He said, grinning at the thought of feasting on the scaly creature, his razor-sharp teeth making an appearance again. 

🦈-“Oh.” You replied, your brain trying to catch up with everything. 

🦈-“What do you eat?” He asked, curious about what humans consume. He sometimes saw humans licking a cream-like treat or eating something round and long on a stick. He was interested in what this little human ate. 

🦈-“Ummm… food? Red meat? Vegetables?” You said, not sure what he wanted to hear. 

🦈-“Is red meat good? Better than fish?” He asked, excited by this new information. 

🦈-“I can get you some if you want. I know they sell kabobs on the pier.” You thought, remembering people walk by you with some in their hands while you waited for your sunscreen to soak in. 

🦈-“You would bring me some!” His eyes sparkled, excited at the thought of trying something other than fish. 

🦈-“I mean yeah, I could.” You answered, trying not to blush over his excited face. This male shark hybrid was a handsome one. It was the least you could do, you did kick him in the face and offend the poor guy. 

🦈-“Wait, but then you would have to leave. How do I know if you are coming back?” He narrowed his eyes, not eager for this sweet-smelling human to leave yet. His Alpha pushed forward and nearly growled at the thought. 

🦈-In truth, the poor male was attention-starved. He was a pretty intimidating guy, all the sea life tended to stay away from him. Now that he had someone’s attention he didn’t want them to go away. He didn’t have to dwell much on the thought of you leaving before a soft sound invaded his ears. 

🦈-It was a gentle ring that made his whole body warm. You were giggling at his brooding face. 

🦈-“Of course I am coming back. Now that I know you aren’t gonna eat me I can pester you with all sorts of questions.” You smiled, thinking of all the tales he would have about the deep blue sea. 

🦈-This would be an interesting friendship… or more. 

***

🦈-Your friendship has bloomed over the last two weeks. It was tradition to come down to the beach whenever you could and buy him a kabob before making your way down to the pier. The main pier was busy and bustling with people but the small one meant for the local fishermen was still pretty vacant and empty. 

🦈-You tried to stay in the water the first week but it just wasn’t practical. You had to wash and dry your swimsuit so many times it was tearing at the seams. Floating on a tube was better but it still had its drawbacks. 

🦈-Your fingers and toes would winkle like raisins. 

🦈-Eijiro was fascinated by your feet and wouldn’t stop trying to touch and nibble on them. You had noticed pretty quickly that although he wasn’t interested in eating you he had some sort of fascination with softly nibbling on you. 

🦈-When you asked him about it he said it was a shark thing. He has grown up with his parents doing it so he thought it was normal to do so to his new human friend. 

🦈-You had just sat down at the pier and dipped your feet into the cold water, not even a second later a sharp pair of teeth were nibbling on your toes. You let out an airy giggle, already used to his odd behavior.

🦈-“Save the chewing for your kabob, Eijiro.” You teased, lifting your toes out of the water and leaned down to show the steaming kabob to him. 

🦈-He was quick to burst out of the water and snatch it up with his sharp teeth. He reminded you of a human version of jaws when he did that. 

🦈-“Thank you, Y/N. You know you don’t have to keep buying me meat all the time.” He said while nearly chomping on the wooden stick. 

🦈-“I don’t mind. If I didn’t spend it on you I would spend it on something else. Like this bracelet. I saw it while walking down the pier to get your kabob. It caught my eye and I instantly purchased it.  It’s too big for me but I like the color.” You hummed, showing him the threaded black and red bracelet on your wrist. 

🦈-In the time it took you to respond he had already finished his kabob, he made sure to put the stick on the pier. You would take it later and throw it away properly. 

🦈-“Oh, that’s a nice bracelet.” He commented, not taking his eyes off it. 

🦈-He peered at it with an awed look in his eyes. Completely unrelated he lifted his hand to mess with his hair, showcasing his empty wrist. Silently hoping you would spot it and say something. 

🦈-“Oh! Would you like it? I don’t think I can wear it without worrying it would slide off. You have a bigger wrist than me so it should fit you better.” You offered, taking off the red bracelet and dangling it on your finger above him. 

🦈-You never saw him move that fast before. The bracelet was already snatched out of your hand and on his wrist in the blink of an eye. You were right, it fit more snug on his tanned wrist than yours. 

🦈-“Make sure not to lose it. I bet it is a whole other story losing something in the sea rather than on land.” You thought, swishing your legs in the water. 

🦈-“I won’t take it off.” He nearly growled, something primal lurked in his eyes.  

🦈-Your Omega was nearly purring at the look. You merely nodded and shifted your eyes to the blue sky. You noticed there were a lot more clouds in the sky than normal, you hoped it didn’t rain. 

🦈-“What happens when it rains? Do you go back to your cave and wait it out like a regular human?” You questioned, looking down into his ruby eyes. 

🦈-“Sometimes I stock up on fish when it is just a small shower. If it starts lightning and thundering I usually chill in my den until it passes. You don’t want to be out in the open when lightning strikes down.” He commented, holding back a wince. 

🦈-“Huh. I hadn’t thought about that.” You said, kicking your feet out and splashing his face with water. 

🦈-He retaliated by catching on of your feet and playfully chewing on it. His teeth were tickling you, you reach down and grab a handful of his red hair. You tried to yank him off but he wouldn’t budge. He was a stubborn shark when it came to his prey. 

🦈-Not that you were prey to him. He just considered you to be his. Especially after your little gift to him. To give shark-kind a gift it meant you had started the courting process. The next time he saw you he would give you one back, to solidify your courtship. 

🦈-“Quit it Eijiro! You’re tickling me.” You laughed, leaning down even further, your face inches from his. 

🦈-Once he felt your soft breath on his face he let go and tilted his head up at you. Now it was your turn to fell his breath on your face. The closeness was enough to make your Omega swoon. You felt your mind was playing tricks on you when you heard a gentle purr coming from him. 

🦈-It was like you were in a trance, your eyes caught his lips and it was all you could focus on. You slowly felt yourself leaning even further down to him. He was leaning forward as well. His breath coming out in big pants. 

🦈-His tail was swishing rapidly in the water. Almost like a puppies tail would when they get excited. 

🦈-“You trying to drown yourself, girl!” An older man’s voice called out from the distance. 

🦈-You quickly put both of your feet on Eijiro’s shoulders and pushed him down. You would have been worried if he was human but since he was half-shark you knew he would be safe. Safer than someone finding out his kind existed. 

🦈-Sure there were shifters on land but people held major prejudice against them. You could only imagine the type of hysteria if humans found out they were surrounded by shifters on land and in the water. 

🦈-Maybe it was because you knew a few shifters and that was why you didn’t freak out when you first discovered him. 

🦈-“I thought I saw a crab!” You yelled, turning to look over your shoulder. 

🦈-An old man with a long fishing pole made his way down the pier. He wore a yellow raincoat with boots to match. He was the definition of fisherman. 

🦈-“Well, that’s good to hear. I hope to catch a lot of them tonight. Supposed to start raining soon.” He drawled, tipping his yellow hat up at the sky. 

🦈-While he was talking you still felt the warmth of Eijiro’s shoulders on your feet. You tapped him on both shoulders, silently telling him to swim away. His response was to slide a hand up your ankle. He wasn’t leaving until you were. 

🦈-“Oh. I better get going then. I wouldn’t want to get caught in the rain.” You said, leaning one hand down to clasp his hand and squeeze it before pulling your feet out of the water and slipping back on your flip flops. 

🦈-You made sure to grab his kabob stick before leaving. You shot him one last look. He was still submerged under the water. His face reminded you of a wounded puppy. You were leaving so soon. Your Omega was whining at the ordeal but there wasn’t much you could do. 

🦈-You didn’t bring your swimsuit so you couldn’t swim with him. Plus the rain wouldn’t have helped matters either. He would have to go back to his cave anyways. 

🦈-“See you later, little crab.” You softly said, giving him a half-smile.

🦈-You turned around and began walking back to your car. You couldn’t believe you were about to kiss him! Your heart was pounding in your chest. He was your friend, not your boyfriend!

🦈-You had to get your emotions under control. You both were from two separate lands, it would never work. You pushed down your sadness and kept walking down the pier, leaving a sad shark behind. 

***

🦈-“Hey, Y/n, do you have the paperwork I told you have done ready?” One of your Alpha coworkers asked, peering over at you in your small cubical. 

🦈-“Yeah, I just finished typing it up.” You replied, leaning over your desk to get the file. 

🦈-Your scent must have wafted her way. 

🦈-“Are you seeing anyone? Your scent smells different. Kinda reminds me of the ocean.” She prodded, eager to hear some gossip.  

🦈-You instantly flushed, your little trips to the beach must be affecting your scent. It was usually a soft peppermint smell. Now it was intertwined with a hint of saltwater. 

🦈-“N-no, I’m not seeing anyone. I think it is just because I am spending so much time at the beach lately.” You answered, handing her the file over your cubical wall. 

🦈-“Oh, well you should go on a few courting dates. Nothing better than summer love.” She grinned, thinking of all the Omega’s she could court this summer. 

🦈-“I’ll let you know if I do.” You said, looking back over at your computer screen. 

🦈-Should you start looking for a potential Alpha? You had no reason not to look for one. At that moment a certain shark-toothed male popped up into your head. 

🦈-No! He was off-limits. You should focus on Alphas you could actual court. 

🦈-It was decided, you would start looking for a potential mate. 

***

🦈-“So, have you eaten here before?” You asked, looking up from your plate of spaghetti, you speared a big meatball and brought it to your mouth. 

🦈-You had met him on a dating app. You didn’t know that he was vegetarian until he was ordering at the start of the date. You had placed your order before him so it was a tiny bit embarrassing eating meat in front of him. 

🦈-“Yes. They have a really good vegetarian selection here.” He said, looking down at his meatless meal. 

🦈-You had to admit that this Alpha was very attractive. He had had shoulder-length brown hair, glowing golden eyes, and a strong jawline. He would have made your Omega melt if it wasn’t for someone else. 

🦈-During the meal you found yourself comparing this Alpha to the sliver skinned one that seemed to take up your thoughts. 

🦈-Your Omega couldn’t help but nick-pick at him. 

🦈-He didn’t love meat like a certain someone, his teeth are dull, and he doesn’t have spiky crimson hair. He was nothing like her Alpha. Yes, her Alpha. She had started calling him that after your last encounter. You tried to correct her but she wasn’t having it. 

🦈-You tried to listen to the Alpha sitting across from you but your heart wasn’t into it. Your heart seemed to feel heavy lately, it might have had something to do with your absence from the beach. You hadn’t been back to the pier for a whole week. 

🦈-Your heart was telling you it was time to reunite with the muscled male. You finally submitted to those thoughts. You would go to see him tomorrow. 

🦈-That had your Omega purring and bouncing around. She was finally gonna see her Alpha!

***

🦈-Your Omega was jumping around excitingly as soon as you pulled into the beach parking area. She was gonna see her Alpha! You had an image of her rolling around on her back happily. You, on the other hand, were a bit nervous stepping out of the car. 

🦈-You knew going to the pier wasn’t an option. 

🦈-Your Omega had cut off that train of thought as soon as it appeared and wouldn’t even let you consider it. She wanted you in the water and as close to her Alpha as you could get. You knew this absence was hard on her so you didn’t argue.

🦈-Since your other bathing suit was beyond repair you went out and bought a new one. 

🦈-A solid red one. It was a tiny bit more revealing than your other one but once you saw it you knew it was the one. Your Omega chirped in agreement, stating that it matched Eijiro’s eyes. You felt pretty confident in it. 

🦈-You had paired it with a white cover-up. You grabbed your beach bag and made your way down to the sand. The instant your feet touched the sand you felt a pair of eyes on you. You knew whose eyes they were. 

🦈-You knew if you looked out into the water you would catch a glimpse of him but you stopped yourself. You knew if you saw his red hair peeking through the waves you would skip putting on sunscreen and dive into the water. 

🦈-You didn’t need to deal with a sunburn along with your confusing feelings. 

🦈-So you lathered up and waited, much to your Omega’s disappointment. You made sure to put on a lot because you knew as soon as you stepped into the ocean Eijiro wasn’t gonna let you out of his grasp for one second. 

🦈-From the intensity of his gaze, you were half thinking he was gonna drag you under and take you to his cave. 

🦈-Once your sunscreen was dry you finally headed towards the water. The water was cold as usual but it wasn’t the reason why your skin was covered in goosebumps. Your heart was pounding each step. Once the water went up to your waist you started swimming further from the shoreline. 

🦈-You were barely halfway to where you usually meet up when you felt his touch on your ankle. Just by the grip alone, you knew he was just as touched starved as you. This week without him made you miss his gentle caresses on your legs and the oddly comforting way he nibbled on you. 

🦈-Once you swam far enough for the shore he yanked you down. Your eyes stung at the saltwater but that didn’t stop you from looking at him underwater. His smile was big and wide, his razor-sharp teeth on full display. 

🦈-He didn’t waste a second pulling you into his arms. The cold water was long forgotten when you were tucked safely in his warm embrace. If you weren’t already holding your breath it would have been taken away. 

🦈-He couldn’t hear your Omega’s purring but he felt the vibrations coming from your chest. 

🦈-He instantly let out his own warm purr. He was so happy you finally showed up! He was worried you had somehow forgotten about him. That maybe you didn’t enjoy his company as much as he enjoyed yours. 

🦈-He swore he wouldn’t even care if you never brought him another piece of red meat again. As long as he had you in his arms he was satisfied. He didn’t hold himself back from nibbling on your neck a little now that he had you wrapped up in his grasp. His Alpha telling him that this was the spot he planned to mark when he bonded to you. 

🦈-He tapped his shoulder, signaling that you needed air, with reluctance he led you to the surface. 

🦈-He wanted to be underwater with you forever. Everything faded away when you were under the blue currents together. 

🦈-You broke the surface with a tiny gasp. 

🦈-“I’m so happy you’re back! I missed you.” He breathed, still not believing you were here in his arms and not somewhere on land where he couldn’t see or hold you. 

🦈-“I’m sorry. Things came up.” You said, not quite meeting his eyes. You didn’t want to see the sadness lurking in his ruby orbs. 

🦈-“That’s fine. I am just glad you are back.” He said, acting like he wasn’t desperately searching for you the entire week.

🦈-“You know I will always come back for my little crab.” You joked, hoping to lift the mood a bit. 

🦈-He laughed, playfully pushing you away. You laughed along with him, the heaviness in your chest from the past week finally lifting. 

🦈-“I’ll show you a crab!” He chuckled, making his hands into claws and pinching you. 

🦈-You giggled, trying to pinch him back. Something caught his eye, his gaze was focused in the direction of the shore. You turned to look and saw a blond surfer dude riding a wave. His hair looked a little familiar so you said so. 

🦈-“Huh, his hair reminds me of the Alpha I went on a courting date with. His hair was brown though.” You hummed, looking at the guy fall off his board. 

🦈-“Courting date? You went on a courting date?” His voice dropped a few octaves, his eyes turning hard. 

🦈-“Yeah? Is there a problem?” You asked, your eyebrow lifting. 

🦈-“A problem! Yes! We are courting Y/N!” He exclaimed, pulling his arm out of the water and pointing at the bracelet you gave him.

🦈-You tilted your head, confused. Did he think it was a courting gift? He couldn’t have. For it to be a courting gift it would need to be made by you. You were sure you told him you bought it from a shop on the pier. 

🦈-“I didn’t make it. It isn’t a courting gift, Eijiro.” As much as it hurt your heart to say it, it was true. 

🦈-“Yes, it is! If you give me a gift it means you want to court me. I accepted it so we are courting. I even have a gift for you.” He said, lifting up his other gift. A pearl bracelet sat on his wrist. It was obviously made for you since it looked way too small for his thick wrist. 

🦈-He slid it off and put it on you. The white pearls glistened under the sunlight. 

🦈-You looked at it in awe, the bracelet was beautifully made. The warm mood was broken when someone called out to you from behind. 

🦈-“You okay out there?” A voice yelled. 

🦈-You turned to see the surfer you both were talking about holding onto his board and look at you. He was about 20 feet from you so he couldn’t see your little red friend. That didn’t mean you didn’t shove the poor boy underwater.

🦈-Eijiro didn’t mind, he was just enjoying the feel of your hands on his shoulders.

🦈-You looked around and supposed you were a bit too far from shore.

🦈-“I’m fine! I’m a great swimmer.” You yelled back, smiling at the nicely tanned boy. 

🦈-While your swimming did improve a little after you started hanging out with the shark boy you still weren’t expert level. You only felt safe so far out in the deep because you had Eijiro by your side. You knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. 

🦈-The surfer gave you a nod and smile before turning his attention back on the upcoming waves. 

🦈-It was apparent Eijiro didn’t like that your attention was off him. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you down under the water with him. Before you could blink the saltwater out of your eyes his lips were on yours. 

🦈-In an instant, all of your worries and fears washed away. You sank into the kiss with a delighted purr. You brought your hands up and weaved them through his hair. Your legs wrapped around his waist. You tried not to smile as you felt him slightly nibble on your lip. 

🦈-The only thought running through your mind was that you knew Eijiro wouldn’t be your summer love, he would be your forever love. 

Bonus: 

🦈-You sat on your pier and waited for your Alpha to come back. That’s right, your pier. After you bonded with Eijiro you both found out he would be able to shift between human and half-shark. With his new second hands, he was free to join you on land. 

🦈-The first thing he did was rent a boat and became a fisherman. The boat was just a cover while he shifted into his half-shark form and rounded up fish to sell. It wasn’t long before he was bringing in some money and together you both purchased a beach house with its own pier. 

🦈-Right now you sat on the pier with a huge metal pot by your side. Usually, you would eagerly hold it in your lap but your baby bump wouldn’t let you. 

🦈-Not too long after you moved into the house the both of you found out you were carrying a pup. Eijiro’s nearly passed out in happiness that day.   

🦈-The one thing about this pup was that it loved seafood. Now Eijirio was a fan of red meat but his pup couldn’t get enough of the sea. Poor Eijiro was devastated when your pup wouldn’t let him cook red meat in the house anymore since it made you want to throw up at the smell. 

🦈-Still, he happily gave it up for the time being, anything to make sure you and the pup were both comfortable. 

🦈-Tonight was seafood boil, that was where the big pot came in handy. Your lovely Alpha was out hunting the savorly little things. Your mouth was already watering at the thought of them. Like he heard your thoughts, Eijiro popped out of the water proudly holding up a big net filled with your latest craving. 

🦈-You could have sworn your eyes were sparkling. 

🦈- “I caught a lot just in case you are still craving them tomorrow.” He happily stated, pulling himself up on the pier. His tail was gone in seconds and in their place were his strong calves. Once he was situated on the deck he put his net into the pot sitting by your side. 

🦈-“Thank you, Alpha! I am so excited!” You beamed, looking down at the pot. 

🦈-It seems your pup was excited as well, they were dancing up a storm. You lovingly rubbed your stomach before standing up and reaching for the pot. Eijiro was quick to brush your hands away and picked up the pot. 

🦈-He wasn’t about to let his Omega carry ten pounds of shrimp while pregnant with his pup. His Alpha nearly growled at the thought. He might have been a little overprotective of you now that you were with pup. 

🦈-The sun was dipping in the sky, everything was orange and blue. You leaned against your Alpha’s side as you walked back to your home. You couldn’t have been any happier. 

🦈-“I love you, my shark boi.” You said, nuzzling into his side. 

🦈-“I love you too, Omega.” He grinned, leaning down to place a kiss on your head. 

This was my first time writing a sort of shark/merman AU. Please tell me what you think of it! I might write more for it when summer hits. 

That being said, please wash your hands and stay safe guys! 

Please reblog and leave a note. Both really help motivate me to write more. 

[6peaches]

Richard Siken - You Are Jeff

1 There are two twins on motorbikes but one is farther up the road, beyond the hairpin turn, or just before it, depending on which twin you are in love with at the time. Do not choose sides yet. It is still to your advan- tage to remain impartial. Both motorbikes are shiny red and both boys have perfect teeth, dark hair, soft hands. The one in front will want to take you apart, and slowly. His deft and stubby fingers searching every shank and lock for weaknesses. You could love this boy with all your heart. The other brother only wants to stitch you back together. The sun shines down. It’s a beautiful day. Consider the hairpin turn. Do not choose sides yet.

2 There are two twins on motorbikes but one is farther up the road. Let’s call them Jeff. And because the first Jeff is in front we’ll consider him the older, and therefore responsible for lending money and the occa- sional punch in the shoulder. World-wise, world-weary, and not his mother’s favorite, this Jeff will always win when it all comes down to fisticuffs. Unfortunately for him, it doesn’t always all come down to fisticuffs. Jeff is thinking about his brother down the winding road be- hind him. He is thinking that if only he could cut him open and peel him back and crawl inside this second skin, then he could relive that last mile again: reborn, wild-eyed, free.

3 There are two twins on motorbikes but one is farther up the road, beyond the hairpin turn, or just before it, depending on which Jeff you are. It could have been so beautiful—you scout out the road ahead and I will watch your back, how it was and how it will be, memory and fantasy— but each Jeff wants to be the other one. My name is Jeff and I’m tired of looking at the back of your head. My name is Jeff and I’m tired of seeing my hand me down clothes. Look, Jeff, I’m telling you, for the last time, I mean it, etcetera. They are the same and they are not the same. They are the same and they hate each other for it.

4 Your name is Jeff and somewhere up ahead of you your brother has pulled to the side of the road and he is waiting for you with a lug wrench clutched in his greasy fist. O how he loves you, darling boy. O how, like always, he invents the monsters underneath the bed to get you to sleep next to him, chest to chest or chest to back, the covers drawn around you in an act of faith against the night. When he throws the wrench into the air it will catch the light as it spins toward you. Look—it looks like a star. You had expected something else, anything else, but the wrench never reaches you. It hangs in the air like that, spinning in the air like that. It’s beautiful.

5 Let’s say God in his High Heaven is hungry and has decided to make himself some tuna fish sandwiches. He’s already finished making two of them, on sourdough, before he realizes that the fish is bad. What is he going to do with these sandwiches? They’re already made, but he doesn’t want to eat them.

Let’s say the Devil is played by two men. We’ll call them Jeff. Dark hair, green eyes, white teeth, pink tongues—they’re twins. The one on the left has gone bad in the middle, and the other one on the left is about to. As they wrestle, you can tell that they have forgotten about God, and they are very hungry.

6 You are playing cards with three men named Jeff. Two of the Jeffs seem somewhat familiar, but the Jeff across from you keeps staring at your hands, your mouth, and you’re certain that you’ve never seen this Jeff before. But he’s on your team, and you’re ahead, you’re winning big, and yet the other Jeffs keep smiling at you like there’s no tomorrow. They all have perfect teeth: white, square, clean, even. And, for some reason, the lighting in the room makes their teeth seem closer than they should be, as if each mouth was a place, a living room with pink carpet and the window’s open. Come back from the window, Jefferson. Take off those wet clothes and come over here, by the fire.

7 You are playing cards with three Jeffs. One is your father, one is your brother, and the other is your current boyfriend. All of them have seen you naked and heard you talking in your sleep. Your boyfriend Jeff gets up to answer the phone. To them he is a mirror, but to you he is a room. Phone’s for you, Jeff says. Hey! It’s Uncle Jeff, who isn’t really your uncle, but you can’t talk right now, one of the Jeffs has put his tongue in your mouth. Please let it be the right one.

8 Two brothers are fighting by the side of the road. Two motorbikes have fallen over on the shoulder, leaking oil into the dirt, while the interlocking brothers grapple and swing. You see them through the backseat window as you and your parents drive past. You are twelve years old. You do not have a brother. You have never experienced anything this ferocious or intentional with another person. Your mother is pretending that she hasn’t seen anything. Your father is fiddling with the knobs of the radio. There is an empty space next to you in the backseat of the station wagon. Make it the shape of everything you need. Now say hello.

9 You are in an ordinary suburban bedroom with bunk beds, a bookshelf, two wooden desks and chairs. You are lying on your back, on the top bunk, very close to the textured ceiling, staring straight at it in fact, and the room is still dark except for a wedge of powdery light that spills in from the adjoining bathroom. The bathroom is covered in mint green tile and someone is in there, singing very softly. Is he singing to you? For you? Black cherries in chocolate, the ring around the moon, a bee- tle underneath a glass—you cannot make out all the words, but you’re sure he knows you’re in there, and he’s singing to you, even though you don’t know who he is.

10 You see it as a room, a tabernacle, the dark hotel. You’re in the hallway again, and you open the door, and if you’re ready you’ll see it, but maybe one part of your mind decides that the other parts aren’t ready, and then you don’t remember where you’ve been, and you find yourself down the hall again, the lights gone dim as the left hand sings the right hand back to sleep. It’s a puzzle: each piece, each room, each time you put your hand to the knob, your mouth to the hand, your ear to the wound that whispers.

You’re in the hallway again. The radio is playing your favorite song. You’re in the hallway. Open the door again. Open the door.

11 Suppose for a moment that the heart has two heads, that the heart has been chained and dunked in a glass booth filled with river water. The heart is monologing about hesitation and fulfillment while behind the red brocade the heart is drowning. Can the heart escape? Does love even care? Snow falls as we dump the booth in the bay.

Suppose for a moment we are crowded around a pier, waiting for something to ripple the water. We believe in you. There is no danger. It is not getting dark, we want to say.

12 Consider the hairpin turn. It is waiting for you like a red door or the broken leg of a dog. The sun is shining, O how the sun shines down! Your speedometer and your handgrips and the feel of the road below you, how it knows you, the black ribbon spread out on the greens be- tween these lines that suddenly don’t reach to the horizon. It is waiting, like a broken door, like the red dog that chases its tail and eats your rose- bushes and then must be forgiven. Who do you love, Jeff? Who do you love? You were driving toward something and then, well, then you found yourself driving the other way. The dog is asleep. The road is be- hind you. O how the sun shines down.

13 This time everyone has the best intentions. You have cancer. Let’s say you have cancer. Let’s say you’ve swallowed a bad thing and now it’s got its hands inside you. This is the essence of love and failure. You see what I mean but you’re happy anyway, and that’s okay, it’s a love story after all, a lasting love, a wonderful adventure with lots of action, where the mirror says mirror and the hand says hand and the front door never says Sorry Charlie. So the doctor says you need more stitches and the bruise cream isn’t working. So much for the facts. Let’s say you’re still completely in the dark but we love you anyway. We love you. We really do.

14 After work you go to the grocery store to get some milk and a carton of cigarettes. Where did you get those bruises? You don’t remember. Work was boring. You find a jar of bruise cream and a can of stewed tomatoes. Maybe a salad? Spinach, walnuts, blue cheese, apples, and you can’t decide between the Extra Large or Jumbo black olives. Which is bigger anyway? Extra Large has a blue label, Jumbo has a purple label. Both cans cost $1.29. While you’re deciding, the afternoon light is streaming through the windows behind the bank of checkout coun- ters. Take the light inside you like a blessing, like a knee in the chest, holding onto it and not letting it go. Now let it go.

15 Like sandpaper, the light, or a blessing, or a bruise. Blood everywhere, he said, the red light hemorrhaging from everywhere at once. The train station blue, your lips blue, hands cold and the blue wind. Or a horse, your favorite horse now raised up again out of the mud and galloping galloping always toward you. In your ruined shirt, on the last day, while the bruise won’t heal, and the stain stays put, the red light streaming in from everywhere at once. Your broken ribs, the back of your head, your hand to mouth or hand to now, right now, like you mean it, like it’s split- ting you in two. Now look at the lights, the lights.

16 You and your lover are making out in the corner booth of a seedy bar. The booths are plush and the drinks are cheap and in this dim and smoky light you can barely tell whose hands are whose. Someone raises their glass for a toast. Is that the Hand of Judgment or the Hand of Mercy? The bartender smiles, running a rag across the burnished wood of the bar. The drink in front of you has already been paid for. Drink it, the bartender says. It’s yours, you deserve it. It’s already been paid for. Somebody’s paid for it already. There’s no mistake, he says. It’s your drink, the one you asked for, just the way you like it. How can you refuse Hands of fire, hands of air, hands of water, hands of dirt. Someone’s doing all the talking but no one’s lips move. Consider the hairpin turn.

17 The motorbikes are neck and neck but where’s the checkered flag we all expected, waving in the distance, telling you you’re home again, home? He’s next to you, right next to you in fact, so close, or. . . he isn’t. Imagine a room. Yes, imagine a room: two chairs facing the window but nobody moves. Don’t move. Keep staring straight into my eyes. It feels like you’re not moving, the way when, dancing, the room will suddenly fall away. You’re dancing: you’re neck and neck or cheek to cheek, he’s there or he isn’t, the open road. Imagine a room. Imagine you’re danc- ing. Imagine the room now falling away. Don’t move.

18 Two brothers: one of them wants to take you apart. Two brothers: one of them wants to put you back together. It’s time to choose sides now. The stitches or the devouring mouth? You want an alibi? You don’t get an alibi, you get two brothers. Here are two Jeffs. Pick one. This is how you make the meaning, you take two things and try to define the space between them. Jeff or Jeff? Who do you want to be? You just wanted to play in your own backyard, but you don’t know where your own yard is, exactly. You just wanted to prove there was one safe place, just one safe place where you could love him. You have not found that place yet. You have not made that place yet. You are here. You are here. You’re still right here.

19 Here are your names and here is the list and here are the things you left behind: The mark on the floor from pushing your chair back, your un- derwear, one half brick of cheese, the kind I don’t like, wrapped up, and poorly, and abandoned on the second shelf next to the poppyseed dress- ing, which is also yours. Here’s the champagne on the floor, and here are your house keys, and here are the curtains that your cat peed on. And here is your cat, who keeps eating grass and vomiting in the hall- way. Here is the list with all of your names, Jeff. They’re not the same name, Jeff. They’re not the same at all.

20 There are two twins on motorbikes but they are not on motorbikes, they’re in a garden where the flowers are as big as thumbs. Imagine you are in a field of daisies. What are you doing in a field of daisies? Get up! Let’s say you’re not in the field anymore. Let’s say they’re not brothers anymore. That’s right, they’re not brothers, they’re just one guy, and he knows you, and he’s talking to you, but you’re in pain and you can- not understand him. What are you still doing in this field? Get out of the field! You should be in the hotel room! You should, at least, be try- ing to get back into the hotel room. Ah! Now the field is empty.

21 Hold onto your voice. Hold onto your breath. Don’t make a noise, don’t leave the room until I come back from the dead for you. I will come back from the dead for you. This could be a city. This could be a graveyard. This could be the basket of a big balloon. Leave the lights on. Leave a trail of letters like those little knots of bread we used to dream about. We used to dream about them. We used to do a lot of things. Put your hand to the knob, your mouth to the hand, pick up the bread and devour it. I’m in the hallway again, I’m in the hallway. The radio’s playing my favorite song. Leave the lights on. Keep talking. I’ll keep walking toward the sound of your voice.

22 Someone had a party while you were sleeping but you weren’t really sleeping, you were sick, and parts of you were burning, and you couldn’t move. Perhaps the party was in your honor. You can’t remem- ber. It seems the phone was ringing in the dream you were having but there’s no proof. A dish in the sink that might be yours, some clothes on the floor that might belong to someone else. When was the last time you found yourself looking out of this window. Hey! This is a beautiful window! This is a beautiful view! Those trees lined up like that, and the way the stars are spinning over them like that, spinning in the air like that, like wrenches.

23 Let’s say that God is the space between two men and the Devil is the space between two men. Here: I’ll be all of them-Jeff and Jeff and Jeff and Jeff are standing on the shoulder of the highway, four motorbikes knocked over, two wrenches spinning in the ordinary air. Two of these Jeffs are windows, and two of these Jeffs are doors, and all of these Jeffs are trying to tell you something. Come closer. We’ll whisper it in your ear. It’s like seeing your face in a bowl of soup, cream of potato, and the eyes shining back like spoons. If we wanted to tell you everything, we would leave more footprints in the snow or kiss you harder. One thing. Come closer. Listen . . .

24 You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you’ve done something terr- ible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you’re tired. You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you don’t even have a name for.

- You Are Jeff by Richard Siken

[stardancerluv]

Gotham Surviving the Pandemic 2021

Part 2b

Summary: Despite taking precautions leading up to his opening, this silent killer has a way of still striking. Worry has consumed him.

This part makes a reference to Sugary Kisses and Broken Glasses (which was early in their relationship even before Gotham 2020 Lockdown. (Part two of the new Roman content!)

Roman was pacing back and forth, the doctor said he’d call once the results came in. He sipped on his second scotch. He had barely slept in the last few days.

Falcone had been annoyed when he called, but fuck him. Chastising him the careless and selfishness of the men that work for him. It was his life put at risk. Falcone was lucky, he didn’t just kill them.

Draining the scotch and walking over to the bar he picked up the decanter, when the ring from his phone ripped through the silence of his office. The decanter clanked with his glass before he righted it. Huffing a sigh he strode over to the phone. He ran his fingers through his hair, sweat prickled his scalp.

Swallowing, he picked up the phone and answered. “Tell me, doctor.”

“You’re fine, Roman.” The man said dryly.

“Good.” His voice was hoarse. “Good.” He repeated.

He shook as he managed to put his phone on his desk. Bracing himself against it, the blood continued to rush in his ears as he finally felt the relief fill him. Behind him in the hall he heard the floorboards creaking. Turning his head, he watched as you approached. He turned towards you and smoothed his suit.

He took the silken pink robe. You looked as if you were glowing, fresh from your shower. “Tell me he gave you good news.” You said softly.

He took a few steps toward you and silently wrapped his arms around you. He nestled his face in the crook of your throat. Your sweet smell made him feel good. Being with you was why he did everything for a bigger slice of Gotham.

“Roman?”

Wrapping his arms around tighter he easily swung you around. “I didn’t catch it. I will be all right.”

Your squeal and giggle filled his ears, made his smile even broader. He enjoyed the feel of your arms tightening around his throat.

Gently, he laid you back down on the ground. “We’re gonna get out for a bit. Go and get dressed.”

Your eyes shone.

*****

For a brief moment, behind the wheel Roman felt like he could be free from his obligations. Reaching over, he squeezed your hand that rested on your thigh. Sure he loved it, loved everything. But sometimes it caused great anger that none of the others truly understood what it was to be him.

“Where are we going?” You called over the roar of the engine, tucking back some hair that strayed behind your ear.

“Where I once won you a purple cow.”

You smiled. “It had been a lovely time.”

He nodded.

Shifting his gears, Roman drove you and him to the nice part of Gotham where the ocean crested the shores. It was a terrible shame that the Booby Trap had finally closed its doors.

The tires crunched under the crumbling parking lot. He came around and opened the door for you.

“Wait a moment,” He stopped you and gently removed the mask from your face and his. “I don’t think we’ll need these. I made sure just the two of us would be here.”

“You did?”

He nodded. “Victor rushed over here. Thankfully, it was only a vagrant and Victor gave him money for some fresh clothes and hopefully warm food.”

“Roman, you’re such a good man.”

He smirked and leaned in. “Don’t let that out, I am a crime lord after all.” He chuckled.

“Well, you’ve always been good to me and your men.”

He shrugged. “I love you, and I do need their loyalty. But enough of that, this is our time.” He went and placed the masks by the gear shifts and then he took your hand.

He walked you along the pier at the Founders Pier. The sun was high and the water lapped at the creaking and aging wood.

“I’ve never showed you this.” Roman said as he stopped by a statue.

As much as he hated his father for all the hits across the face or being screamed at, he could show you this and not get too mad. He knew he was a much better man.

“Oh!” He watched your eyes move to the carved name. “Charles Sionis?”

He pressed his lips together, swallowing. “That’s my father.”

“He looks like an imposing man.”

He nodded. “He was, I know the back of his hand better than anything else. Only good thing is, I don’t have to answer to him anymore.”

You reached up and cupped his cheek. “You are a strong man, a better man.” You smiled. “A man I look forward to marrying. And maybe one day,” Your voice trailed off as you took one of his gloved hands and placed it on your stomach. “You will make me a mother.”

He smirked. “One day,” He did enjoy the idea, making you pregnant. But it also scared him so he chuckled. “Though at the moment, I have too many dark things I have fun doing to you.”

Your cheeks flush at his words, which made him very pleased. “Oh really?”

“Yes.” Moving just so, he walked you up against the railing beside his father’s statue. “Like taking you right here.” He breathed.

“And I’d let you.”

@spn-obsessed-dean @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @ewanfuckingmcgregor @zodiyack @angel98624 @frenchgirlinlondon @emyliabernstein @thepeachreads @nebulastarr @itsknife2meetu @omghappilyuniquebouquetlove @poe-kadot26 @babydoll97-blog1 @hazel-nuss @vcat55 @feelthemadnessinside @johallzy @foreverhockeytrash @frostypenguinoz @professionalclown @chogisss @shantellorraine @xxinvisiblexx @blondekel77 @saphic-stories @drarrylov3r @i-cant-hear-you16 @deadlymistress24 @yesqueenofthelight @generallj @thebeckyjolene @blackmasque @mrskenobi19

[theonlygamergost]

Natural skills-Fd!au-Part 2

This fanfiction is based on the Family Dynamic au made by @antarctic-bay, if you would like to know more, go check them out!!!

Also please bear in mind that the things written in this might not be canon!

(Also English is not my main language! So sorry for any grammatical error UwU)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This idea comes from content shared by momtra in a private discord group, we are hungry for Fd! au content so she rambles a lot about it, plus it kinda became canon sooooo

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2/4

<--Previous--Next-->

Enjoy~

"I'm home ya dickheads" Will swung the front door open, getting greeted by Tommy and Techno playing Smash Bros on the couch.

"Welcome back" "Took you long enough" were the comments of the younger brothers as he slowly passed in front of the tv on purpose. "By the way, I'm not putting this shit in the cupboards, you two are doing it" he placed the bags on the kitchen counter and took out the small plant.

"Sure ill do it after I destroy this nerd" Techno was casually laying back, his controller was emitting small vibrations every now and then.

"Oh no no no Techno! If you win, which won't happen, I want a rematch- HOW?!" Tommy got up and yelled as his character got comboed into oblivion.

"Get dunked on, casual" Techno got up and pushed Tommy back onto the couch as he made his way to the kitchen.

He was towering over the plastic bags as he noticed Wilbur 's new friend. "You bought a plant? I didn't know you liked them"

Wilbur jumped a bit after the comment but regained his cool instantly, "Well, since I am more than capable of caring for myself, I thought practising caring for this plant would help me understand how to care for the two of you better since you are both no-good kids than require constant supervision"

"But plants don't need supervision... and you need to water them once every forever" Tommy got up from the couch, "W-well... yes..." He looked around in panic "Maybe you can learn something from them then!" Wilbur kept digging his grave deeper, the other two rolled their eyes.

Wilbur actually couldn't care for himself at all, yes, he helped bring some money home sometimes with his part-time, but he was chaotic, VERY chaotic.

"Oh my, what an offence" Techno stated while bringing the back of his hand on his forehead to add up to the dramatic tone, Tommy started grabbing a couple of boxes from the bags

"S-shut up Techno! I'm sure you both wouldn't be able to keep it alive not even for one week!"

"Is that a challenge?" Techno looked over his shoulders "Everything for you is a challenge Techno!" Wilbur closed his door, leaving his brothers to put the groceries away.

"Now... where should I put you.." Will looked around his room looking for a good spot for the newcomer.

The only unoccupied surface was by the window... well.. it was technically occupied, but he could have easily moved those things somewhere else.

He would have placed it on his desk, but it wasn't very spacious and it was completely filled with textbooks and papers, too messy to clean it now.

He had always complained about how small his desk was compared to Tommy's and Techno's, but he did give up the bigger rooms for his younger brothers, Phil completely gave up on a room for himself so... the complaints were never "real" complains.

Diving onto the bed, he took his phone out of his pocket and checked at the many notifications: Ten from Instagram... too many on... tik... tok? Yea.. it was...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The air was warm and the sunset was breathtaking, he and his brothers were sitting down, feet dangling off of the pier, drinking some soda in comfortable silence.

At one point, Tommy started knocking on the old wood the structure was made of, but no one said anything. Which was weird in the first place since Techno got annoyed pretty quickly.

"Tommy? What are you doing?" Wilbur leaned back to look at his brother "Stop it kid" Yet Tommy was staring at... nothing... he just kept knocking and knocking and-

"Wake up lazyass, dinner's ready" Wilbur opened his eyes to find Techno, the bags under his eyes were deep and dark as always. "I was knocking on the door like an idiot for at least five minutes"

Oh...

"So... this is your new best friend?"Techno moved by the window and pointed at the plant "Oh wait, you never had a best friend in the first place" Wilbur rolled his eyes as he got up and stretched his arm, "Look who's talking".

They both left the room, closing the door behind them " Well, at least I have Skeppy, BadBoyHalo, Tapl..." Techno counted his friends on his fingers "Watch out everyone! Mister popular over here with his three friends" Wilbur spoke with a funny tone, Techno sighed.

"Who do you have then? Josh?"

"Fundy! Fundy is my friend! Also Jshlatt!" Techno looked over his shoulder, unimpressed "When was the last time you talked to Shlatt?" Wilbur opened his mouth to talk but realized that it was better if the conversation ended there, on Techno's face the grin of victory appeared.

As they entered the kitchen, Phil greeted them with his "Kiss the Cook" apron wrapped around his waist "Oh there you boys are! C'mon, dinner's ready".

They sat down and started eating.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Do you even know what type of plant it is Wilbur?" Tommy had told Phil about Will's plant while he was napping, part because he wanted to see how Phil would roast him, part because Phil definitely knew more about plants than Wilbur.

"It's a geranium... I think?" Techno almost choked on water "You think?" making Tommy laugh even more than he was already, Phil shook his head in disapproval. "You bought a plant and you don't even know what species it is?" Wilbur shook his head "No, I know it's a Geranium, I'm not dumb" Tommy got up to get more of the delicious soup Phil had cooked, Techno fetched him his plate to fill up as well.

"I bet twenty dollars that for next Sunday it will already be dead" Tommy chuckled in the background as Will gave Techno the deadly stare. "Too scared to lose, Losebur?" and now Phil was chuckling too.

A couple of months ago, Techno and Wilbur had bet on who would win a Monopoly game since both of them were really good at it, Phil and Tommy were only there to watch.

It was a very close game but Techno ended up winning, Will thinks it was luck, Techno sustains it was skill.

Either way, from that day on Wilbur was very sceptical about betting against Techno, so he started to call him "Losebur", which of course, he deeply hated.

In a few words, it was Techno's way of calling Wilbur a bitch.

"Ok then Mister "I-tryhard-everything" Blade. I'll prove you wrong" Techno rolled his eyes at the nickname and kept eating his soup.

The rest of the dinner was uneventful... for how much uneventful a dinner with the Pandel brothers could be, that is.

[siken-archive]

You Are Jeff

1 There are two twins on motorbikes but one is farther up the road, beyond the hairpin turn, or just before it, depending on which twin you are in love with at the time. Do not choose sides yet. It is still to your advan- tage to remain impartial. Both motorbikes are shiny red and both boys have perfect teeth, dark hair, soft hands. The one in front will want to take you apart, and slowly. His deft and stubby fingers searching every shank and lock for weaknesses. You could love this boy with all your heart. The other brother only wants to stitch you back together. The sun shines down. It's a beautiful day. Consider the hairpin turn. Do not choose sides yet. 2 There are two twins on motorbikes but one is farther up the road. Let's call them Jeff. And because the first Jeff is in front we'll consider him the older, and therefore responsible for lending money and the occa- sional punch in the shoulder. World-wise, world-weary, and not his mother's favorite, this Jeff will always win when it all comes down to fisticuffs. Unfortunately for him, it doesn't always all come down to fisticuffs. Jeff is thinking about his brother down the winding road be- hind him. He is thinking that if only he could cut him open and peel him back and crawl inside this second skin, then he could relive that last mile again: reborn, wild-eyed, free. 3 There are two twins on motorbikes but one is farther up the road, beyond the hairpin turn, or just before it, depending on which Jeff you are. It could have been so beautiful—you scout out the road ahead and I will watch your back, how it was and how it will be, memory and fantasy— but each Jeff wants to be the other one. My name is Jeff and I'm tired of looking at the back of your head. My name is Jeff and I'm tired of seeing my hand me down clothes. Look, Jeff, I'm telling you, for the last time, I mean it, etcetera. They are the same and they are not the same. They are the same and they hate each other for it. 4 Your name is Jeff and somewhere up ahead of you your brother has pulled to the side of the road and he is waiting for you with a lug wrench clutched in his greasy fist. 0 how he loves you, darling boy. 0 how, like always, he invents the monsters underneath the bed to get you to sleep next to him, chest to chest or chest to back, the covers drawn around you in an act of faith against the night. When he throws the wrench into the air it will catch the light as it spins toward you. Look—it looks like a star. You had expected something else, anything else, but the wrench never reaches you. It hangs in the air like that, spinning in the air like that. It's beautiful. 5 Let's say God in his High Heaven is hungry and has decided to make himself some tuna fish sandwiches. He's already finished making two of them, on sourdough, before he realizes that the fish is bad. What is he going to do with these sandwiches? They're already made, but he doesn't want to eat them. Let's say the Devil is played by two men. We'll call them Jeff. Dark hair, green eyes, white teeth, pink tongues—they're twins. The one on the left has gone bad in the middle, and the other one on the left is about to. As they wrestle, you can tell that they have forgotten about God, and they are very hungry. 6 You are playing cards with three men named Jeff. Two of the Jeffs seem somewhat familiar, but the Jeff across from you keeps staring at your hands, your mouth, and you're certain that you've never seen this Jeff before. But he's on your team, and you're ahead, you're winning big, and yet the other Jeffs keep smiling at you like there's no tomorrow. They all have perfect teeth: white, square, clean, even. And, for some reason, the lighting in the room makes their teeth seem closer than they should be, as if each mouth was a place, a living room with pink carpet and the window's open. Come back from the window, Jefferson. Take off those wet clothes and come over here, by the fire. 7 You are playing cards with three Jeffs. One is your father, one is your brother, and the other is your current boyfriend. All of them have seen you naked and heard you talking in your sleep. Your boyfriend Jeff gets up to answer the phone. To them he is a mirror, but to you he is a room. Phone's for you, Jeff says. Hey! It's Uncle Jeff, who isn't really your uncle, but you can't talk right now, one of the Jeffs has put his tongue in your mouth. Please let it be the right one. 8 Two brothers are fighting by the side of the road. Two motorbikes have fallen over on the shoulder, leaking oil into the dirt, while the interlocking brothers grapple and swing. You see them through the backseat window as you and your parents drive past. You are twelve years old. You do not have a brother. You have never experienced anything this ferocious or intentional with another person. Your mother is pretending that she hasn't seen anything. Your father is fiddling with the knobs of the radio. There is an empty space next to you in the backseat of the station wagon. Make it the shape of everything you need. Now say hello. 9 You are in an ordinary suburban bedroom with bunk beds, a bookshelf, two wooden desks and chairs. You are lying on your back, on the top bunk, very close to the textured ceiling, staring straight at it in fact, and the room is still dark except for a wedge of powdery light that spills in from the adjoining bathroom. The bathroom is covered in mint green tile and someone is in there, singing very softly. Is he singing to you? For you? Black cherries in chocolate, the ring around the moon, a bee- tle underneath a glass—you cannot make out all the words, but you're sure he knows you're in there, and he's singing to you, even though you don't know who he is. 10 You see it as a room, a tabernacle, the dark hotel. You're in the hallway again, and you open the door, and if you're ready you'll see it, but maybe one part of your mind decides that the other parts aren't ready, and then you don't remember where you've been, and you find yourself down the hall again, the lights gone dim as the left hand sings the right hand back to sleep. It's a puzzle: each piece, each room, each time you put your hand to the knob, your mouth to the hand, your ear to the wound that whispers. You're in the hallway again. The radio is playing your favorite song. You're in the hallway. Open the door again. Open the door. 11 Suppose for a moment that the heart has two heads, that the heart has been chained and dunked in a glass booth filled with river water. The heart is monologing about hesitation and fulfillment while behind the red brocade the heart is drowning. Can the heart escape? Does love even care? Snow falls as we dump the booth in the bay. Suppose for a moment we are crowded around a pier, waiting for something to ripple the water. We believe in you. There is no danger. It is not getting dark, we want to say. 12 Consider the hairpin turn. It is waiting for you like a red door or the broken leg of a dog. The sun is shining, O how the sun shines down! Your speedometer and your handgrips and the feel of the road below you, how it knows you, the black ribbon spread out on the greens be- tween these lines that suddenly don't reach to the horizon. It is waiting, like a broken door, like the red dog that chases its tail and eats your rose- bushes and then must be forgiven. Who do you love, Jeff? Who do you love? You were driving toward something and then, well, then you found yourself driving the other way. The dog is asleep. The road is be- hind you. O how the sun shines down. 13 This time everyone has the best intentions. You have cancer. Let's say you have cancer. Let's say you've swallowed a bad thing and now it's got its hands inside you. This is the essence of love and failure. You see what I mean but you're happy anyway, and that's okay, it's a love story after all, a lasting love, a wonderful adventure with lots of action, where the mirror says mirror and the hand says hand and the front door never says Sorry Charlie. So the doctor says you need more stitches and the bruise cream isn't working. So much for the facts. Let's say you're still completely in the dark but we love you anyway. We love you. We really do. 14 After work you go to the grocery store to get some milk and a carton of cigarettes. Where did you get those bruises? You don't remember. Work was boring. You find a jar of bruise cream and a can of stewed tomatoes. Maybe a salad? Spinach, walnuts, blue cheese, apples, and you can't decide between the Extra Large or Jumbo black olives. Which is bigger anyway? Extra Large has a blue label, Jumbo has a purple label. Both cans cost $1.29. While you're deciding, the afternoon light is streaming through the windows behind the bank of checkout coun- ters. Take the light inside you like a blessing, like a knee in the chest, holding onto it and not letting it go. Now let it go. 15 Like sandpaper, the light, or a blessing, or a bruise. Blood everywhere, he said, the red light hemorrhaging from everywhere at once. The train station blue, your lips blue, hands cold and the blue wind. Or a horse, your favorite horse now raised up again out of the mud and galloping galloping always toward you. In your ruined shirt, on the last day, while the bruise won't heal, and the stain stays put, the red light streaming in from everywhere at once. Your broken ribs, the back of your head, your hand to mouth or hand to now, right now, like you mean it, like it's split- ting you in two. Now look at the lights, the lights. 16 You and your lover are making out in the corner booth of a seedy bar. The booths are plush and the drinks are cheap and in this dim and smoky light you can barely tell whose hands are whose. Someone raises their glass for a toast. Is that the Hand of Judgment or the Hand of Mercy? The bartender smiles, running a rag across the burnished wood of the bar. The drink in front of you has already been paid for. Drink it, the bartender says. It's yours, you deserve it. It's already been paid for. Somebody's paid for it already. There's no mistake, he says. It's your drink, the one you asked for, just the way you like it. How can you refuse Hands of fire, hands of air, hands of water, hands of dirt. Someone's doing all the talking but no one's lips move. Consider the hairpin turn. 17 The motorbikes are neck and neck but where's the checkered flag we all expected, waving in the distance, telling you you're home again, home? He's next to you, right next to you in fact, so close, or. . . he isn't. Imagine a room. Yes, imagine a room: two chairs facing the window but nobody moves. Don't move. Keep staring straight into my eyes. It feels like you're not moving, the way when, dancing, the room will suddenly fall away. You're dancing: you're neck and neck or cheek to cheek, he's there or he isn't, the open road. Imagine a room. Imagine you're danc- ing. Imagine the room now falling away. Don't move. 18 Two brothers: one of them wants to take you apart. Two brothers: one of them wants to put you back together. It's time to choose sides now. The stitches or the devouring mouth? You want an alibi? You don't get an alibi, you get two brothers. Here are two Jeffs. Pick one. This is how you make the meaning, you take two things and try to define the space between them. Jeff or Jeff? Who do you want to be? You just wanted to play in your own backyard, but you don't know where your own yard is, exactly. You just wanted to prove there was one safe place, just one safe place where you could love him. You have not found that place yet. You have not made that place yet. You are here. You are here. You're still right here. 19 Here are your names and here is the list and here are the things you left behind: The mark on the floor from pushing your chair back, your un- derwear, one half brick of cheese, the kind I don't like, wrapped up, and poorly, and abandoned on the second shelf next to the poppyseed dress- ing, which is also yours. Here's the champagne on the floor, and here are your house keys, and here are the curtains that your cat peed on. And here is your cat, who keeps eating grass and vomiting in the hall- way. Here is the list with all of your names, Jeff. They're not the same name, Jeff. They're not the same at all. 20 There are two twins on motorbikes but they are not on motorbikes, they're in a garden where the flowers are as big as thumbs. Imagine you are in a field of daisies. What are you doing in a field of daisies? Get up! Let's say you're not in the field anymore. Let's say they're not brothers anymore. That's right, they're not brothers, they're just one guy, and he knows you, and he's talking to you, but you're in pain and you can- not understand him. What are you still doing in this field? Get out of the field! You should be in the hotel room! You should, at least, be try- ing to get back into the hotel room. Ah! Now the field is empty. 21 Hold onto your voice. Hold onto your breath. Don't make a noise, don't leave the room until I come back from the dead for you. I will come back from the dead for you. This could be a city. This could be a graveyard. This could be the basket of a big balloon. Leave the lights on. Leave a trail of letters like those little knots of bread we used to dream about. We used to dream about them. We used to do a lot of things. Put your hand to the knob, your mouth to the hand, pick up the bread and devour it. I'm in the hallway again, I'm in the hallway. The radio's playing my favorite song. Leave the lights on. Keep talking. I'll keep walking toward the sound of your voice. 22 Someone had a party while you were sleeping but you weren't really sleeping, you were sick, and parts of you were burning, and you couldn't move. Perhaps the party was in your honor. You can't remem- ber. It seems the phone was ringing in the dream you were having but there's no proof. A dish in the sink that might be yours, some clothes on the floor that might belong to someone else. When was the last time you found yourself looking out of this window. Hey! This is a beautiful window! This is a beautiful view! 1 hose trees lined up like that, and the way the stars are spinning over them like that, spinning in the air like that, like wrenches. 23 Let's say that God is the space between two men and the Devil is the space between two men. Here: I'll be all of them-Jeff and Jeff and Jeff and Jeff are standing on the shoulder of the highway, four motorbikes knocked over, two wrenches spinning in the ordinary air. Two of these Jeffs are windows, and two of these Jeffs are doors, and all of these Jeffs are trying to tell you something. Come closer. We'll whisper it in your ear. It's like seeing your face in a bowl of soup, cream of potato, and the eyes shining back like spoons. If we wanted to tell you everything, we would leave more footprints in the snow or kiss you harder. One thing. Come closer. Listen . . . 24 You're in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won't tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you've done something terr- ible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you're tired. You're in a car with a beautiful boy, and you're trying not to tell him that you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling, and you're trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you've discovered something you don't even have a name for.

[palbabor-writes]

Yōkai

Hawks Week 2020 - Prompt: Horror Tales

Warnings: Ghosts, spirits, blood, gore, adult language, death, mentions of violent crime

Word Count: 9403

The people here are strange. They’re a superstitious bunch for sure. Everything has an underlying reason. Don’t forget to toss salt over your shoulder when you walk into that crime scene, Hawks. It’s bad luck if you don’t. 

Despite the strange mannerisms that surround him, they are right about one thing: there’s more to these killings than meets the eye.

Notes: I went with a whodunit theme for this fic with some healthy ghosts and haunts thrown in. As this is pre-All Might’s retirement, Hawks is the #3 Hero.

Yōkai

Yōkai are a class of supernatural monsters and spirits in Japanese folklore. The word 'yōkai' is made up of the kanji for "bewitching; attractive; calamity" and "spectre; apparition; mystery; suspicious."

The small island of Miyako is renowned for its turquoise waters, pristine coral sanctuaries, amusement parks, and sprawling mansions. All in all, it’s a trust fund tourist trap. Still, like most pristine and shiny things, there’s a seedier underbelly that’s scrapes against the rough, sandy bottom. Come at low tide and you’ll catch a whiff of decay and rot. 

Miyako Island is another example of that duality that exists within everything. No matter how pretty the water, there are always dark creatures that lurk in the shallow shoals and coves.

Hawks isn’t looking forward to his new assignment on the island. He’s been called in by the HPSC and Miyako’s police force. There’s been a string of unsolved murders and, with the onset of August, tourist season is in full swing. Homicide is bad publicity during the best of times. But, combine the discovery of freshly charred corpses popping up in various buildings, piers, and alleyways, with mass hysteria and you’re going to have a big problem on your hands. 

For eight open murder cases, there’s not much for Hawks to go on, and the data he does have is spotty. 

Hawks poured over the notes as soon as he got off the phone with the HSPC, the luster of the new assignment fresh in his mind. He swiped through the briefings and crime scene photos that were attached in the long email from Miyako’s chief of police. 

It looks like the trouble started in the poorer areas of town. No matter how bright the city lights shine, there’s always the common shadow of a downtrodden, overworked, and underpaid populous straining under the weight of “keeping up appearances.”  

Who else would do the nitty gritty jobs that ensured that the tourist season stayed afloat, and, most important of all, profitable? 

Sadly, it’s the blue collar areas that first experienced the horrors. The notes on these cases are borderline elitist, skirting close to xenophobic. The usual: ‘it was just something that happened when you crammed people in that close’. ‘What else did you expect’? ‘Most of the victims aren’t even from the island’. ‘They’re strangers, they’re not locals.’ ‘They’re not one of us’. 

The word immigrant pops up in the documentation frequently and it feels like a slur each time it appears. There’s a slinking, cloying animosity curling behind the looping words. 

It pisses Hawks off.

The only reason he’s been called is because the crimes have jumped over the poverty line. Now, two prominent members of Miyako society have been murdered. So, what’s the connection you ask? 

It’s the state of the bodies. 

All of the victims, rich or poor, have been mutilated. Something sharp was drawn across their skin, cutting and splicing, marring them, marking them. Then, as if to add insult to injury, they’d been set aflame. It must have been a scorching blaze. Something that leaves them so crisped and blackened that they’re more husk than human. In each case, it’s taken dental records to identify the deceased. 

The Miyako chief of police is doing a review of the known peculiars with Hawks. 

“They mirror the, uh, earlier crime scenes. As you can see, this one, she is, er, was a woman in her late 30’s-”

“She was 37,” Hawks supplies, his golden eyes running over the chart that the chief of police is showing him. He’s trying his best to hide his agitation, but his feathers still bristle, the red plumage flaring, refusing to lay against his back. 

“Uh, yeah, a bad age they say.”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s just, it’s supposed to be bad luck. You know?”

“I don’t. Can we get back to the matter at hand, please?” 

Hawks has to grit his teeth to keep his tone even. He’s really not liking the way these crime scenes are processed and he’s made his opinion known to the police chief and investigative team. Why now, he’d pressed, hours after flying in, sweat still clinging to his brow. Why didn’t the bodies matter when it was relegated to the lower socio-economic citizens? 

He’s also critical and skeptical of the motives of this police chief. There’s something about the whole thing that feels...off.

 But, now’s not the time to project that suspicion. He’s only just arrived, besides, he needs more information, more data. Despite his agitation, he gets why the HPSC sent him on this assignment. He’s known for doing things quickly. Plus, he’s usually calm, collected, and he’s got the clout to get things moving again. 

He’s also observant. The HPSC both loves and hates this particular skill of his, but it’s to their benefit in this instance. His sharp eyes might spot something that’s been missed, they’d said on the phone with him as they handed off his assignment. If he played his cards right, they said, he could pull these murders from unsolved to solved. Oh, and the commission is thinking these murders might involve some agents from the League of Villains. 

It’s not a confirmed connection. 

There’s nothing solid about it, besides the body mutilation and burned corpses. But both are known habits of two members of the League. They’re shadowy leads, more steeped in hearsay than fact. All the same, one is rumored to have a fascination with blood, and the other, has a proclivity for using a bright, blue flame. It’s a hot heat, perfect for cremation and these bodies have all been practically, well, cremated.

“Have you met the other heroes that will be assigned to work with you?” 

Hawks snaps out of his head and nods at the tall, balding police chief. “Amano and Matsuura? Yeah, we’re supposed to take a look at the first locations as soon as this...meeting...is concluded.” Hawks hopes the police chief can hear the air quotes he just put the word meeting in. 

“Good, good. I saw your additions on the later cases. I really feel that we should look a little harder into those. One was a member of the city council. He was beloved by the city and-”

“If I’m looking for a pattern, there’s a higher probability that the killer was sloppier in the earlier cases. New habits and all. I’ll get to the councilman when I get to the councilman. Again, this string of murders started in the lowlands. While I realize that doesn’t get you the most publicity, and I hear a re-election is coming up for your position as chief of police this fall, I’m not going to pick at certain elements of this and leave others by the wayside. 

You gotta’ problem with that, take it up the HPSC. But, listen, they’re a lot meaner than me and they’re not going to like that you’re obstructing my investigation. You asked the commission to send someone down, and, lucky you, you’ve gotten yourself stuck with me.” 

Hawks flashes the police chief a bright grin, his teeth gleaming as his eyes crinkle to crescents. The man stammers for a moment, his face flushing under Hawks’ false joviality, then he tosses a bulky manilla folder on the desk. 

“Why you...I heard you were an arrogant son of a...no, no.” The chief sputters, his teeth clenched, anger bared behind the grinding of his jaw. “You’re right, we’re so very grateful to the number three hero taking time out of his busy modeling schedule to lend us a hand with these murders.”

“Ooh, you saw that spread in the sports magazine? Nice use of color right? Loved that new set of watches I’m sponsoring.” 

Fucking prick. Hawks is used to this kind of irate reaction, hell, it’s pretty expected now. He’d heard it so many times he has it memorized. Yeah, yeah, he’s twenty one, a kid who’s too big for his boots. He has no idea, no real world experience. Did you hear how he talked to me? The audacity.  

Let this guy try to report his snarky attitude, it’s not going to get his low level wannabe bureaucratic ass anywhere.

“I’ll get my agency to send you a signed copy. I had no idea you were such a fan! Lemme grab these files, got some work to do. Catch you around, sir!” Hawks pantomimes a salute, a serious expression making his eyes narrow. Fuck this dude. He’s got bigger fish to fry.

Closing the door on the police chief’s mottled expression, he meanders down the stairs of the police precinct, his wings still arching and rustling his temper. You’d think this case didn’t matter to these buffoons. The sheer implication of Hawks’ presence should clue them in. The HPSC doesn’t do anything lightly. Nah, these killings could be related to the League. Plus, his background checks on the victims had revealed some startling discoveries. 

All of them, down to the nineteen year old restaurant hostess, were involved in minor villain activities. Some had smuggled drugs, some laundered money on the side, one was a known broker. They kept climbing the ladder of severity. It was worrisome. 

While the chances of the LOV’s involvement was low, the commission was still searching for their hideout. He’d caught wind of some of the activity revolving around that ongoing mission. He wasn’t assigned to it, but he liked to keep an ear to the ground. 

Association with the LOV or not, these homicides kept bothering him. There’s something he’s not seeing. He dislikes the sensation. It makes him tense, ill at ease. Once he steps outside the police headquarters he launches himself into the sleet grey skies. 

It looks like rain. 

If he’s wanting to glean as much as he can from those early crime scenes, he better hurry. Hawks doesn’t like rain. It makes his feathers feel bogged down and dampened. Unfortunately, it has the same effect on evidence. Rain can whisk the little details away, slicking and drifting as it washes down to the vast sea. It can easily snag vital clues on its meandering path, erasing as it goes. 

******

The first murder took place on the fourth floor of a shabby apartment. The victim lived in the 19th unit and was a 43 year old male. He was a well known loner. So, it was a shock to discover that he ran a pilfering ring. The ring wasn’t a small scale enterprise either. No, this went deep. It connected to three other islands and the Japanese mainland. There’s no way this guy was a simple recluse. If anything, he was nothing short of a criminal mastermind. 

His body had been left in an odd position. It was likely staged, purposeful.  

He was discovered by his landlord. Rent was due and it was unusual for him to be late with the payment. So, the landlord let himself into the 19th unit. It’s a small wonder no one reported the smell earlier. Apparently, it was putrid, acidic, gut churning. A mix of tarnished copper and old, rotten meat. 

In all likelihood, he was murdered elsewhere and dragged back to the unit. Nothing in the room, besides his corpse, was scorched. The victim was splayed on his small bed, but the placement was strange. His feet were resting on his ashen pillow, shoes still on his feet. Meanwhile, his head was at the foot of his bed, pointing northward. 

Hawks and one of the assigned heroes, a friendly guy named Amano, are going over the case file with two members of the forensic team. Apparently, one of the team members hadn’t been part of the original investigation clean up and bagging. As Hawks and Amano are sharing the crime scene photos, asking the forensic team questions, the taller of the two, gasps, clapping a hand over his lips. 

Hawks tilts his head at the man’s reaction, his feathers automatically feeling for his pulse. It’s elevated and the guy appears to be truly bothered. It’s an upsetting picture, to be sure, but this is his job. He cleans up blood and guts for a living. Surely, he’s seen worse.

“You ok?” Hawks’ asks, his amber eyes shifting over the man’s face. 

“F-fine. It’s just, well, look at him.” 

Hawks takes the photo back. Did he miss something? 

“What about him?”

“Look at the direction his head’s facing.” 

“Uh,” Hawks examines the position of the hazy sun that peeks through the rain clouds outside the window. “North?”

Now the other forensic team member gasps. What the hell? What does facing north have to do with anything? It’s a cardinal direction. What would they say if he was facing the West? Again, are these people deliberately trying to bog his investigation down?

“I don’t see what, uh, relevance that has.” Hawks tells the two, looking over to Amano. The hero doesn’t seem to be bothered by their outburst. He just shrugs at Hawks’ frank stare.

“It’s supposed to be bad luck, but yeah, there’s not-” Amano begins, finally placing some clarity on the forensic team's outburst of paranoia, but he’s interrupted by the taller, jumpier man. 

“Not just that. You collect iron in your blood if you sleep facing north. It brings death.”

The guy said death like it might summon the fearsome spector down on them at any moment. Amano coughs, his hand covering a badly concealed smile. “Yeah, sure. Facing north is bad luck, and, I guess it can bring death, too. Learn something new everyday...”

“Worked pretty well in this guys case,” Hawks muses, arching an eyebrow at the jittery forensic team. “You guys see anything else? Something a little more, I don’t know, pertinent?” 

They don’t get much further with that crime scene.

Amano tags along for Hawks’ review of the other two cases. His agency runs out of this area and he was one of the first responders. He’s not got a lot of extra information, but he knows the people and they know him. It takes the edge off, lets the locals open up a little more. 

The next case is in a home. Well, home feels generous, it’s more like a shack. Apparently, the victim liked to collect cat figurines. Like, really, really liked to collect cat figurines. There’s over sixty of them, they’re scattered around the place, tucked into nooks and crannies. It feels like a thousand little eyes are watching the two heroes as they canvas the space. It’s creepy.  Hawks dislikes the sensation. His feathers keep lifting, feeling, spreading out.

The woman had been found at her kitchen table. She was propped into a chair, sitting, like nothing in the world, save her crisp remains, was amiss. The only way you could achieve a staging of that caliber was to wait for the body to enter rigor mortis. 

That takes time. 

Full rigor sets in around 5 to 12 hours after death has occured. Whomever did this must have had time to spare. And they weren’t worried about being caught during that time. No, they were too busy planning out the dramatic effect of their crimes.  

Once again, he feels like he’s missing something. 

One body was left pushing a garden cart. Literally, the man was found, early in the morning with his hands tied to a wheelbarrow. He was posed mid task, his arm lifted, reaching for someone, or something. Trouble was, the guy didn’t work as a gardener. No, he was a low level broker. Someone darting under the criminal radar. He’d eluded the police and heroes for months. Looks like his luck ran out.

The eighth body, the congressman, was discovered at a popular wharf. This crime scene is still in the process of being cleaned up, so there’s a flurry of people bustling around. Amano, and the other hero, Matsuura, who’s also been assigned to Hawks’ investigation, are talking with witnesses, gathering information and scheduling interviews. This kind of hero work is never ending. Hawks is grateful they’re willing to take on the grunt work. 

As Hawks is kneeling, peering over the ledge of the pier, looking down on the blackened wood and debris, a loud cawing breaks out. It echoes on the wind, coiling and lifting. It’s a funny sound. Like it’s far away and dulled. It makes Hawks’ wings fan out, overstimulated and brittle. The heroes and crime scene investigators debate on the origin of the noise. It doesn’t help that there’s no bird that’s wheeling above them. No, the skies are dark and empty, with a light misting of rain starting to drip onto the lashing sea. 

“What is that?”

“Is it a gull?”

“It’s creepy. There’s nothing even flying around. But, it sounds so close.”

“I think it’s a seabird. It’s gotta be, sometimes they fly out here looking for fish.”

“I’ve never heard a seagull sound like that.”

“There are other birds besides seagulls, idiot. It could be a pelican-”

“It’s a crow,” Hawks’ supplies, standing and turning back to the clutch of people who are quickly gathering up their supplies, doing their best to get the important pieces of evidence protected from the rain. 

“Huh? Did he say a crow?”

“Oh, damn, that’s a sign of death.”

“No...I think it’s illness, not death.”

Hawks’ walks to Amano and Matsuura, he tells them he’ll meet them back at the police headquarters. He needs to start his interviews if he wants to even have a prayer of snagging a bite to eat. He’s been subsisting off coffee since he flew in and his stomach is rumbling, loudly. 

The investigators are still debating the meaning of the crow caws when he takes off. His wings beat powerfully beside his head and he lifts above the grey storm clouds, coasting high, past the skyline. 

The people here are strange. They’re a superstitious bunch for sure. Everything has an underlying reason. Don’t forget to toss salt over your shoulder when you walk into that crime scene, Hawks. It’s bad luck if you don’t. 

Despite the strange mannerisms that surround him, they are right about one thing: there’s more to these killings than meets the eye. 

Things feel off in every crime scene. Were their belongings really left that way? Or, have the details been staged? Plus, the murders keep escalating. The particulars are spreading out and deepening as they interweave. The major connecting thread is still the state of the bodies, but even that is starting to feel vague. Hawks shudders a bit of excess moisture from the tips of his wings. Fingers crossed, some of these witnesses and relatives of the victims will have a little more substance for him to chew on.

******

Oh, they have something alright. 

It’s more hushed rumors and strange folk tales. God, the sheer frightened gullibility of these islanders is wild. The whole place feels so backwoodsey, lost in a bygone era. There’s always a prayer or blessing that needs to be uttered. Or, some supernatural logic that he needs to look into. Did you consider the devil, Hawks? He hides in the details, you know? 

It’s fucking weird. 

Hawks is treading in unfamiliar waters with this tripe. He didn’t grow up with any of this. The HPSC certainly hadn't offered him a course on Japanese islander folk traditions during his childhood. Still, these people, for the most part, seem well off, educated, cultured even. Some aren’t even from this island. But, they seem to be infected with the same disease: ghosts, oni spirits, and bad omens. It’s a whirling circle of nonsense and Hawks’ wants off this ride.   

“I got a call from her.”

“From the victim, your sister?”

“Yeah, it came in at 4:49 am.”

“Ma’m, that’s not possible. The coroner noted that rigor mortis had set in by 2 am”

“She sounded faint. It was like she was underwater, but it was her. She screamed at me.”

“She screamed at you?”

“Yeah, it was this low scream. Kinda, like a gasp? Like she couldn’t breathe. It kept getting louder and louder and louder. It hurt my ears. They felt like they were ringing, pounding. Then, the line just went dead. I can still hear it, that scream. Every time I close my eyes, or whenever I least...I-I can still hear her.”

“Do you have your phone records?”

Hawks is trying to make sense of it all, but it’s like they’re talking to each other before they come into the interview room, telling each new interviewee to up the ante. 

See if you can spook the number three hero. Go on, it’ll be fun. 

There’s a slew of strange occurrences. Disembodied voices, knocking on windows, doors opening on their own, quiet voids of cold that they step into. Ghosts keep popping up.

Then, there’s the oni spirits. They have red faces and they lean in close, their fangs reaching, gnashing, grinding. One woman, who was married to one of the victims, burst into tears, her terrified sobbing turning into a frantic wail. 

She had seen an ogre in her back garden. It was pushing a cart and the cart was on fire. Hawks’ checked his notes as he patted the woman’s back, trying to help her move through a few breathing exercises. One of the victims was found propped, pushing a wheelbarrow, could it be…

No. It’s another dead end. 

This woman didn’t know that dead man, the one who was pushing the cart. She didn’t even live on the same side of town. Ugh, this is endless. It might be easier if he did apply these delusions to his investigation. At least that way he’ll feel sane. 

Some of the victims had been acting suspicious, paranoid, on edge before their deaths. One of them had gotten a phone call in the middle of the night and ran off. The next day she was found dead in her home, burnt and drifting into ash. 

“So, she got the call and just ran out the door?”

“Yes. But, she let it ring four times.”

“You said that already. I’m not sure-”

“She picked it up after the fourth ring.” The aunt of the victim is looking at Hawks expectantly, her blue eyes wide, starting. 

“I don’t-”

“You know what that means...don’t you?”

“The hidden significance of picking up a phone on the fourth ring? No, no I don’t.”

They never fully expand on their weird theories. They’re normal comments to them. He debates looking up the meaning of the number four on his phone, but he tamps down the urge. It doesn’t pertain to the case. It’s useless drivel, a waste of time. 

An adult man shows him this ugly, ugly drawing of a cat. It’s pulling a flaming cart. Hawks doesn’t even want to touch the paper. The man keeps pointing back at it as he goes over his neighbor’s timeline. 

This particular witness is connected to the city councilman. The one that was oh, so important to the police chief. It’s a high profile case and it’s being taken seriously. Yet, here’s this supposedly credible witness, flashing a childish scrawl up to his nose, asking him to look for the phenomena, like it’s a normal request to ask the number three hero to look for nonexistent demons. 

‘There’s gotta be more to this’, he tells Hawks, his voice broken, fervid. ‘Something, something has to be there, after all, the councilman was murdered for a reason’. 

The man with the drawing is right about that, at least. 

These are not random crimes. The MO is too similar. Every single victim was involved in some sort of villainous activity. Yeah, the guys correct on that one sane theory of his: ‘There’s gotta be something there’. But, whatever it is, it’s not this cat thing. 

Hawks calls a halt to their interview and glumly munches on his cold chicken sandwich as he waits for the next witness to be called in. His head is pounding and he’s praying for some new development to fall into his lap, at least that way he can conclude things and get the hell off this island. 

****** 

The 9th victim is an outlier. 

He’s high up in social circles and he was a popular man. He’s also been accused of money laundering, tax evasion and fraud. He was acquitted on all charges, but his past never did stop nipping at his heels. However, that’s not what makes him an outlier. 

No, that’s reserved for the state of his body. 

Most of the victims have been burned to a crisp, leaving nothing behind, save bone and gristle. You can still see this guy's face and defining features. He’s a little charred, but it’s almost like the flames stopped right before they got past his chin. 

They transport his body to the morgue and Hawks finishes the combing of the crime scene, setting up a new batch of interview times and creating witness reports. He leaves just as the sun is dipping under the horizon. 

******

It’s late now, and the cool sea breeze blows in through his open hotel windows, soothing across his crimson plumage. It’s his first evening off in over a week. He’s still working though, typing his reports into his laptop. 

He’s forgone his usual coffee this evening. He wants to try and see if he can catch a full eight hours tonight. God, what a fucking delicious treat that would be. Eight hours? That’s the real ghost here. 

He shuts off his laptop and flops himself across his bed, his wings tucking into his side, burrowing his shoulders into their reassuring warmth. 

He slips into the lull between realities, his mind whirring, the case resting heavily against the forefront of his thoughts. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that he can’t distinguish between dream and actuality as he drifts off. 

There’s something there.

It keeps to the edge of his vision, a dark shadow that leeches the color from whatever it touches. He can feel it watching him. It shifts quickly when he cocks his head to get a better look, sliding across the blank expanse like quicksilver, fluid and slick. 

He looks away from the edges of his dreamscape and turns. He blinks in surprise. He’s at one of the crime scenes. It’s the one with the man in the wheelbarrow. There’s a crowd pressing around him and that dark figure is blotted toward the back, lurking, watching. The people around him murmur and whisper, too soft to hear. They don’t seem to notice him. They also don’t appear to have faces. They’re just blank voids, with soft notches where eyes, noses, and mouths should be. Unthinking, Hawks reaches for one of them and his hand slips through the air, weightless and heavy in the same motion. 

When he blinks again he’s in that lady’s shack, the one with all the cat figurines. That wraith is sitting at her kitchen table. It’s not moving and he doesn’t feel particularly threatened by its proximity. Still, he dislikes this whole thing. If he can touch it, maybe he’ll wake up.

He’s stepping forward when he hears a soft mewl. There’s a black cat on a shelf. It’s tiny and lithe. It jumps in front of him, a low purr rumbling from its chest. It looks up at him, orange eyes fastening on his amber ones. Odd, he thinks, that woman only had figures. No living cats were evident in the house. 

The cat chirps four times. It’s a light, high pitched sound that makes his ears ache. It almost sounds like a phone. The cat lifts its tail and turns, padding soundlessly into the next room. Intrigued, Hawks follows.

Now, he’s walking down a street. The cat is still in front of him, weaving in and out. That purr of it is loud and sharp as it vibrates around his ears. He keeps trying to get the feline’s attention. He pspsp’s at the dark cat, clicking his tongue, but it doesn’t respond. Hawks is distracted, not paying any mind to his surroundings, wholly focused on the feline. 

The voice startles him. 

It’s rasping and deep and it’s calling his name. Not his hero name, no, it’s saying his real name, over and over. 

KEIGO TAKAMI. 

Keigo Takami, he thinks, stumbling over words that make him, him. It sounds strange now, foreign. He hasn’t heard that name in such a long time.  How did…

The voice is coming from behind him now. He whirls around and is face to face with that man. The 9th victim, the one whose face you could still see. He’s charred and battered, and blood is dripping in long rivulets from his gaping skin, pooling onto the ashen sidewalk. 

His eyes are wide, searching but not seeing. The pupil and iris are both milky white, rolling around in the cavities of his sockets. Then, his mouth pops open. It’s horrifically wide, like it’s caught in a scream. His teeth are crumbling before Hawks’ eyes, black pearls that slide from the man’s lips and clatter around his feet. 

Hawks is stunned, unsure, but, fuck, he can’t move. He tries to flap his wings, knowing that they’ll tug him away from this horror that’s in front of him. Except, there’s no whoosh of air, no lift. There’s nothing. What? How... 

His hands bat at the emptiness along his back. Where are they? What is this? His fingertips press along his shoulders, searching, desperate. His quirk, it’s...it’s just gone. He’s frantic now and that makes him clumsy. His feet tangle under him and he falls. Grounded, his legs instinctively begin to push away from the shell of a man in front of him.

The figure moves with him. Hawks keeps scrabbling away, but the man is even closer now and his bare feet are disintegrating with each shuffling pad forward. Still, he keeps on. Hawks tries to move again, tries to shift, but he’s been cast in stone. He can’t look away...he can’t…

The man is almost upon him now. His fingers are crumbling, the ash they create is making him choke. He can’t breath, he’s wheezing, unable to pull oxygen through his trembling lips. Hawks’ lungs are burning...

Then, Hawks’ wakes up. 

He’s sweating. His skin feels hot and his wings are flared. The feathers are quivering, searching. They bring him back bits and pieces. There’s someone sobbing two rooms over, someone is sleeping below him, their breath warm, he can almost feel it, pushing in and out, in and out. There’s a phone ringing. How many rings? What if it’s four...

Stop, stop.

Hawks tucks his wings back, ignoring the sounds, the sensations. The plumage wraps around him and he ducks his head into the darkness that they blanket him in. He’s comforted by the reassuring, solid presence of his quirk. He thought he’d lost it. His shoulders still hurt from his flailing motions. What is going on? He’s never had a dream like that. It felt so...so real. 

No. It doesn’t matter, he tells himself. He doesn't believe in this stuff. It’s not real. There’s no such thing as ghosts.

He tries to lay back down. 

He’s cooled off some, but his wings keep flapping, he’s stopped trying to fight them. His quirk is going into overdrive. This hasn’t happened to him in years, not since he was a kid. He tosses his pillow over his head, trying to stifle out the noise his quirk keeps drowning him in. He’s tired and overstimulated. Each breath stings and he tries to count, to walk through the steps that have been with him since childhood. Just be still, Hawks. It doesn’t matter. 

The sun is peeking over the horizon when he finally dozes off, his head heavy, fogged with exhaustion. 

******

Hawks grabs two nitro coffees the next morning. 

He practically inhales the dark liquid, hoping it will let him evade the haze of tiredness that thrums through his veins. It’s a slow day, thank God. There’s nothing of note that occurred the night before. Everything is pacing along its planned trajectory. There are no new bodies and the last interviews go by without any mention of spirits or the paranormal. 

Matsuura offers to take him for some lunch. Hawks, always eager to expand his palette, eagerly agrees and the two men head into the city. It’s a weekend, so the streets are crowded. People recognize Hawks and he chats with them, grateful for the welling of normalcy that the interactions bring. He’s signing an autograph when he catches sight of movement in a darkened alleyway. 

It’s not a particularly noticeable shift, but something about it feels strange. Hawks hands the freshly signed soccer ball back to the gang of kids around him and tilts his head toward the motion. He blinks. What the fuck? That’s not possible. 

It’s the man from his dream. He’s walking, steps heavy, sluggish and he’s moving into the alley. The 9th victim? But, but how? What? 

His wings react to his agitation and he hones in on the spot, reaching, snatching at anything he can sense. His fierce wings never let him down. They’re versatile, practiced and perfected. Feathers detach and shimmer into the midday sun, ducking around corners and onto rooftops, feeling. 

There’s nothing. 

No heartbeat, no footsteps, no voices. Hawks’ eyes had slipped closed as he felt for the man and he snaps them open again, his avian pupils dilating, constricting to a fine point. He turns to Matsuura and tells the hero he’s going to check something out. His wings lift before Matsuura can answer and he flaps into the air, the sea breeze assisting his ascension.

The rooftops are empty and Hawks scans the streets below, his wings rustling as he pulls himself along. Maybe it was a trick of his mind? Did he really see that guy? That’s a stupid question, how could he have? That man is dead. It’s gotta be his tired psyche. He didn’t sleep well, plus this case has been on his brain so much that he’s even dreaming about it. 

He lands on a nearby roof, his boots hitting the tiles roughly. Hawks closes his eyes again, sending a few more feathers out. The man, if he is real, will take this path if he is using the alleyway as an escape. There are no other routes available to him. 

He’s still attuned to his scattered feathers when he hears the cat hiss at him. His eyes open and he sees the animal. It’s a black cat. 

It’s across the street, lingering in an open window, its back arched and its fur standing on end. Hawks narrows his eyes at the aggressive display. There are way too many cats on this island. 

As he and the cat continue to engage in their silent staring contest, he hears a scritching sound coming from the street below. Hawks follows the noise, leaning over the edge of the rooftop. A child is playing below. She is sketching something into the concrete with bits of multicolored chalk. 

It looks like...huh? 

It looks like some kind of cart, but, why...why is it on fire? She is busy tracing the licking flames, a yellow piece of chalk clutched in her small fist. She’s humming a mindless song. It sounds like some kind of dirge. It’s soft and melancholic, following a minor tune. A shiver creeps up Hawks’ spine, but he ignores the pebbling of his skin, shaking his head.

Curious, Hawks wheels down, tapping along the street. He keeps a little ways away from the girl, he’s not wanting to startle her. His long fingers reach behind him, into his utility pocket that sits on his belt. He tugs out a small sticker sheet. He always keeps little trinkets in his pockets. It takes real effort to put people at ease and Hawks prides himself on his ability to steadfastly maintain that part of his image. He kneels on his haunches, dropping himself to a friendlier level before calling out to the little girl.

“Hey! That’s a pretty picture.” His voice is all light and honey and he has a bright smile on his face.

“Oh!” the little girl chirps, beaming her own grin back at him. “Thank you!”

“Tell me about your drawing.”

“It’s a Kasha.”

“Hmm, I don’t know what a Kasha is. Can you tell me about the Kasha?”

“They come to take away bad people.” The little girl replies, going back to her sketch, perfecting her lines and colors. 

“Oh! There’s a kitty in your drawing. Is the kitty a Kasha too?” Hawks asks, noticing the calico cat that’s attached to the handles on the front of the cart. It looks angry, vengeful. Strange for a kiddo to draw something so eerie.

“That’s the spirit of the nekomata, silly. Don’t you know anything?”

“Haha,” Hawks laughs, a genuine sound that makes him throw his head back, his hand bashfully scratching the back of his head. “Guess I don’t, huh? Do you like to draw...ghosts?”

“Not really. If I draw them they won’t-”

A distant voice is calling out a name. It’s female and coming from a house a few feet away, no doubt the girl’s mother or sister. The little girl calls back. 

“Coming mama! I gotta go, mister.”

“Here,” Hawks begins, detaching a smaller feather and drifting the little set of stickers over to the girl’s chubby hands. “Thank you for answering my questions,” he smiles. She coos and snatches the sparkly sheet, the sunlight catches the glitter that adorns the stickers. He tickles her cheek with his detached feather and she laughs. 

Her mother calls again and she starts to run off, her yellow shoes pounding on the street. Belatedly, she pauses before rounding the corner and bows low, a quick thank you slipping from her mouth. He waves back and smiles as she walks into her home, the door clicking behind her. Once he’s alone in the alleyway his grin drops and he stands, looking down at her drawing. 

It’s so freaking odd. Sure, sure, these cases are in the news. But the drawing looks...familiar somehow. 

Oh, that’s why. 

That man he interviewed, the one connected to the congressmen, had drawn something similar. Even then, back in that dark interrogation room, the strange figures looked like something he’d seen before, but where?

That nagging feeling is back. It pulls at the back of his mind. What is going on?

Hawks pulls out a small notepad and replicates the girl’s drawing, noting the colors and positions of the nekomata. As he sketches, his wings arc above his head, lifting and lowering meditatively. 

******

He comes back to the police precinct, his hands tucked deeply into his pockets. As he walks toward the chief’s office he runs into Amano. He’s the elder of his two assigned heroes and a font of knowledge about the island and its inhabitants. Maybe he’ll know something more about this doodle that keeps cropping up.

“Hey, Amano, you seen any weird drawings around town? Or, at the crime scenes maybe?”

“Weird? Like how?”

Hawks pulls out his notepad, flipping to the page with his sketch of the cat pushing the burning cart. Amano chortles, one gloved hand coming to cover his mirth. 

“What is that? It looks terrible.”

“I’m not much of an artist, I'll give you that one. In my defense, it’s based on a kid's drawing, so cut me some slack here, man. She said it was supposed to be a kasha and a nekomata?”

“Oh! Yeah, I can kinda see that now. I know what those are. According to legend, kasha appear during rainstorms. They steal corpses out of their coffins. Some of the older folks say they collect the souls of the damned. You can’t get the souls back if the kasha get them, they’re taken to hell, or eaten, depending on what version of the story you’re listening to. 

I mean, they’re all just old wives tales. We used to tell them on camping trips. They’re bedtime stories, something to scare kids into being good. Ooo, misbehave and you’ll get taken to hell. 

Eh, that feels kinda strong when I say it outloud, hopefully people don’t tell their kids stuff like that. Anyway, it’s not real.” Amano pauses, his head tilting at Hawks’ serious expression. “Isn’t it a little early to be getting into ghost stories? It’s summertime. Besides...” 

Hawks tugs his phone out of his jacket pocket, flicking through the crime scene photos as Amano elaborates on how ridiculous this ghoulish conversation is. Normally, Hawks would agree, but there’s got to be...oh...OH. 

There it is. 

His finger stills over the glass of his phone. It’s tiny, basically a scrawl, but it’s there. He flicks through some of the other photos, swiping through the different locations, searching. Ah-ha! Again, there’s that scrawl. This time, it’s almost cropped out of the photo. Still, there are two crime scenes with the scrawling of chalk. 

It’s a tiny drawing, so tiny he looked right over it originally, but now that he knows what he’s looking for, it’s there, plain as day. It’s a drawing of a tiny cart with a cat pulling the handles, lugging the wheels forward. 

Amano is still talking when Hawks looks back up. Hawks butts into his elaborations, not caring that he’s interrupting the man. 

“Ok, so they take evil doers away? Spooky. Question for you. You got any theories on why it’s cropping up all over town?” Hawks lifts the phone to Amano’s face. Amano takes the device and examines the strange markings, his brow creases, but he hands Hawks his phone back with a small smirk on his lips.

“It’s just talk, man. People do all sorts of superstitious things around here. Don’t look too hard into it. You believe what you want to, I don’t know. If that makes sense. Like those old sayings: ‘Don’t clip your nails before bed’. ‘No whistling at night’. It’s just something to say.

Superstitions are weird like that. Kinda like why you don’t have a fourth floor in a hospital. The number four looks like the word for death when you write it out. It’s bad form. It’s asking for trouble. So, don’t put a fourth floor, and boom, no problems with death.”

Hawks hums at Amano’s explanation. Ok, that superstition about the fourth floor, yeah, that one he had heard about. Amano claps a hand on Hawks shoulder and tells him he’s going to call a few more witnesses in. Hawks nods distantly, his mind whirring, processing. Despite Amano’s assurances, something still feels off.

******

He’s got a night shift. 

It’s only for one evening, so it shouldn't fuck up his sleep schedule too much. Hawks has already decided that he’s going to circle back to all of the crime scenes. He’s not used to being out of the loop, or being the one that people are looking at quizzically. 

He’d shown the drawings to the head investigator and the man had given him a blank look before asking Hawks if he needed some time off from the case. If he’d been asked that question a few days later, Hawks might have taken him up on the offer. 

It’s been five days since he had that dream, but he’s still seeing that man. He’s determined to haunt him, to flit on the side of Hawks’ vision, drifting around like a dead leaf in a breeze. 

He saw him at a bus stop the other evening. His dark hair was plastered to his face, burnt skin sloughing off his shoulders. He looked like a walking horror and Hawks had brought himself to an abrupt stop, staring at the figure below. The bus pulled up to the stop seconds after, the sleek metal shielding the man from view. By the time Hawks lifted himself higher, the man was gone. 

He saw him in windows, peering sightlessly out of the glass. He spied the man walking home from the train, trailing long streams of ash and smoke behind him. He never makes any sound. He’s not alive, so why would he? He had spoken to him in his dream, called his name, but after that? There was nothing. 

The vacancy of his presence is what startles Hawks the most. 

There’s nothing to feel, nothing to sense. It’s just this vast, blank, emptiness. For someone with a quirk like his, it’s deeply unsettling. Hawks’ life revolves around his ability to sense, to feel. The plight of the dead man makes his chest hurt with its loneliness and abject barrenness. Is that what it’s like to die? You drift into this void, alone? He doesn’t seem to have anywhere to go. Is this his routine? Is he trapped in an endless loop, playing out his final movements? How long does he have to participate in this charade? Is this some kind of purgatory for him?    

Distracted by his thoughts, Hawks spots a different man down a dark street as he flies overhead. It looks like he’s pushing a creaking wheelbarrow. Wait. A wheelbarrow? He looks again, wheeling back through the night sky, but there’s no one there now. No, the street is desolate, not even the gleam of the moon can brighten the winding sidewalks. 

Is this really a ghost? Do these visions even exist? Hawks has never given the topic of the paranormal much thought. It’s always been an outlier, untrue, and untested. A pseudoscience. Well, ghosts or not, whatever is going on, Hawks needs some rest. 

The rest of the night passes uneventfully and Hawks collapses onto his bed, drifting to sleep as soon as his golden head hits the pillows. 

******

After a goodnight’s sleep, it does get a little easier. 

He feels like his mind has cleared, the cobwebs brushed to one side, for now. Despite the clarity, he’s still seeing something. The man hasn’t gone away. No, even the daylight sun isn’t able to banish him. He saw him in his hotel lobby this morning, waiting for an elevator. By the time Hawks zoomed over, he was gone, the only evidence of his presence is the rising numbers on the illuminated floor panel, clicking up, toward the 4th floor.

That night, while getting a late night coffee, Hawks, long since given up his avoidance of caffeine in the evenings, spies something a little more sinister. As he’s paying the friendly barista, he notices someone lugging something across the road. It looks like it’s heavy, dragging against the street. They’re struggling to hoist it and it’s looking more and more like a body to Hawks’ frazzled nerves. He can’t be sure if it’s the specter that’s been lurking after him, but he’s not taking any chances. Again, Hawks is fast, but it’s not his speed that’s letting him down here. 

Each and every time, there’s just nothing there.

Is he freaking haunted now? Is that a thing? That crazy dream hasn’t returned, so that’s one, fleeting, plus. Wait. Does thinking about the paranormal bring it into existence? Is that how ghosts work? Ugh, if he’s going to be plagued, he might as well read up on this shit. What the fuck is going on? Is it the town? Is it the pressure of this case? Is it him?

As he takes himself, and his coffee, up to his hotel room, he ponders the strange predicament he’s landed himself in. He can’t fit all the pieces together. It’s too strange, too abnormal. He wants to lay down, try to get a little sleep. But, a hero's work is never done. He’s got another report to type up and another set of interviews to schedule. 

As he sits at the small desk that faces the window, he hears a strange cawing. It sounds close, almost like it’s right outside the glass. It’s not the call of a seagull, no, it’s that crow again. But, crows aren’t indigenous to the island. He’d looked them up after that discussion on the wharf. No crows have been spotted on the island in over 50 years. The last known specimen was an old bird, living in the Miyako zoo. It died over 3 years ago. 

Hawks pulls himself to his feet, scraping the chair legs against the floor. He opens the window and pokes his head outside. He can smell the salty aroma of the sea. It tickles his nose and makes him take a big inhale of air, filling his lungs with the crisp aroma. The crow can still be heard, shrieking into the night. There’s a soft, familiar, beating of wings, too. He cranes his head, scanning the blackness, his wings are lifted as well, but there’s no bird. Per usual, there’s no movement, and no creature is flapping its way into the night sky. 

He closes the window and the cawing echoes to the other side of the room before fading away. Annoyed, he takes a sip of his coffee. Hopefully that’s the last he’ll hear of it. He’s got enough ghosts fucking with him, thank you very much, he’s not wanting to add a disembodied crow to the role call. 

******  

The next morning Hawks is on a patrol. 

The murder cases have stagnated again. While this, on the whole, is good news, simply because there are no new bodies, he still can’t get that damned drawing off his mind. It feels like things are slipping away from him, pulling out with the tide and into the vast realm of the dreaded: unsolved cold case. 

He’s frustrated, no, he’s not frustrated, he’s pissed. 

He feels like he’s letting the whole town down. He’d been called out here to do a job, but what good has he really been? Sure, the townsfolk are weird, the police chief is an ass and the lead detective pretty much has Hawks written off as a conspiracy theorist nut, but he was sent here to do a job. He’s good at sniffing things out. He’s good at being a hero. He’s not good at waiting, and that’s all this case has turned into, one long stint of stagnation and thumb twiddling. 

Hawks glides across the bright sky, the sun reflecting warmly on his ruby red feathers. His eyes and wings are alert, feeling for any disturbances. He’s rounding onto the main street when he sees him.

It’s a living, breathing man. Hawks can feel his heartbeat, it’s pounding against the man’s breastbone. Only problem is, he shouldn’t be in the realm of the living.

The 9th victim ducks into a large bank, his familiar dark hair gleaming in the sun. 

Hawks maneuvers to land immediately, his wings tucking against his back and dropping him to the earth at an alarming speed. He startles the small huddle of pedestrians on the sidewalk, but he’s too intent on catching his quarry to smooth any ruffled feathers. He races up the steps of the bank, one broad, gloved hand yanking the glass door open.

There he is. He’s talking with someone. Hawks can almost hear what he’s saying, he just needs to get closer…

“Sir? Can I help you?”

It’s a bank employee. He’s wearing a crisp blue suit and his eyes are wide behind his horn-rimmed glasses. Hawks pauses at his question, then slides past him, but it looks like it was just enough time for the 9th victim to evade him. He’s walking now, disappearing from view, stepping down a back hallway. It looks like he’s following someone…

Hawks turns back to the bank employee, his wings vibrating with annoyance and impatience. “I need to talk with that man, he’s wanted in a murder investigation. My name is Hawks, my hero number is-”

“Oh, I know who you are. O-of course, please, do what you need to d-”

The bank employee’s voice fades as Hawks lifts himself, pulling over the heads of the people waiting in the lobby. A few feathers dash out, feeling, searching. 

Where did he go?

Hawks reaches the hallway in record time, his wings folding as he paces over the marble flooring. There’s not much back here, but it does lead to a large, closed vault. Damn it all. 

“Sir, sir, SIR! Can we help you? I am the bank manager. You’re not permitted to be back-”

“Sure, you can help me. I need access to this vault. There’s a man, you can check your security cameras, he just walked-”

“I do not have access to the vault. You will need to make a formal-”

“Whaddya’ mean, “you don’t have access”? Then find someone who does. Two men just...Damn it…”

Hawks phone is ringing, he tries to ignore it, but it persists, vibrating and chiming against his leg. The bank manager is bristling, his mustache quivering as he babbles on about warrants, and how heroes can’t act like cops. It doesn’t matter if Hawks is the number three, he can’t ignore protocol. He needs to come back with a warrant, or get out…

His phone’s ringtone continues to slice through the tense air and Hawks, after the 9th, exasperating, ring, lifts it out of his pocket, glancing at the caller ID: it’s the HPSC. Fuck. He accepts the call on a final, shrill note.

“Hawks, here.”

“You need to come back...there’s been...All Might...Kamino...attack…”

An intermittent static keeps breaking over the phone line. It’s a crackling sound, snapping and rustling, it makes his skin crawl. It almost sounds like someone is whispering something, just below the faint hissing. “What? The line is breaking up-” Hawks lifts the phone, ah, there’s no bars in here.

The bank manager is still carrying on, heedless of Hawks’ inattention. “And so, I am within my rights to ask you to-”

“I’m going to need you to wait here and don’t move. Yeah, yeah, sure thing buddy, I don’t have a warrant, but I can make things pretty rough for you if you don’t do as I say. You don’t want to be involved in this case, believe me. Now, do what I asked and stay here.”  

Lifting his wings, he flies across the lobby again, swiping a quick text to the police chief, if they hurry they might be able to catch this un-dead, dead guy. He jets himself onto the sidewalk, scattering a gaggle of beach goers. 

As he re-dials the HPSC’s number he hears it again. It’s the call of that crow. It startles him and he almost doesn’t lift the dialing phone to his ear. God, this has gotta stop. He scans the sky for any physical sign of the screeching bird. It’s close, cawing and shrieking into the wind. It’s different from the other calls it’s made. It sounds angry, desperate, trying to reach him...trying to tell him something... 

The line picks up and a voice repeats the familiar greeting of the HPSC. 

“HAWKS, here,” he says, vexed, eyes scanning, looking for the disembodied crow. 

The person on the other end asks for him to hold, and a few seconds later the head of the HPSC is answering, her soft voice both grating and reassuring to Hawks. 

“Hawks. You need to return to Tokyo, immediately. All Might has been attacked by All for One. There are developments that we cannot discuss over the phone. Leave whatever intel you’ve gathered for the Miyako police chief and get back here. This is a national emergency. We need all hands. I don’t need to tell you, but the implications of this are dire. Hero society as we know it will be forever changed. I repeat, drop whatever you’re doing and get back to headquarters.”

The line clicks and that static sound rises again. There’s a garbling, muttering sound that’s rising from the hiss. It’s saying his name. KeigoTakamiKeigoTakamiKeigoTakami. 

Then, all is silent. The voice is gone, the cawing is gone. A deep feeling of dread washes over him. It makes his feathers flair, plumage spreading and flexing. All around him, voices are chatting, laughing, living. They have no idea, blissful in their ignorance. Everything is, no, nothing is ever going to be the same again. God, All Might. If he can’t recover, if he dies... 

Hawks lowers the phone, his eyes wide. Suddenly, all these ghosts of his don’t feel so important now.

Notes: @hawksweek2020​

Beta edited by @albinoburrito​

[bloody-bee-tea]

Charm - Untamed Spring Fest 2020 Day 21

Jiang Cheng can’t believe he gets to be this lucky.

But proof of it is right there, in his bed, snuffling adorably as Lan Xichen turns on his side and curls further towards Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng smiles at Lan Xichen’s sleeping form, and reaches out to push the hair back that has fallen over Lan Xichen’s face.

He lets his fingers linger there for a moment, basking in the fact that he can do this and that Lan Xichen trusts him enough to allow him this, and then Lan Xichen turns back on his back, robe falling open and exposing his chest.

Jiang Cheng moves his hand lower, splays it over Lan Xichen’s heart and then he starts to draw.

Jiang Cheng has never been as good with spells and charms as Wei Wuxian has been, but this he can do well.

The strokes come back to him easily and it’s not long before Jiang Cheng finishes the charm. It glows purple for a second before it fully sinks into Lan Xichen’s skin and Jiang Cheng allows himself a small smile.

“What are you doing?” Lan Xichen’s sleep slurred voice suddenly pierces the quiet and Jiang Cheng shifts his gaze to his face.

“Nothing,” he promises and cuddles close to Lan Xichen again. “Sleep,” he whispers and Lan Xichen sighs before he curls his arm around Jiang Cheng to pull him close and then does exactly that.

~*~*~

Lan Xichen is over a lot after that first night. Jiang Cheng isn’t going to question it and it’s also not really a surprise, with how the Elders almost forced Lan Xichen back into seclusion once he ended it after two years.

It’s no wonder Lan Xichen doesn’t want to spend more time in the Cloud Recesses than he already has to.

“My heart,” Lan Xichen greets him when he steps from his sword and Jiang Cheng is quick to welcome him with open arms.

He’s pretty sure he will never tire of the easy way Lan Xichen steps into his embrace, accepts his touch and affections, and it makes Jiang Cheng go warm all over.

“My light,” Jiang Cheng replies and brushes a kiss over Lan Xichen’s cheek. “Escaped yet again?” Jiang Cheng then asks and smirks when Lan Xichen blushes.

“It’s not like I have to stay at the Cloud Recesses. Uncle is still acting as Sect Leader and Wangji is Chief Cultivator. There isn’t really much for me to do these days,” Lan Xichen says and while it’s said with a smile Jiang Cheng knows that he misses the boring, repetitive work of answering letters.

“You can help with my paperwork if you want,” Jiang Cheng tells him and laughs when Lan Xichen perks up at that.

Only Lan Xichen could love paperwork.

They make their way to Jiang Cheng’s study and Jiang Cheng just has to tug Lan Xichen in for another kiss when he notices the little spring to his step.

“I wish I could get this excited over paperwork,” Jiang Cheng sighs against Lan Xichen’s lips, “it would make it a whole lot easier.”

“Ah, but you have me for that,” Lan Xichen gives back and steals another quick kiss before he drags Jiang Cheng into the office and towards the looming stacks of paperwork.

They settle down—having established a routine for this already—and get started.

At first Jiang Cheng had kept Sect Business away from Lan Xichen, but that changed quickly enough. He knows Lan Xichen would never do anything to hurt them, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t actually want to keep any secrets from him.

They are immersed in their respective letters when Lan Xichen suddenly looks up, the motion startling Jiang Cheng enough to raise his head as well.

“I love you,” Lan Xichen says and Jiang Cheng’s eyes go wide at that.

They haven’t said it yet, even though Jiang Cheng is reasonably sure they both feel that way, and before Jiang Cheng can find his words and give the sentiment back, Lan Xichen goes pale and slaps a hand over his mouth.

He staggers up to his feet, stumbling into the nearest wall and levelling Jiang Cheng with a look so accusatory that a cold shudder goes down his back.

“Xichen?” he carefully asks and Lan Xichen jerks at his voice.

“What did you do?” he presses out, horror audible in his voice and Jiang Cheng frowns at him.

“I did nothing,” Jiang Cheng says, even though he doesn’t even know what’s going on, but Lan Xichen shakes his head.

“You did, I know you did. I remember it, you know, you painting something on me. Did you put a spell on me?” Lan Xichen asks, his voice going high with his panic and Jiang Cheng opens his mouth before the full implication of what Lan Xichen just said hits him.

“A spell,” Jiang Cheng repeats, voice flat. “You think I must have put a spell on you because that’s the only reason you could love me,” he goes on, his voice as dead as he feels.

It hurts, more than Jiang Cheng knows how to put into words, to realize that Lan Xichen would rather think there was a spell put on him than that he really is in love with Jiang Cheng, simple as that.

Jiang Cheng gets up on his feet as well, though he can’t quite bear to look at Lan Xichen.

“It was a protection charm,” Jiang Cheng still tells him, because he will not allow Lan Xichen to believe that Jiang Cheng is really that despicable and then he turns away. “I just wanted to keep you safe,” he tacks on, voice barely above a whisper, as he walks away from Lan Xichen.

Jiang Cheng can’t believe he was stupid enough to allow himself to be happy, even for a few weeks. He should have remembered that he doesn’t get to keep good things.

~*~*~

Lan Xichen finds him an hour later at the private pier right behind Jiang Cheng’s room.

“You are no longer welcome here,” Jiang Cheng says without turning towards Lan Xichen, even though his heart is heavy in his chest.

“I am so sorry,” Lan Xichen says in response and comes closer, despite Jiang Cheng’s words.

“I know I’m not a good person,” Jiang Cheng says, “but to think that you would believe that I could sink that low, that I am that despicable—,” Jiang Cheng shakes his head as he trails off.

“Let me explain?” Lan Xichen carefully asks and sits down next to Jiang Cheng, who turns his head away.

He isn’t sure there is anything that could justify what Lan Xichen thought him capable of doing, but he shrugs anyway.

“Back before everything, before Nie Mingjue’s death, I thought I was in love with him,” Lan Xichen starts and Jiang Cheng clenches his jaw.

He doesn’t want to hear this. And yet, he doesn’t stop Lan Xichen.

“I got nervous around him, sweaty hands, fluttering in my stomach, you know, the whole thing,” Lan Xichen goes on and Jiang Cheng does his best to breathe through the pain.

“And then he died and I moved on,” Lan Xichen explains and Jiang Cheng can see from the corner of his eyes that he’s looking down at his hands. “And I moved on to A-Y—Jin Guangyao,” Lan Xichen tells him and Jiang Cheng thinks that if he clenches his jaw a little bit more, he might crack a tooth.

“It was the same with him,” Lan Xichen says, “butterflies in my stomach, sweaty hands, just like with Nie Mingjue.”

“Good for you,” Jiang Cheng presses out, aware that he’s being unnecessary mean, but he can’t help it.

He sees Lan Xichen flinch at his words, and while a very cruel part of himself is satisfied with that, the bigger part wants to reach out and soothe the hurt he just caused.

“And then there’s you,” Lan Xichen goes on, voice softer than it was before, and Jiang Cheng wants to get up and run away because he does not want to hear this.

“I feel none of these things with you,” Lan Xichen says and Jiang Cheng didn’t know it was possible to experience that much pain and still live through it.

“With you I just feel at ease, like I’m home, like by your side is the only possible place for me to be, like it’s where I belong,” Lan Xichen goes on, voice soft and staring out at the water.

“I thought I was in love with them, but it turns out it was barely a crush,” Lan Xichen mumbles. “I didn’t know it was possible to love someone as much as I love you and it made me panic,” Lan Xichen finally admits and turns his head towards Jiang Cheng.

“I never experienced feelings as deep as I have for you, and I thought it couldn’t be. I took my fleeting crushes on my friends as the baseline and I panicked when I realized I was wrong.”

“And I know I can never apologize for what I insinuated, but I had to let you know. And I had to let you know just how sorry I am,” Lan Xichen lowly finishes and stands up. “I will go back to the Cloud Recesses. If you—if you ever want to talk again, you’ll find me there.”

Lan Xichen turns away from him and Jiang Cheng doesn’t know what he’s feeling, but he can’t let Lan Xichen walk away from him.

“Xichen,” he calls after him, effectively halting his steps, and when Lan Xichen turns around there’s naked hope on his face.

“It was just a protection charm,” Jiang Cheng repeats and Lan Xichen gives him a small sad smile.

“I know,” he replies and Jiang Cheng realizes that he must have examined the charm by now. “It’s fuelled by your love for me,” Lan Xichen says, voice low and hopeful and Jiang Cheng nods.

“And it will still protect you,” he says, because right now he can’t tell Lan Xichen that he loves him, too.

This is the best he can do.

“Oh,” Lan Xichen breathes out and puts a hand over his heart. “Does that mean—,” he starts and then trails off. “I don’t want to assume. What does it mean?”

“It means you can stay,” Jiang Cheng says and gets up on his feet as well. “I need some time, but you don’t have to go.”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know if they can go back to the way it was before, but he knows that he definitely doesn’t want Lan Xichen to leave and he doesn’t want to lose Lan Xichen either.

Jiang Cheng hopes the rest will come over time.

“Alright,” Lan Xichen whispers and gives a small, shaky smile to Jiang Cheng. “I really do love you, you know,” Lan Xichen tells him and Jiang Cheng nods jerkily.

“Yeah, I might need a while for that,” Jiang Cheng admits but he takes Lan Xichen’s hand when he offers it to him.

“I understand,” Lan Xichen tells him and squeezes his hand once. “I’ll ask for a guest chamber,” Lan Xichen says but falls silent when Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

If Lan Xichen sleeps in a guest chamber, then Jiang Cheng will get lost in his head and make everything worse again.

“No, it’s—stay,” he presses out and his heart does the same little flip it always does when Lan Xichen smiles at him like this, radiant and happy.

“I will,” Lan Xichen promises and Jiang Cheng just hopes he can believe him.

They will need time to get back to how it was before—if they can even manage that—but Jiang Cheng is carefully optimistic now.

They will work it out.

This now comes with amazing art!!

{Buy me a kofi}

[omg-imagine]

⊱ Forget Me Not (7/15) ⊰

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader

Summary: After you wake up from a coma and realize that your memories from the last five years have been erased, Keanu works to bring back what you have lost.

Words: 3.6k

Warnings: None

A/N: So sorry for the delay! I was super busy and wasn’t able to finish writing in time to post yesterday. Anyway, it’s sort of filler chapter this week but definitely one of my favorites to write so far. 

Also, we’ve reached the halfway point of the story and things will start picking up in the next few chapters! There may or may not be smut in an upcoming chapter and if I do end up writing it, I’ll give a heads up in the warnings. 

Again, thank you so much for the lovely feedback and I hope you enjoy!

Part 6

Staring up at the ticking clock on the wall, you silently counted the hours that have passed since Keanu had gone to the Arch office to take care of a few business matters. It was the first time he has left you home alone, and truth be told, he was a bit more worried than he should have been. You, however, were adamant that he went ahead, not wanting him to neglect his responsibilities in favor of babysitting you.

After finally convincing him that you can handle being by yourself, Keanu left, slightly reluctant but keeping his promise of not allowing circumstances to interfere with his life. Once he arrived, you had received occasional text messages from him, replying to each one sincerely just to give Keanu some peace of mind. He was sweet for checking on you, and you couldn't really blame him for his overprotectiveness. You knew that it would come to pass when everything goes back to normal.

Or, so you hoped.

Even though you were glad that Keanu was working again, you couldn't help but miss him. Despite only being away for nearly six hours, the silence in the house was getting to you. You've kept yourself occupied by doing a couple chores around the place. Every room was spotless by the time you finished cleaning, leaving you with nothing else to do for the rest of the day.

Frankly speaking, you were beginning to feel a bit stir crazy being stuck inside. Sure, you've done grocery runs with Keanu and go on long walks with him around the neighborhood every morning, but you had yet to explore what Los Angeles had to offer. You wanted to check out the popular tourist spots, see the famous Hollywood Sign with your own two eyes, and hit up the shops on Rodeo Drive. Maybe even hike a trail at Griffith Park or drive down Sunset Boulevard where towering palm trees flanked the street.

You were just about to text Keanu and ask what time he was coming home when you heard the deep, rumbling sound of his motorcycle outside as he parked on the driveway. Swiftly, you hopped off the couch, dashing out of the front door just in time to catch him swing a leg over the saddle before dismounting.

As you approached Keanu, you couldn't stop yourself from staring as he took off his helmet, running a free hand through the length of his dark, disheveled hair, unaware of your presence. Unzipping his black leather jacket, you watched as he pushed back his sunglasses onto his head, revealing his rich brown eyes. 

Obviously, you were very attracted to him. And to this day, you wondered how a man like Keanu chose you over anybody else.

"You okay there, Y/N?" Keanu asked after turning his head and meeting your widened gaze. He chuckled under his breath as the heat rose to your cheeks, realizing that he had caught you gaping at him.

"Uh, y-yeah. Yeah, of course," you stammered, covering up your embarrassment with a shy smile. "How was work today?"

"It was productive," he answered with a nod. "It's actually a good thing that I went today because there was an issue with getting parts to make a client's bike, but it all worked out in the end. Sorry for leaving you home alone. You must have been bored, or maybe grateful that you got a break from me."

You laughed at his attempt at adding a joke in there. "Honestly, I was extremely bored. I did some vacuuming and laundry around the house and a bit of light reading afterwards. But I'm happy you got work done today. Imagine what your client would say if he found out you weren't available because you were too busy watching over your girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" Keanu repeated as if he couldn't believe what he had just heard.

"Isn't that what I am to you?" you inquired, slightly nervous. Not because of Keanu's reaction, but of the word that slipped out of your mouth. It was the first time you admitted out loud that you were Keanu's girlfriend, and it made it somehow feel a little more real.

"Yeah," he spoke, his eyes lingering over your features. "You're my girlfriend, but you're so much more."

You smiled sweetly at Keanu, silently exchanging affectionate glances with him until you found your voice again. "Can we go out and do something today?"

"Like what? Do you want to go to a park or see a movie?"

Suddenly, an idea sprouted in your mind. "I want you to take me to where we had our first date."

"Our first date?"

"Yes," you nodded eagerly. "I know you told me the story about it, but now I really want to go see the place for myself."

"It's Saturday, Y/N," Keanu pointed out. "It's going to be busy there. Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, Ke. It's gonna be fun," you giggled. "Be right back, I'll grab the car keys."

Quickly leaning up to kiss him on his cheek, you sprinted back inside the house, almost tripping over your feet from the excitement rushing through your veins. You missed the look of amusement on Keanu's face, however, as he watched your retreating figure, a smile tugging at his lips.

---

The traffic, although currently better than most days, was still horrendous. You had taken at least two naps in the car only to wake up and find out that Keanu had only driven five miles each time. Not even the calming sight of the blue Pacific waves on the right was enough to keep you distracted from the torturous wait.

"How much longer?" You asked him with a whine.

"According to the GPS, we still got 25 minutes to go," Keanu replied, briefly glancing at you. "Funny enough, you were also this impatient years ago. You hated traffic, and you were practically begging me to exit the highway and do this some other time."

"I'm not surprised," you shook your head as you cracked open the window, allowing the fresh ocean wind into the vehicle. "Why couldn't we just have dinner like a typical first date?"

"This was actually your idea back then," Keanu recalled with a small chuckle, making you roll your eyes. "But like you said before, it's going to be fun when we get there."

"If we get there," you sighed deeply.

"Hey, don't be like that. It's just traffic, you'll learn to tolerate it eventually."

Laughing, you glanced back at Keanu. "I sure hope so, or else I'm moving back to New York."

A few minutes went by, and you were too busy staring out of the window to notice Keanu suddenly switching to the right lane until he called out your name.

"What is it?" You said, watching him point at an upcoming mile marker.

"That's the exact place where we met for the first time."

As he said those words, the car slowly passed by the small green sign with a printed digit. Turning your head back to look at Keanu, you noticed that he was smiling adoringly, not at the spot he had mentioned, but instead, at you. Seeing it made your heart flutter, and you thought about how funny the universe worked. It had brought two strangers together nearly five years ago, resulting in a seemingly perfect love story.

Keanu's voice drew you out of your reverie. "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing serious," you told him. "I was just wondering again how life could have been different if I hadn't met you."

"And what do you think it would be like?"

You pondered for a moment, comparing the life you could remember with the one you had now. Even though you still felt a bit lost in this new world of yours, you couldn't recall the last time you were this happy, safe, and loved.

Facing forward, you gazed at the stretch of highway before you. "I think it would have been lonely."

---

You were twelve years old the last time you visited a boardwalk by the beach. Your parents had surprised you with a trip down the shore just before school started, and you stayed one night at a cheap motel that was only a block away from the water.

You remembered all the funnel cakes they bought you, the games they spent a lot of money on just so you could win a stuffed toy. You could still hear the clickity-clack of the wooden coaster, and how much you both enjoyed and feared the thrill of riding it. And at the end of the day was the firework show, which became the most memorable part of the trip.

As Keanu guided you up the wooden walkways, you felt a sense of nostalgia as you glanced around the Santa Monica Pier. It was a lot bigger than the one you've been to and had far more people exploring the boardwalk all throughout. Standing by the entrance, you could already see the ferris wheel and the rollercoaster just to the side of it. You felt like a little kid again as you looked around, not knowing exactly where to start.

"If we're doing this like our first date, we should have a round of water race," Keanu suggested, offering you his arm to which you happily took it.

"Lead the way, Reeves."

Arriving at the booth, you and Keanu took a seat at the two vacant spots before he handed the game operator $10 to play. You glanced at your side and realized that you were playing against three children who looked as though they had more experience than the both of you combined.

"Oh god, I don't want to lose to ten-year-olds," you whispered with a light-hearted laugh. "I suck at this game, are you at least any good?"

Keanu arched his brow with a slight grin. "Are you kidding me? I'm better than you."

Playfully punching his shoulder, Keanu then shot you a wink before the operator announced that the game was about to start. Gripping on the metal handlebars, you shut one of your eyes and aimed your gun at the target in front of you. At the sound of the bell, you pushed down the trigger, the stream of water hitting the target directly, and you quickly glanced up to see what place you stood.

"Gee, Ke," you chuckled after seeing how he compared to you and the other players. "I thought you were good? Those kids are beating you!"

"I didn't say I was good. I said I was better than you," Keanu smirked as the buzzer went off, signaling that someone had won, and it was neither you or Keanu that did.

"Well, you still got beat by a little kid. What's your excuse for that?"

Keanu got off the stool, pulling you up on your feet as well. "You were distracting."

"Distracting?" You scoffed playfully. "What did I do that got you all distracted?"

"You sitting there pretty was enough to make me lose focus," Keanu revealed.

"So, what do you want me to do? Stop being pretty just so you can win?"

Shaking his head, Keanu reached down and grasped your hands in his. "You can never stop being pretty, no matter how hard you try."

Walking further down the Pier, Keanu stopped when he reached a booth where a Shoot the Star game was set up. Convinced that he would be able to win you a prize by playing, Keanu slid a bill across the counter to start the game, picking up the BB gun before aiming it at the paper star.

"You sure you got this, Ke?" you questioned him.

"Of course, I do. Watch."

One by one, Keanu shot out every bit of the red star off with a high degree of precision, his skill coming as a shock to both you and the man tending the booth. Out of one hundred pellets, he only had to use about thirty of them to completely obliterate the target faster than you had seen anyone else do. His head turned slightly, a sly smile plastered on his face as his eyes met yours.

"Where the hell did you learn how to shoot like that?"

"John Wick boot camp," he simply responded. "What prize do you want?"

Picking out a brown, fluffy teddy bear hanging in one corner of the display, After it was handed to Keanu, he then presented the toy to you. Smiling, you accepted the prize, not even caring that the stuffed animal was poorly made, and some of the seams were unraveling. What mattered was that it came from him.

"You know, I haven't seen any of the John Wick sequels," you noted as you two began walking away, hand-in-hand. "We should watch those when we get home tonight."

"Anything you want, sweetheart," he said with a gentle squeeze of your hand. "Anything for you."

You and Keanu played a few more games together, learning how competitive he was when it came to versing you and others. He was stopped for a couple of occasions to take pictures with his fans. It warmed your heart, seeing the way he interacted with them, especially with the younger kids. He was so kind to them, so attentive and caring. You could understand why everyone fawned over him.

And it was for the same reasons why you were falling for Keanu.

Falling. Was it too soon to say that? You weren't sure, but all you could think about now was the way he held your hand and how he smiled so brightly at you, making you feel like you were the only person he could see. There were no other words to describe the feeling other than falling.

After a quick bite, you led Keanu towards the ferris wheel, something you had been looking forward to riding the second you arrived at the Pier. Once inside a passenger car, the wheel slowly began to turn, moving clockwise as the world below grew smaller the higher you rose above the ground.

The silence that fell between you was far from awkward. Instead, it was peaceful and comfortable. You were aware of how close you were sitting beside Keanu, feeling his heat as it radiated from him. He put one arm around you, drawing you even closer to his body. Leaning against him, you rest your head on his shoulder as you took in the beautiful scenery outside. At some point, the wheel stopped at the very top, your cart softly swaying to the gentle wind blowing against it.

"You okay?" He asked, shifting his eyes to look at your face. You didn't notice your grip around his arm had tightened.

"I am. Just a little scared of heights, that's all."

"Don't worry," he murmured as you tilt your gaze upwards. You saw how he was focused on your lips, and if you leaned in just enough, you could almost…

The wheel suddenly moved again, the sound of the hydraulics causing you to jump as the ride began its slow descent back to the loading dock. You were disappointed at missing your chance to kiss Keanu, wanting nothing more than to finally feel his lips on yours.

"Hey, you want to see something amazing?"

Smiling broadly, you then nodded. "Sure."

The sand between your bare toes was soft and warm to the touch. Each fine grain was colored with a golden hue, and it sparkled underneath the setting sun. Eventually, you and Keanu neared the edge of the ocean, the cool waters lapping at your feet with every languid wave washing up to the shore.

Carrying your shoes in one hand while Keanu held the other, you continued to walk down a quiet section of the beach. The breeze blowing from the tide tousled your hair as the briny smell of the air invaded your nose. 

You could almost taste the salt on your tongue.

"Let's stop here," Keanu halted his steps after picking out a spot close to the shoreline, but far away enough so that the water didn't reach you.

Carefully, he lowered himself onto the ground, pulling your hand down to have you do the same. You settled in between his legs, your back pressed against his firm chest as his arms wrapped around you. You felt Keanu rest his head against yours, his scruffy beard tickling your skin as you release a contented sigh.

The sun above began to dip behind the horizon. It cast an orange haze over the ocean and painted the skies majestic shades of red and pink. The last of its rays gave off a gentle warmth, bidding farewell to let the night take over. Craning your head up, you saw Keanu’s soft smile, his face aglow by the waning light as he appeared to be lost in his own thoughts.

You were able to get your phone out and take a quick snapshot of him, the small giggles that escaped your lips breaking his stare.

"What are you doing?"

Shrugging, you tossed your phone to the side, landing right next to where your shoes laid on the sand. "I took a picture of you."

Keanu chuckled as his head moved closer. "Why?"

"I want to relive this memory one day," you explained. "Thanks for the second-first date. I really had fun today."

"Do you remember…?" He trailed off, but you knew what he was asking.

"No," you sighed sadly. "It's okay, though. Because now I have this to look back on while waiting for the old ones to come back."

"Okay," Keanu added, his eyes boring into yours. "I had fun today, too."

"Good. I'm glad."

A beat passed, and once again, you found yourself staring at his lips, which were only mere inches away from yours.

"I love you, you know?" He blurted out, catching you by surprise. Of course, you knew that he loved you, but hearing him say it outright felt different. "You don't have to say it back now, but I want to remind you that I still do."

Strangely, those three words were right there at the tip of your tongue. You could say it, but something was holding you back. Was it fear? Uncertainty? Perhaps it was all too soon for you.

"Tell me about our first kiss," you murmured, your gaze unwavering.

"I told you that story already, remember? We were at the overlook and—"

"No," you interjected with a shake of your head. "Tell me how it felt."

Keanu darted out his tongue to lick his lips, his breath softly fanning your face. "When we kissed for the first time, it was like time stood still for those few seconds. I was nervous during the whole thing because it had been a while, but being with you, I realized that there's nothing to be scared of. It sounds cliche, but I felt sparks while kissing you. After that, I never wanted to let you go."

You stayed silent. Instead of speaking, you let yourself lean into Keanu. Your lips brushed against his tentatively before you pulled away, your eyes flickering up to see the pleading look on his face.

He wanted it as much as you did.

Your gaze lowered, and again, you placed your lips on his, although this time, they stayed there. Eyes fluttering close, you kissed Keanu gently and sweetly as he brought his hand up to tenderly cup the side of your face. It was everything you had imagined and more. 

But eventually, the two of you broke apart to breathe, severing the connection. Right away, you wondered when your next kiss would be, believing that if it was already this good, it could only get better from this point on.

"That was…" Keanu mumbled, nearly breathless.

"Amazing," you finished for him as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face and stroked your cheek. "I don't know what else to say."

Pressing his lips to your forehead, Keanu then sighed happily. "You don't have to say anything else. I already know."

With one last smile, your attention returned to the vast ocean and the disappearing sun, the taste of Keanu's lips lingering on yours.

For one, fleeting moment, you thought that you could stay this way forever.

---

Walking back to the car, Keanu couldn't help but grin with you by his side. He was on cloud nine after today's adventure. Even though you still couldn't remember anything, he loved how he was reliving these moments again. He never realized how long it truly has been since you had both enjoyed yourselves.

Opening the car door for you to climb inside, his cell started to ring, echoing throughout the parking garage.

"Who's calling?" You curiously asked as Keanu stood with one hand holding the door.

Fishing out his phone, he suddenly froze when he saw the caller ID. 

It was Molly. 

Keanu eventually knew that she would try reaching out to him after he had told her of what happened to you. It came as a shock to him that it took her longer than he had expected. But he didn’t want to deal with it right now. 

He still wasn’t sure when he’ll be able to.

"It's just spam," Keanu said, the lie smoothly rolling off his tongue. It was becoming too easy for him to do that, lying.

Without a second thought, he turned off the screen and placed the phone back inside his pocket. Jogging to the driver's side, he took one deep breath in and out before opening the door and sliding inside.

Just for tonight, Keanu wanted to hold onto something he hasn't felt in a long time. 

Happiness.

And he didn’t want her ruining it.

Part 8

Taglist: @penwieldingdreamer​ @fanficsrusz​ @toomanystoriessolittletime​ @awessomness​ @meetmeinthematinee​ @ringa-starr​ @ficsnroses​ @iworshipkeanureeves​ @keandrews​ @greenmanalishi​ @feminine-machinegun​ @lussdew​ @allie1804-fan @flaminasteroid 

[jaysworlds]

i wrote a mermay fic :)

i wrote a fic! for mermay! because i love mermaids!

it’s freddie/alexei, who are my ocs who i adore but you don’t actually need to know anything about them to read it (course if you read it and then WANT to know more my ask box is always open :)

Word count: 6365

Content Warnings:

-hallucinations

-near death experience

-a lot of ocean shenanigans

-like one mention of a dead body

Alexei loves the sea, always has. It’s always been a refuge when everything gets too much. He knows it could kill him, but he’s never felt safer than when he’s sitting underwater, getting washed back and forth by the waves.

It kind of makes sense that he goes into diving. He doesn’t think he’d survive a job in an office for hours every day, unable to get outside. He hates being trapped.

He loves diving. It suits him perfectly, really, getting to spend every spare moment in the water.

He doesn’t spend a lot of time with his co-workers outside of work, though he should. It’s always safer to have a diving buddy, he just … like diving alone, if he has the option.

It’s not the safest, but he accepted long ago that it probably wouldn’t be old age that killed him, and drowning is better than the alternatives.

They say it’s rather pleasant.

He’s good at it, anyway. All the money he can spare goes into keeping his gear in good condition, and he’s not in the habit of being reckless.

But it’s not skill that saves you, down there. It’s luck, and everyone’s luck runs out eventually.

Alexei’s runs out on a cold weekend at the beginning of October. The diving season is over, and so he’s not working, just diving for fun, and he’s alone.

There’s a ship (or what’s left of it) about a hundred and eighty-five feet below the surface. He’s been there before, and he loves it, just drifting through the empty corridors. It’s a little deeper than the recommended dive limit of a hundred and thirty feet, but he’s done much deeper dives, and he doesn’t worry too much.

It’s cold as he’s driving down the beach, sky overcast, but the sea is perfectly calm. It’s a good day for diving.

The beach is almost empty. It’s not surprising, on a day this cold, but it’s nice not to have to manoeuvre his car past a thousand people who’ve parked on the ramp clearly marked access required at all hours – do not obstruct.

There are only a couple of other people on the pier, and they wave to him as he parks and starts unloading his things. He knows everyone who works here, and everyone who dives regularly, and they know him.

He’s got a boat, a tiny thing that just about fits him and his gear, and he loads it up, humming to himself. The wind picks up a little, blowing his hair into his eyes, and he pauses for a moment to tie it back, looking out at the grey sea. He likes days like this.

There aren’t many other ships about. Not many people still dive at this time of year, and those that do mostly stick to shallower waters.

He leaves a slip of paper with where he’s going scribbled on it, just as good practice, and then heads out onto the sea, the wind playing with the strands of hair too short to make it into his ponytail.

The wreck isn’t far, but it’s too deep to see and so he has to rely on his instruments to tell him when he’s made it.

His instruments aren’t the best, but they do the job, and his life doesn’t depend on them working.

It’s about forty minutes from the docks, he knows that, and the time is about right when the GPS tells him he’s arrived. The boat bobs gently as he cuts the engine and starts collecting together his gear.

The sea is grey and opaque, and he stares down into it for a moment. Some days it’s almost clear enough to see down to the wreck, but not today. Today he can see barely ten feet.

It’s alright, though. He doesn’t need to see.

It starts raining as he’s pulling on his gear, and he shoves the bag with his dry clothes under a seat. The rain isn’t heavy, just pattering quietly on the surface of the sea, and for a moment he stops to listen. It’s comforting.

He didn’t come all the way out here to listen to the rain, though. He checks his gear twice, just to be sure, and then tips back off the edge of the boat.

The first few seconds of being underwater are always his favourite. The cool water pressing in around him makes him feel safe.

His weights start pulling him down immediately, towards the wreck nearly two hundred feet below him, and it’s not long before the surface is completely out of sight and he’s surrounded by dark water on all sides.

He has a flashlight, but it’s not much use here. He could see a few more fish, maybe, but the fish come up to him anyway, curious. They’re only small, nothing big around here, and they scatter when he reaches towards them. He laughs softly, waving his hand back and forth and watching them flee.

He pauses to check his equipment at fifty feet and a hundred feet, but everything’s fine. Better than fine, really, though he fumbles with pressure gauge and nearly drops it. It’s fine, though, everything’s attached to him, so he couldn’t lose it anyway.

He doesn’t bother at a hundred and fifty feet. He’s nearly there and everything’s going so well that he doesn’t think he even needs to.

It’s not long before the wreck is in sight, a huge, hulking shadow looming out of the darkness. He watches it get bigger until he’s standing on the deck, looking around at the rusted metal jutting out of the dark. He’s been here before, several times, but looking around at the ship he can’t remember the route he used to get in. The first door he tries is rusted shut and won’t budge, as is the second, so he drifts over the edge of the ship, looking for a hole big enough to get in.

There is one, the edges sharp and ragged, and he drifts through it and into the belly of the ship.

It’s a big place, the metal walls covered in algae, and small fish dart out of his way if he disturbs anything.

It’s still too murky to see far, and after a few minutes of wandering aimlessly, squinting to see, he remembers his torch and fumbles with it, trying to switch it on. He’s struggling with the switch, though he never usually struggles, but his gloves seem to be getting in the way and he drops the torch to take them off, forgetting that the strap isn’t around his wrist. The torch sinks slowly, disappearing into a tear in the metal of the ship’s floor. Alexei watches it disappear, almost confused, and then realises he needs that.

The hole isn’t big enough to fit him, so he reaches into it, hoping his torch hasn’t fallen far. The metal is sharper than he expects, and after a moment of trying to find it he feels a rush of cold water against his bare skin and tears his arm out of the hole, confused.

His wetsuit’s torn all down the arm, blood oozing from a shallow cut and being carried away by the water, but he can’t feel it, so it can’t be that bad.

It’s cold, though, without the protection of his wetsuit. The water drifts in and out of the tear, cold against his skin, and he shivers, trying to hold the rip closed. It doesn’t work, of course, and he can’t swim like that anyway, so he lets it go and resigns himself to being cold.

The cut on his arm is still bleeding, but he isn’t worried about it. It doesn’t hurt, and there are no sharks around here anyway. He’s unlikely to get eaten.

His torch is probably a lost cause, but it’s fine. He should probably start heading up soon, as soon as he’s found his way out of the ship.

He has time, though. It’s not a pressing matter.

The ship creaks as he moves through it, swaying a little in the currents around it. It’s at an odd angle, and it’s a little disorientating to manoeuvre through. More than once Alexei manages to swim into the walls of the ship, or a doorframe he’s trying to get through. He’s not moving fast enough for it to really hurt, though, just drifting aimlessly through the dark water.

He’s just started looking for a way out in earnest when he hears someone call his name and hesitates, looking around. No one came down here with him, and he didn’t think anyone had planned to dive here today.

The sound comes again, but he shouldn’t be able to hear anything, not underwater like this. Even if there is someone down here, how would they be speaking?

He checks his radio, but it’s silent, the light off. It wouldn’t work this far down anyway and he drops it, forgetting the strap isn’t around his wrist.

Whoever it is calls again and he forgets about the radio drifting towards the ground, trying to head towards them. Sound carries strangely underwater, but it sounds clear enough.

It sounds like his father.

“Hello?” he calls, or tries to, but his voice is lost in a rush of bubbles.

They call out again, more urgently this time, and he kicks his feet, trying to move faster through the wreck. He doesn’t know why, but he needs to find them.

And find them he does.

He’s seen bodies underwater before. The way they drift back and forth, buffeted by the currents and staring unnaturally.

That doesn’t make it any easier though, not this time.

It’s his father. He doesn’t know how; his father has been dead for years, but somehow…

“Alexei.”

Alexei sobs. It’s lost in a rush of bubbles past his head.

His father smiles, and it looks so wrong.

“It’s okay,” he says, and reaches out, towards Alexei. It should be comforting, but it’s not. “Come here.”

Alexei hesitates, not sure what to do. He wants to reach out, misses his father so badly it hurts, but this … this isn’t right.

“I don’t…” he starts, and then stops. He can barely speak through the regulator, and he reaches up to pull at it. It’s tight, and his fingers faulter with the straps.

“Alexei,” his father says, with more urgency, and Alexei gives up trying to take it of carefully, tearing it away from his face hard enough that the tube snaps. His remaining air disappears in seconds, and without the added buoyancy he sinks towards the floor of the ship.

“Alexei,” his father says again, and Alexei finally reaches towards him, not caring about much else.

His father smiles once more, and Alexei just manages to brush his fingers before he disappears, melting into water.

“No!” Alexei cries, and suddenly he’s choking, lungs filling with water.

It’s at this point, of course, a little too late, that his mind catches up to what’s going on.

He’s fucked up. He’s fucked up, and he’s going to die.

He’s not as upset about it as he should be. Lux will miss him, he knows that, but there are worse ways to die.

Maybe if he’s lucky they’ll even find his body.

His lungs are already burning, and his vision is beginning to blur and fade.

It’s going to be over soon. It’s going to be over soon.

Except … it isn’t.

It’s dark, when he wakes up, and he aches all over, but he’s alive. He feels alive, at least. Not that he really knows what that should feel like.

He feels around for his torch, but he dropped it back in the ship, and so he has no chance of looking around. The floor is damp, though, cold stone, and it feels like an underwater cave.

How did he get here? He doesn’t remember any cave systems around the ship, and it would have taken a miracle for him to somehow make it here himself, but who else could have dragged him into a cave like this, especially as they would have had hardly any time before he drowned.

Things are starting to come back to him, and he’s starting to realise how stupid he was. He can recognise the symptoms of nitrogen narcosis, though he’s never had to actually experience it before.

He kind of understands why you’re not supposed to dive alone, now. He hadn’t done anything wrong, it had just been … bad luck.

He should be dead, really. He doesn’t understand why he’s not.

He’s been sitting there for a few minutes, anxious, when he hears something moving about in the darkness. He reaches for his knife this time again, which he doesn’t remember dropping, but that’s gone too.

It goes silent again as soon as he moves, and he exhales slowly, nervous.

Nothing happens for a moment, and then the sound comes again, slower this time.

“Hello?” he calls, squinting into the darkness as if he has any chance of seeing what’s going on.

There’s a long silence, and then…

“You’re awake.”

Alexei exhales slowly. So it’s a person. That’s good, at least.

“Seems that way.”

“Good,” the person says, after a pause. “I thought maybe you were dead.”

Alexei huffs a faint laugh. “I nearly was. I guess I have you to thank for that?”

“I guess so,” they say. They sound kind of nervous. “I’m glad I could help.”

Alexei nods, though he knows they can’t see him. “Where … am I? Did you take my knife?”

“A cave,” the person tells him. “And … yeah.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want you hurting yourself. Or me.”

That’s fair, Alexei supposes. He was somewhat manic earlier, and he could have lashed out.

“Fine. How deep are we?”

“How deep?”

“Yeah. How many feet?”

“How many…” the person laughs softly. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Sorry.”

Alexei sighs, feeling around for his gauge. It’s still attached to him, thank goodness, but he can’t see it in the darkness. He should’ve gotten one of the ones with the light-up faces.

“I can check my gauge,” he says. “But I don’t have a torch.”

“Oh,” the person says. “You can’t see.”

“No,” Alexei says, a little confused. “Can you?”

The person doesn’t answer. “I’ll get you a light,” they tell him, and he hears a quiet splash.

“Okay,” he says, although he thinks they’re gone.

They’re back a few minutes later, and he hears the faint clink of metal on stone.

“There,” they say, and something touches his leg.

He picks it up, cautious, and finds that it’s a torch. Not his, it’s heavier than his, an older model, he thinks, but when he pushes the switch it still lights up, though it’s dim.

He checks his depth gauge before anything else, and finds that he’s nearly two hundred and fifty feet down. Nearly sixty feet lower than he’d been in the ship.

How did he get here? He’s sure he didn’t sink that far in his narcosis induced haze. He’d still been in the wreck when he lost his oxygen.

He sighs, turning the torch towards the person on the other side of the cave.

It’s hard to make them out properly in the dim light, but they’re not quite what he expected. They’re still half in the water, just their head and shoulders visible above the dark water, but they’re definitely no one he knows, no one he even recognises from the dive school.

They’re not wearing any kind of gear, as far as he can tell, not even a wetsuit, and that … that’s stupider than what he was doing. It’s not safe to free-dive around here, especially not at this time of year, and especially not if you’re going to be exploring.

“How did you get down here?” he asks, kind of amazed.

They shrug, as though it doesn’t matter. “I live not far from here.”

“I mean … how did you get this far down with no equipment?”

He’d hoped they’d have something, perhaps a spare regulator, because he’s no free-diver and he won’t make it to the surface from here without something.

They laugh a little, surprised. “Why would I need equipment?”

“So you don’t drown?”

They laugh again. “I won’t.”

Alexei shakes his head, rubbing his hand over his face. “It’s your funeral, I suppose.”

“You’re the one who nearly died.”

“I guess,” Alexei says, though he’s not convinced. “Thanks, by the way.”

They smile. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m Alexei.”

They smile again, a little brighter. “I’m Freddie. Hi.”

“Hi,” Alexei echoes. “You planning on getting out of the water?”

Freddie shrugs. “Not really. It’s comfortable.”

“It’s freezing.”

“To you, maybe.”

Alexei sighs, looking up for a moment at the roof of the cave. “I don’t understand you.”

“I don’t understand you either. Why did you pull the mask off your suit?”

“Nitrogen narcosis,” Alexei admits. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“What’s that?”

“What’s…” Alexei trails off, confused. It would take an incredibly skilled diver to free-dive this deep, but this guy doesn’t even know what nitrogen narcosis is? “Drunkenness of the deep, you know.”

“I know what drunkenness is.”

Alexei shines the light back at him, watching him squint, and studies him for a moment. He’s got dark skin, hair pulled into a messy bun, and he’s resting his head on his arms, looking sideways at Alexei. Something about him seems … off, but Alexei can’t tell what it is, and he’s starting to suspect that maybe the nitrogen narcosis hasn’t worn off as much as he’d thought it had.

“Can you get out of the water?” he asks, cautious.

Freddie eyes him for a moment and then sits up a little. “Alright. If it’ll make you feel better.”

He pulls himself out of the water with apparent ease, and Alexei shines the torch down his body, not really caring if it’s kind of weird.

The light glints off scales, deep red as far as Alexei can tell, and he switches the torch off, angry with himself.

There’s a silence.

“Are you okay?”

“Go away,” Alexei says, a little petulantly. Telling what’s almost certainly a figment of his imagination to go away probably won’t do any good, but maybe it will make him feel a little better.

“Did I do something wrong?”

That throws him off a little. Freddie sounds … anxious, a little concerned, and real or not Alexei feels a little guilty for snapping at him.

“No, it’s just … I’d rather be alone right now.”

“Oh.”

There’s a long, drawn-out silence. Alexei would like to believe Freddie’s left, but he can still hear breathing, soft and low.

Maybe that’s his own.

He picks the torch up again, cautious, and flicks it on. Freddie’s still sitting in the cave, tail wrapped around his body, and he jumps when the beam hits him.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I just … can I help?”

Alexei sighs and turns the torch off again. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

Alexei puts the torch down, though he’s careful not to let it roll away, and pulls his knees up to his chest. “Yes.”

“What are you upset about?”

“I’m going to die down here.”

“No,” Freddie says, and he sounds very sure about it. “You’ll be okay.”

Alexei just snorts, not bothering to respond, and hears Freddie sigh.

“You’ll be okay,” he says, again. “I can bring you food, if you need, and…”

“You’re not even real.”

There’s a long silence. Alexei kind of hopes saying it out loud snaps the hallucination, though maybe a hallucination is better than being alone.

“I’m real,” Freddie says. He sounds a little confused.

“Sure,” Alexei says. He’s pretty sure arguing won’t help, and he doesn’t really have the energy.

“I am,” Freddie insists, and Alexei feels him shuffling around in the dark. “I promise.”

“Sure,” Alexei says, again, and hears Freddie sigh.

“Really,” he says, and something cool brushes Alexei’s wrist.

It takes him a moment to realise that Freddie’s touching him, and he snatches his arm away, shuffling away and picking the torch up, shining it in Freddie’s eyes.

He seems almost frozen, hand hovering in mid-air.

“Don’t touch me,” Alexei says, a little too harshly. Real or not, Freddie’s a stranger, and he didn’t ask.

“I’m sorry,” Freddie says, withdrawing his hand.

Alexei shrugs, leaning against the cave wall and leaving the torch on. He doesn’t want to be taken off guard again.

He doesn’t really know what to think, honestly. He doesn’t know if it’s normal to be able to feel a hallucination, but if Freddie’s not a hallucination then…

Well.

“Maybe I should go,” Freddie says, after a few minutes of silence. “I … I can bring you some food, if you want?”

“Alright,” Alexei says, and he thinks he’s kind of relieved.

“Okay,” Freddie says, nodding to himself. “I just, um… what do you eat?”

Alexei thinks about that for a moment. “I don’t suppose you cook your food?”

Freddie shrugs. “I … don’t know?”

“Fine,” Alexei says. “I can eat most fish, just … bring my knife back, please.”

“Okay,” Freddie says, though he sounds a little nervous. “Please don’t use it on me.”

“I won’t,” Alexei tells him, and leans against the wall.

Freddie nods and wriggles over to the entrance to the cave, dropping himself through the hole and disappearing into the dark water.

Alexei keeps the torch trained on the hole for a moment, to make sure he’s actually gone, and then switches it off. He doubts there are any spare batteries around here.

If Freddie comes back, he tells himself, then he’ll have to seriously consider the possibility that he’s actually real, somehow, and not a symptom of the nitrogen narcosis that hasn’t completely worn off.

He’s not sure which outcome he hopes for. If he is real then at least Alexei isn’t alone down here, at least he has a chance of survival, but mermaids being real is kind of a lot to process, really.

Maybe they’re just very good at hiding.

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but it’s very dark, and the only sounds are his own breathing and the soft back and forth of the ocean lapping at the mouth of the cave, and they lull him to sleep after a few minutes.

When he wakes it’s to someone calling his name gently, and he sits up. Sleeping on the floor of a cave hasn’t done wonders for his back, and he aches, but he fumbles around for the torch.

Freddie’s back, still half in the water, and he waves when the beam of the torch hits him.

Maybe he is real.

“Hi,” he says, and pulls himself out of the water, offering Alexei his diving knife and a dead fish.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, taking them both. The fish is a large salmon, and he spends a minute trying to set up the torch so he can gut it.

Freddie’s watching him, but he tries to ignore him, carefully descaling and gutting the fish, leaving the offcuts in a small pile.

The knife isn’t ideal for the job, and he makes a bit of a mess, but food is food, even if he has to eat it raw in a cave in the dark. At least he won’t starve.

Water is probably going to be more of an issue, but he doesn’t ask about that right now.

“Can I have those bits?” Freddie asks, pointing at the pile of offcuts, and Alexei nods, curious.

He drops the scales and bones out of the cave and eats the guts, humming to himself, and Alexei huffs a faint laugh, chopping his part up into neat slices, or as neat as he can manage with the knife he has.

“Why don’t you eat those bits?” Freddie asks, when he’s finished and watching Alexei eat.

“Taste bad,” Alexei tells him.

Freddie wrinkles his nose. “That’s not true. They’re good.”

“If you say so,” Alexei says, a little amused. “I don’t like them, though.”

“Weird,” Freddie says, thoughtful. “There were a lot of people in the ship, just now.”

Alexei frowns. “The ship you found me in?”

Freddie nods. “They were collecting your stuff, I think.”

“Right,” Alexei says. They must be friends of his, who’ve realised he never went home and come looking.

He must have been here longer than he’d thought.

“Yeah,” Freddie says. “They were upset, I think.”

“They must think I’m dead,” Alexei says, and buries his head in his hands.

Poor Lux. He wants to find her, tell her he’s okay, but he would never survive leaving the cave without equipment.

“Are you okay?” Freddie asks, quiet, and Alexei glances up at him. He reaches out and then pulls his hand back, apparently remembering how Alexei reacted last time.

“I need to get home,” Alexei says, although he has no idea how. “My friends will miss me.”

“Oh,” Freddie says, and he sounds almost disappointed.

“Was Lux there?” he asks. “She’s … tall, white hair?”

Freddie considers for a moment. “I think so.”

Alexei nods. She doesn’t dive very often, but she would’ve come down if they thought he was in trouble.

He’s glad he didn’t die there. He would hate for her to find his body.

“How will you get back?” Freddie asks.

“I don’t know,” Alexei admits.

Freddie considers for a moment, opening his mouth as though to say something, and then apparently changes his mind. “Oh,” he says, finally. “Okay.”

Alexei closes his eyes, painfully close to tears, though it’s stupid. He’s lucky to be alive.

“Do you know if there’s fresh water around here?” he asks, just kind of hoping that Freddie will leave.

“Yeah,” Freddie says. “Why?”

“To drink?”

“I can probably get you some,” Freddie says, although Alexei can tell he doesn’t get it.

“Please,” Alexei says, and he nods, slipping back into the water.

Alexei turns the torch off and puts a hand over his mouth, trying to silence himself, though there’s not one to hear him.

He can’t help crying, really. He misses the triplets and his friends from the dive school, and he just wants to go home. He can’t live down here.

He doesn’t know how long Freddie will be gone, and he stifles the tears as soon as he can, taking deep, shaky breaths. He’s going to be okay. He has to be.

Freddie comes back a while later with what looks like a bucket, though an odd one, full of water.

“Here,” he says, and offers it to Alexei.

It’s fresh, despite being carried through the salt water, and that’s kind of impressive, honestly.

Alexei drinks a little of it and then puts it aside, careful not to spill it.

“Why do you need fresh water?” Freddie asks, curious, and Alexei shrugs.

“Humans need water to survive.”

“But there’s salt water everywhere. Is that not good enough?”

Alexei shakes his head. “If I drank too much of that I’d go crazy and then die.”

“Weird,” Freddie says, thoughtfully. “Humans seem kind of fragile. No offence.”

Alexei shrugs. “I guess so,” he says. “We’re pretty hardy in some situations, though.”

“Like what?”

Alexei doesn’t really want to sit here talking, but it’s not like he has much else to do, and Freddie’s so curious. It’s kind of sweet.

“Sometimes people survive huge falls,” he says, humouring him. “And there’s this thing called hysterical strength, that helps people do crazy stuff like lift cars in emergencies.”

Freddie considers that. He looks a little sceptical, and honestly Alexei doesn’t blame him. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Alexei says. “It’s pretty cool.”

“Can you do that?”

“I assume I would, in the right situation. Never happened, though.”

“Huh,” Freddie says. His tail is twitching, just a little, where it’s laying on the stone, and Alexei wonders if it’s just a nervous tic. “That is pretty cool.”

“Have you talked to humans before?” Alexei asks, and Freddie shakes his head.

“No. We’re not … really allowed. Kind of dangerous, you know?”

Alexei nods, a faint smile pulling at his lips. “Makes sense. Humans can be kind of … shoot first, ask questions later.”

“Yeah,” Freddie says. “I probably shouldn’t have rescued you, honestly, but it felt unfair to let you die.”

“Thanks,” Alexei says, kind of touched. “I appreciate it.”

Freddie’s really nice, honestly. It takes a few days for it to really sink in that he is real, but Alexei knows well enough that the nitrogen narcosis has worn off by now, and anyway, he thinks he actually likes Freddie.

He’s very chatty, full of questions, and Alexei tells him about his life, about Cas and Lux and Gem and his friends from the dive school, about life on land. Freddie tells him things in return, about his friends and the city he grew up in, and it’s honestly fascinating.

It’s nice enough, living in the little cave, but Alexei’s still pining to go home. He likes Freddie, really he does, but he misses the sun, and he misses his friends, and he just wants to go home.

Freddie doesn’t want him to leave. He never says it outright, but Alexei can tell from the way he reacts when he talks about.

He kind of gets it, that Freddie likes him around, but he can’t help it, and he just wants to see Lux again.

Freddie must realise eventually that he’s unhappy, because he asks one day.

“Do you really want to go home?”

Alexei glances up at him. “Yeah.”

Freddie sighs, tail flicking back and forth in the water. “Is it … because of me?”

“No,” Alexei says, rolling the torch back and forth across the ground. “You’ve been really kind to me, but I just … miss it.”

“I’m sorry,” Freddie says. “I could … I could take you home?”

Alexei stares at him for a minute. “You could?”

Freddie nods, biting at his bottom lip.

“Could you have done that this whole time?”

“I … kind of,” Freddie says, not looking directly at him. “But I … didn’t think you’d like it.”

Alexei exhales slowly. “Why not?”

“It’s kind of … invasive?”

“What do you mean?” Alexei asks, cautious. He wants to get out of here, but he’s not sure how far he’d go.

Freddie glances up at him for a moment. He looks almost shy. “I … breathe out the kind of air you need, you see? I could get you back to shore.”

Alexei thinks about that for a moment, letting it sink in. He thinks he could deal with that. He trusts Freddie.

“Is that what you did to get me here?” he asks, and Freddie nods.

It’s like … CPR, kind of. He’s done a couple of first aid courses, he’s fine with CPR.

“Okay,” he says, and exhales. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Freddie echoes. “You’d, um. You’d have to let me touch you.”

Because they haven’t. Not since Alexei pushed him off and said don’t touch me, because Freddie’s good like that. He hasn’t pressed.

“That’s fine,” Alexei says. “I don’t … mind being touched, exactly. I just don’t like it when it’s without warning.”

“Okay,” Freddie says, nodding, and Alexei can see him thinking about asking, but he doesn’t. Not now.

“When can we go?” Alexei asks, after a moment’s silence, and Freddie shrugs.

“We should go at night.”

“Okay,” Alexei says. “When is that?”

“Soon,” Freddie tells him, and he nods.

“Just … tell me when, I guess. I can’t really go anywhere.”

“Yeah,” Freddie says. “I should … go tell someone where I’m going. I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay,” Alexei says, and watches him disappear out of the cave.

It’s a while before he comes back, and Alexei is half asleep when he hears the familiar splash and feels around for the torch.

“Hi,” Freddie says, waving a little when he switches it on.

“Hi,” Alexei tells him. “Are we going?”

“Yeah,” Freddie says, a little sadly. “It probably won’t take too long.”

Alexei nods, casting around for his mask and pulling it on, then standing up and walking over to sit by the edge of the cave. Freddie hesitates for a moment and then offers him a hand, cautious.

Alexei gives him a tiny smile and takes his hand. His skin is cool, kind of damp, and he smiles back, squeezing Alexei’s hand gently.

“Come on,” he says, and pulls Alexei out of the cave and into the ocean.

It’s just a good as ever, and Alexei closes his eyes for a moment as Freddie starts towing him. He’s surprisingly strong, stronger than he looks, and Alexei opens his eyes again just to watch him moving, fascinated.

They swim for a few minutes and then Freddie stops, waving his tail lazily back and forth to keep them in place. Alexei thinks he says something, inaudible through the water, and then he cautiously leans in to press their lips together.

It is kind of like a kiss, no matter what Alexei tries to tell himself, though it’s not like he’s ever kissed anyone but Lux. Still, it means he can breathe.

He thinks he probably wouldn’t mind kissing Freddie even if not for the oxygen.

They can only move for a few minutes at a time before Alexei’s lungs start to burn, but they cover a surprising amount of distance in that time. Alexei barely has to do any work at all.

It’s only about half an hour before the ground beneath them starts sloping upwards towards the surface, and maybe five minutes from there before they break the surface and Alexei gets his first breath of fresh air in weeks. It’s dark, the moon casting a little light over the waves, and the beach is abandoned.

He can see the dock from here, easily close enough to swim to.

“I guess this is it,” Freddie says, and Alexei turns to face him. He hasn’t let go of Alexei yet, but he doesn’t mind so much.

“Yeah,” he says. “Thank you for looking after me.”

“It’s okay,” Freddie says, earnest. “I’d do it again.”

“I hope you don’t have to.”

Freddie smiles a little. “Yeah. Me too. Still, I’d like to see you again?”

“I’ll visit,” Alexei offers, and Freddie smiles.

“I can come up to the dock, if you’d like.”

Alexei nods. “I work there,” he says, “I’ll be there most days.”

“Okay,” Freddie says, pulling him a little closer to press their foreheads together. “I’ll see you then.”

“See you,” Alexei says, and Freddie finally lets him go, letting him find his own feet.

It’s only a short swim back to the beach, and he stumbles out onto the sand, looking out at the sea one last time. Freddie is still floating there, and he waves when he sees Alexei looking.

Alexei waves back and then turns towards the road, pulling his mask off and letting it hang around his neck.

It’ll be a miracle if his car is still on the dock and even if it were he left the keys in his boat, so no chance of getting home that way. He’s not sure what the time is, but hopefully the buses are still running, because walking all the way home isn’t an appealing prospect.

It’s not until he’s actually getting on the bus that he realises he has no money, and the driver raises an eyebrow at him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, running a hand over his face. “I’ve had … one hell of a week.”

The driver laughs. “I can see that. Just get on, I’m not making you walk.”

“Thank you,” Alexei says, genuine. “I’ll make it up to you.”

The man just waves a hand and lets Alexei walk into the back.

He doesn’t sit down, not wanting to get salt water on the seats, just stands and clings to the pole as the bus bumps along the country roads.

He’s so tired, and he can’t wait to see Lux again.

It’s about a ten-minute walk from his stope, and he feels dead on his feet when he gets to the peeling yellow front door. The bell’s been broken for years, and he knocks harshly. Someone will still be up, he’s sure.

It’s Gem who opens the door, in their pyjamas, and for a moment they just stare at him.

“Surprise,” he says, and does half-hearted jazz hands at them. “Not dead.”

“Holy shit,” they say, and beckon him in. “Cas!”

“What!” Cas yells, down the stairs. “I’m busy!”

Gem rolls their eyes. “Tell Lux to come down!”

Alexei can imagine the expression Cas is making, but a couple of minutes later Lux jogs down the stairs and Alexei gives her a little wave.

She just stares at him in the same way Gem did, as though she can’t believe he’s here. Not that he blames her, really.

What she signs, finally, and then fuck.

Surprise! Alexei signs, and gives her a tired half-smile. Not dead.

She narrows her eyes and runs over to stand in front of him. Idiot. Hug?

He nods and she wraps her arms around him, soft and familiar. He buries his nose in her shoulder and hugs her back.

What happened? she asks, when she pulls away, and he just shrugs.

Explain later, he offers. Sleep now, please.

She sighs and shakes her head. Shower first. Then bed.

That’s reasonable enough, and he lets her push him into the shower before she disappears, presumably to tell Cas what’s going on.

A shower does him a world of good, washing the salt from his hair after days, but he’s even sleepier by the time he stumbles out and dries himself off.

Cas is waiting for him when he gets out, but he doesn’t ask questions.

“Good to have you back,” is all he says, and then he lets Alexei wander down the hallway to his room and collapse into bed.

He has no idea how he’s going to explain in the morning, but he’ll find a way. For now he just falls asleep, so glad to be home.

[borealis-strange]

Chapter 2: Kooks

Summary:

-Good morning guys - the woman said in a powerful voice. -I'm Altea. Your Potions Teacher -

The boys looked at each other in surprise.

- Excuse me - Milo spoke - We thought Delta would give us this class because ... well ... he specializes in this -

-Well, he won't. Delta asked me to give you this class. Delta may know a lot about potions but he is not an expert like me. - Altea spoke with a certain air of superiority - Now if you'll excuse me, we'll start with the class, we are already late.

Tag-list: @whitequeen-ofwillowgreen​

- Marshall - The black-haired guy just grunted slightly and covered his face with the covers - Marshall, you have to get up -

Marshall slowly opened his eyes to meet Lucas's smiling face. He blinked a few times before turning his back on Lucas. He felt again how his roommate was shaking him slightly by the shoulder.

-Shhhh I'm trying to sleep - Marshall said hoarsely.

- But you have to get up - Lucas replied - Professor Delta said you had to get up early. Do you want to be late for class?

-I don't care. I just want to sleep - Marshall said as he snuggled into his covers.

Lucas grunted. He walked over to the base of Marshall's bed and pulled on his covers to uncover him.

-Hey! - Marshall yelled when he felt the cold in the room.

-Now you'll have to get up,- Lucas said as he put the covers on his bed. -Class starts in ten minutes -

A part of him wanted to get angry but just couldn't. As much as he wanted he couldn't go back to sleep, so he stretched out a bit before getting out of bed.

He changed his clothes and went downstairs. The others had already finished breakfast and Delta was nowhere to be found, which was a relief to Marshall so that he wouldn't have to listen to his sermon about getting up earlier for the third time.

He headed for the kitchen without saying anything to anyone, not even a good morning. He took the carton of milk from the refrigerator and a glass from one of the shelves.

-Don't you want something for breakfast?- Lucas asked.

-I'm fine, thanks,- Marshall said as he took a sip from his glass of milk.

Lucas frowned.

-Do you always do that? -

-Do what?-

-Skip breakfast,- Lucas said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Marshall shrugged and took another sip from his glass.

-I've been doing it since…- He couldn't finish the sentence.

Lucas looked at him, waiting for him to say something.

-Since I'm 12,- Marshall said quickly, -I grabbed it as usual when my father stopped caring about me.-

 Since then, Marshall practically had to take care of himself: preparing his own food, going to school alone, and even he had to take care of the shopping and keeping the house in order. His father… had lost interest in all things, just left the house and came back late at night. Although his father was already trying to change his bad habits and reconnect with his son, Marshall wasn't sure if he could forgive him for leaving him for two years.

-I'll change that - Lucas sang. Marshall raised an eyebrow - I'll make sure that you get back into the habit of eating breakfast. Because it is the most important meal of the day!

Marshall chuckled at Lucas's enthusiasm. It was nice to think that someone cared about you.

-Hey! - Felix yelled at them from outside - Class is about to start -

Marshall quickly finished his glass of milk and put it in the sink

The boys went out into the courtyard to take their first potions class. The table was already set, with the cauldrons, spoons and jars they would use for class.

The weird thing was, Delta still hadn't shown up. They waited ten minutes and he showed no indication that he was coming soon.

Marshall took the opportunity to eat something more decent while the others played with paper airplanes.

Twenty minutes later, Delta came out onto the patio with a woman with long curly hair; she was dressed extravagantly in a dress that was made from pieces of fabric of different colors; she wore a blue beaded necklace and several bracelets.

Delta spoke to her about five minutes before the woman approached the table.

-Good morning guys - the woman said in a powerful voice. -I'm Altea. Your Potions Teacher -

The boys looked at each other in surprise.

- Excuse me - Milo spoke - We thought Delta would give us this class because ... well ... he specializes in this -

-Well, he won't. Delta asked me to give you this class. Delta may know a lot about potions but he is not an expert like me. - Altea spoke with a certain air of superiority - Now if you'll excuse me, we'll start with the class, we are already late.

“For Celene” thought Marshall "This woman is worse than Delta"

-You probably saw things about potions in your old schools.- The boys agreed silently. -Well, I want you to forget all that. I will show you the potions that will really help you. None of those silly things to make things bigger. One potion that must be learned to the letter is one of instant healing. You will never know when it can save your lives -

-We'll start with a basic instant healing potion. This potion is quite weak, it can only heal small wounds like shallow cuts or scrapes, but it serves as the basis for other healing potions-

Altea motioned for Milo to light the gas lamps. One by one he lit them all with his blue fire and returned to her place.

Altea rummaged in her bag for something.

-The basis of any healing potion is this,- Altea said as she showed them a deep pink bell-shaped flower, composed of six long petals. - They are roseas. Many people use them as decoration in their gardens but this plant has healing properties. You simply have to boil this flower for five minutes. -

She placed a few flowers in the cauldron of boiling water. She handed the boys a few roseas to start with their potion.

When Marshall placed the flowers in the cauldron, he was able to observe how the flower slowly shed a little of its pink color to stain the water.

-While that finishes boiling, I need you to cut these boldo leaves.- He handed them a cloth bag. - Grab a handful and with that you will have -

Each boy took his respective handful of leaves and passed them on to the next until the bag returned to Altea.

Marshall took the knife from him and started cutting the leaves all together. Altea didn't say how fine they needed to be, so he only cut them in half.

When Altea indicated that the five minutes had passed, Marshall carefully extinguished the alcohol lamp. He grabbed the wooden spoon and pulled out the flowers that were wilted.

He put the boldo leaves in the cauldron and waited another five minutes.

While they were waiting, Altea spoke to them about different things, about how she "fell in love" with the creation of potions, about her studies and how they forced her to travel all over the country collecting the rarest objects to make potions.

The rest of the class saw the different types of potions and what their bases were, what objects were used to make them more and more specific and how to enhance their effectiveness.

Things Marshall didn't care about in the least, he didn't even bother to take notes and surprisingly her Altea didn't scold him, unlike Delta.

___________

The rest of the week passed in the most monotonous way possible. With Delta's boring classes, with the homework that Marshall never did, and Milo and Felix's insistence on going out to the pier, which he always refused (not even Lucas managed to convince him). In the end the three of them went out while Marshall stayed in her room trying to get some sleep.

The only good thing was that Lucas kept his promise to him, every day he made sure he got up early and made breakfast for him. He had to admit that the food was delicious, the best he had had in years, in fact.

Finally Friday came, and Marshall could go back to his house but he had to put up with another long day of school first.

—Well guys - Altea said in front of the class - Today we won't have class here. We will go to the drift. -

The drift. Marshall had heard the locals talk about that forest. It was nothing special, just that it was the perfect place to get potion plants.

-Delta will come with us to take care of you. So ... put on your field clothes and pack your backpack with her potions things, we leave in ten minutes -

-But we don't have field clothes - Milo reproached.

—Then the most comfortable you have -

The boys did not question anything else and returned to the house to change

____________

It had been almost three years since Marshall went out for a walk in the woods. Marshall remembered that he used to do it all the time with his mother. How she taught him to identify some plants and taught him the basics of their magic, divination and dream interpretation. He felt a little strange.

-Isn't it dangerous to go out into the forest? - Asked Milo - I mean something like a dragon could come out -

-There are no dragons in Valparaíso,-Delta clarified. -The dragons are not from here -

—Yes, but… you never know. My brother said that he once saw a dragon -

Altea stopped.

-We've arrived,- she said as she took off her backpack and put it on the floor.

The boys looked around her. It was exactly like any other area of ​​the forest, full of strange trees and plants.

-What's so special about this place?- Marshall dared to ask while the others took out their potions things imitating her teacher.

-We're very close to a Roseas bush. -

Altea motioned for them to follow her to where she was. The boys approached the rosea bush.

-Take the flower carefully,- Altea instructed them. Marshall moved closer to the plant - But grab it by the stem, we don't want to mistreat the flower petals -

Marshall rolled his eyes.

-Oh! - Marshall heard Felix yell and stopped, pulling his hand away from the bush.

-I think something bit me,- Felix said as he rubbed his hand.

Altea moved closer to examine it more closely. On the back of his hand there was a red spot that almost completely covered it completely and it was slightly swollen.

-Nothing happened to you,- Altea said without concern. -It was the leaves-

-Leaves? -

-The leaves are poisonous, so avoid touching them - Everyone looked scared at Altea, even Delta - But it's nothing serious. It will just itch and hurt a little. In a couple of hours it is going to go away - Felix breathed in relief.

The boys continued to collect the flowers, being careful not to touch the leaves.

They collected around 20 flowers when Altea indicated that they were enough and that they will begin to prepare the potions.

-Will we do it alone? - Milo asked.

- Yes -

-But we barely did it once - Marshall protested annoyed.

-And with that you must have enough,- Altea said indignantly.

Marshall said nothing more. He put his backpack on the ground and sat down like the others.

He took all the things out of the backpack and set up his potion-making rack. With the cauldron on the tripod and with the alcohol lamp underneath. Milo did everyone a favor by lighting the lamp.

Once he had everything he needed up front, he realized that he had no idea how to do it.

How did she expect them to replicate it after only doing it once?

He took a deep breath. Maybe his potion would not be the best, Marshall firmly believed that he was going to be the worst of all, but he was not willing to sacrifice a part of his grade. Even if he got two points, it was better than nothing.

He glanced at Lucas to see what he was doing. He was separating the leaves from the roseas and then he cut them finely.

It's not like that, Marshall thought.

He turned to see Felix and Milo. Felix had apparently already put his flowers in the water and Milo had his hands in the cauldron to heat the water faster.

Marshall imagined that the others either did not know what they were doing or only vaguely remembered it.

Marshall began to separate the flowers from his stem avoiding damaging the petals, remembering how delicate they were.

He threw them into the hot water and set the timer for five minutes. He wasn't sure if that was the right time but it seemed reasonable to him.

He grabbed a handful of boldo leaves and began to cut them finely. When the five minutes were up he carefully scooped out the roseas and poured out the leaves. And he again set the timer for five minutes.

Finally, the timer rang. He grabbed the spoon and began pouring the potion into the small vials, trying not to spill too much. In total he managed to fill eight jars. Marshall saw that the others were finishing up as well, but they couldn't complete the eight jars.

Marshall noticed that his potion was the one with the deepest pink color and he wasn't entirely sure that was good. They all handed their potion to Altea and she put a name tag for each one.

Altea told them that would be all in the matter of the potions, but taking advantage of the fact that they were already there they could explore a little more.

Marshall had to admit that it wasn't as bad as he thought. He had forgotten how calming it was to walk in the woods. And even though he didn't listen to Altea's explanation about all the plants, he enjoyed the atmosphere. From the aroma of the flowers, from feeling the sun on his skin and all the sounds that the birds made. He considered going out more on his own, without having classes in between.

After two hours of that walk, Marshall was exhausted. All he wanted to do was lie down in his bed and sleep forever.

[the-peachpit]

ENDER MIRROR

No Romantic Relationships

Fandom: DSMP

TW: Past Abuse

“Damn it,” Tommy breathed out, “Ah fuck it!” he pulled up his fishing pole seeing the third empty line, not even a hook attached to the end. “You fuckers!” The blonde shook his fist at the river.

“You’re too loud,” Ranboo set his pole to the side letting it lay on the wooden dock they had built, “You’re scaring away the fish.”

Tommy threw his fishing rod to the side, “Stupid fucking fish.” He pulled his knees up to his chest resting his chin on them.

He caught Ranboo tying another hook to the end of his line without even asking-Tommy groaned. He was done fishing was frustrating and no fun he could think of a million other things he’d rather do.

“You swear too much,” Ranboo concentrated on tying a small metal hook to the end of the clear wire.

Tommy had already stabbed himself five times with the hooks not even trying to attach them to the line one of them was from a bad cast. He had brushed them off before now looking down at his fingers he noticed two of the red marks where the hooks had stabbed the tips of his fingers. Ranboo had offered him one of the Band-Aids he carried around for Michael and secretly Tubbo. He turned it down a little dirt was good for a wound, it’s what Wilbur always said. Wilbur never carried Band-Aids. Tommy closed his hands into fists-well not after they left home. A stick from a hook was nothing he couldn’t shrug off.

“Earth to Tommy,” Ranboo held the pole up waving it towards Tommy.

Tommy snatched the wooden end, “Would you stop waving that thing around. Can we go do something else? You don’t even like fish.”

Ranboo cast his line, “Tubbo isn’t a big fan either, “He scrunched up his weird enderman mouth the small slitted sides caving in, “But he enjoyed fishing.”

Tommy snorted, “There’s no way Tubbo would be into this it’s so boring!”

“He thinks it’s relaxing,” Rnaboo’s green and red eyes were on the water.

Rolling his eyes Tommy watched trying to focus on Ranboo’s line almost transparent against the gentle current. It was swallowed up and then released searching for prey.

“I can’t picture him standing still this long,” Tommy let his feet dangle off the end of the wooden pier the water gently lapping to graze the bottoms every once in a while. “But I don’t really know Tubbo much, anymore do I?”

“That’s literally the exact opposite of why I brought you out here,” Ranboo leaned forward his shoulders scrunched up by his ears.

Tommy looked at him cocking his head to the side.

“Stop acting like I replaced you, it’s getting old,” Ranboo turned his head.

Green and red eyes that were split across the middles starred at Tommy. He looked annoyed but more annoyed than when Tommy would be loud and obnoxious and annoyed that felt familiar. Ranboo actually looked upset with him-Ranboo never looked upset with anyone, not genuinely.

“Tubbo married you,” Tommy gagged at the word married, “Can you get more replaced than married?”

Ranboo laughed but Tommy couldn’t see what was so funny. He watched the man sitting cross-legged keeping his delicate skin far away from the water. Instead of his regular suit, he wore a black tank top that almost matched half of his skin and black shorts. If he weren’t an enderman hybrid he’d look boring. Tubbo didn’t really like boring people though.

“The second you came waltzing back I was getting myself ready for a divorce,” Ranboo wheezed.

Tommy raised a blonde brow, “Why?”

“I knew what Tubbo was doing,” Ranboo shrugged, “He was replacing me, he had you to elan n his whole life, and suddenly you were dead. He couldn’t cope and I was there to fill a hole. When you came back, and he stayed I was just as surprised as you.”

Tommy shrugged, “He likes you a lot, and I guess,” he deflated his shoulders sagging, “I guess I don’t totally hate your guts anymore, but you’re always on thin ice.”

“Noted,” Ranboo nodded, “You know,” he leaned back on his palms, “You’ll always know more about him than I do. His scars are the biggest mystery to me, and I don’t pry, but I wish he felt comfortable talking to me about them. They keep him up at night sometimes itching, and sometimes his body aches in a way he can’t get out of bed.”

Tommy looked back down at his hands the scars running across his fingers and palms-he was covered in scars. Small reminders from head to toe of a life he lived too long ago. His skin wasn’t a map like Techno’s-but it was close. He found them mostly on his arms and legs-the biggest addition was to his forehead. Where Dream had bashed his skull open. Tommy grew his bangs long the white streak prominent-he didn’t think he’d ever get them short again.

Ranboo pulled up another empty line, “Tommy,” his voice was soft losing the playful edge, “Are you okay?”

Opening his mouth Tommy felt his heart thump against his ribs, “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I be?”

Gentle hands held the translucent wire Tommy watched the wisps of steam rise from Ranboo’s hands. Even the small drops of water hurt his sensitive endermen skin. Ranboo returned Tommy’s confused look, “I think it’s pretty obvious, you never talk about your past with malice, but you went through so much.”

“Bit dramatic don’t you think?”

Ranboo looked out to the river, then back to Tommy, “Do you not,” He cocked his head to the other side swaying his long white and black bangs along with his floppy ears, “Do you not realize you’ve been wading in tragedy for years?”

“You’ve lost me Ran,” Tommy shrugged watching the river spotting a stupid salmon.

“You’re a child soldier for starters,” Ranboo frowned.

“L’manburg was our dream.”

“It sounds more and more like Wilbur’s dream every time I hear you talk about it.”

“Come off it, Tubbo can tell you-“

“We’ve talked about it,” Ranboo cast his line, “You two were bonded over being brainwashed into thinking you were bigger than you were. Wilbur sunk his claws deep into you being your brother.”

“Wilbur was,” Tommy looked down at his hands. Why was his skin so hot?

“Killed,” Ranboo said the word effortlessly, “By your own father who was never around- in front of you.”

He was blunt. Was that really what happened? It wasn’t that simple, there were layers he was skipping things. Tommy was there he saw it all it wasn’t bad.

“I was happy Ranboo when we were building L’manburg,” Tommy back peddled the conversation.

“You always reminisce in those days. Was it the last time you were happy?” Ranboo asked.

Tommy felt the heat creep up his neck, “That’s fucking stupid, I’m always happy.”

“That’s the problem,” Ranboo’s voice rose, “You died a month ago-like permanently in hell died. You came back fine.”

Tommy could hear his heart in his ears and desperately tried to breathe louder to prove to his throat it wasn’t closing.

“I-I,” Tommy stuttered, “It was all my fault. L’manburg, Wilbur-if I was better it could have been avoided. If I wasn’t me, maybe we’d still be in L’manburg and you’d be married to someone who wasn’t reliving dying in the middle of the night. I ruin everything. I started a war I couldn’t finish. I watched Wil change and didn’t reach out and he died. I betrayed Technoblade and hurt him. When Dream beat me to death, I thought I deserved it, the world would be free from Tommyinnit. I’d be free from hurting.”

Never putting it into words before Tommy felt the weight of his actions from the past few years. All he did was cause trouble, his father knew it, his brothers knew it, even deep down he knew his best friend knew it. Everyone always got into shitty situations because he ran his mouth thinking it was clever. The first day Tubbo said Tommy was quiet Tommy felt pride, being quiet meant being better. Sitting on that bench where an empty grave sat built by the only person who really cared Tommy dug his nails into his palms. Anything to not feel swearing the grave was his new beginning. Anytime Tommy felt too strongly he would dig into his palms until he could trace the crescent moon shapes indented in his skin.

“Has anyone ever told you it’s not your fault? None of it was your fault alone.”

Spinning his head to the side with wide eyes when he heard Ranboo shift Tommy thought the worst. Ranboo was toying with him, trying to get into his head before killing him. Maybe by pushing him into the river, holding him under. Lifting his arms in front of his face bracing for impact-he’d stopped fighting so long ago. Strong arms that could have easily broken his neck, strong arms had ended his life, but now they encircled him. With no malice, they embraced him tensing Tommy’s ragged breath made him feel like he was choking. Pressed against soft cloth Tommy was certain he’d be smothered. He accepted it his fight long gone. Stiffly Tommy sat in a hug, not one that was too tight like Wilbur’s when he told Tommy he could do better. Not uncaring and lazy like when Dream would visit in exile. A hug. Simple and gentle. Slowly Tommy felt a bubble rise from his chest. It traveled along his windpipe expanding as it broke to the surface.

A tear fell stinging its way out of Tommy’s bright blue eyes that had lost their shine. A singular warning to the start of a flood. It felt good, reliving to feel the wet cool water slip down his jaw. The bubble burst and Tommy did something he’d never done. Not when Wilbur yelled, not when Schlatt yelled, not when Sam yelled, not when Technoblade, not when Dream or anyone screamed at him. He took every blow with a smile for years being above it all. He didn’t know it was being stored away in his heart festering into his self-doubt and anxieties. It was the force suffocating him. As he cried into Ranboo’s shirt he finally felt like he could breathe. The bubble in his throat bursting as he screamed back at everyone who assaulted him verbally or physically.

He was scarred by unkind hands and instead of bandaging the wounds, he let them fester with mud, dirt, and hatred because he thought he deserved it. Finally feeling peace for the first time in months all it took was him dying for everyone to finally feel free. When he came back it all felt so painful and finally, he’d be what he always dreaded-alone. However, Tubbo and Ranboo accepted him so easily back into open arms. Invitations always felt like a trap to Tommy, but they were genuine. Caring for him gently making sure every hour he was holding it all together. He held it together for them. Being told he was allowed to not be okay, to feel and cry, it was crushing like a wave. Yet relieving as a cold drink on the hottest summer day. Tommy was free from the clutches of every pair of hands that circled his throat, held a sword to him and his friends. He wasn’t a hero gilded in gold expected to save or protect anyone. He was free to be anyone in a future that was stretched out bright in front of him in a small nation.

After what felt like hours but was realistically twenty minutes Tommy pried himself away from Ranboo worried his tears may have burned the man. To his relief, the enderman hybrid was unharmed protected by his clothing. Gently Tommy wiped his eyes with the back of his hand before looking back out to the gentle river. He pretended every current that whisked by was carrying every one of his fears away for the last time.

Looking back down at his hands Tommy saw the red pinpricks from the hooks.

“Hey Ranboo,” Tommy flexed his fingers, “Can I have some Band-Aids?”

Ranboo nodded digging into his pockets, “Sure thing.”

It was never too late to heal

[officialleehadan]

Boats and Salt Wind

Hello darlings! Alas, the smoke is blowing back in, but I almost don’t mind, because now everything smells like falling leaves and woodstoves.

Today’s story is for Jennifer. Thank you so much, darling. I look forward to every one of your comments!

Prompt: HGE – Riptide

+++

The next afternoon, Tony drove Evan and his bike into town. He was on his way to see their science team with the footage from their failed dive. The team had watched it first thing in the morning and Evan had been astonished at how bad the cave-in really was. From where Tony had been, it did look like Evan had been directly under the cascade of immense rocks.

He could hardly blame his friends for thinking that was the end of him. If he had seen it from their side, he would have thought the same thing.

When they reached the lab, Evan poked his head in for a brief chat and a relieved hug from Erik before he pulled his bike from the back of their van and started on his way down to the water.

Evan was happy to meet Eione and Anita at the dock. He had thrown on his swimsuit, and his towel and snorkel gear were in a sack over one shoulder. In one hand he had a jug of fresh water to rinse off with if he got in the water. If they had time, he wanted to take a quick look and see if he could find any of his lost equipment. He wouldn’t be able to retrieve any of it most likely, but he could come back with his scuba gear if he did find anything.

Anita’s boat was named the Sea Urchin. It was a mid-sized white and blue motorboat with a center console shaded by a plastic top overhead. By the time he got there, Eione and Anita were already onboard and ready to go. Evan climbed on board to join the two women.

“Morning,” he said cheerfully with a wave for Anita at the helm. She smiled back at him from where she stood, balanced lightly by one of the railings. He couldn’t help giving Eione an appreciative second glance. She was in a soft sea-green dress that fell just above her knees, and he was amused to note that her feet were bare.

“Morning!” Anita called back to him as she shoved them away from the dock with one good push. “You all good to go?”

“All ready, Ma’am,” he answered confidently. “Got my gear. I’m set.”

“Great! Help Eione cast us off, will you? I’ll get us out of here.” She fired up the engine and carefully pulled the boat away from the pier as soon as the mooring line was loose. Evan helped Eione pull up the bright fenders that protected the side of the boat and tucked them away in one of the benches before putting his bag into the other compartment to keep it out of their way. “Hold on, I don’t drive like a lady.”

As soon as they cleared the mouth of the harbor, Anita cranked the engine and headed up the coastline towards where they had found him. Anita seemed to know where they were going, so he sat back and trusted her to get them there.

The breeze was refreshing after the muggy heat of the island and Evan closed his eyes to enjoy it. Most places had air conditioning, Chris’s house included, but the walk to the dock from where Tony had dropped him off had left him sweating.

The warmth was nice; he just wasn’t used to it after months up north. Hopefully in another week or two it wouldn’t be so bad. It was more than a year since he had last worked somewhere tropical.

He opened his eyes and came over to Eione. She turned to look at him and scooted over until he could sit on the white plastic bench beside her.

“You have a good morning?” he asked her, getting a shy smile in return. “I didn’t have time to stop for pastries, or I would have brought tribute.”

“I always eat while I’m out in the mornings, but thank you for the thought, and it is a very fine morning,” she told him, raising a hand absently to push her hair out of her face. “Are you feeling ready to go back into the water?”

“Excited,” Evan laughed. “I knew the risks when I went down there, and I went in anyway. I love it too much to give it up because of one accident.”

“The current can rip out of that cave when the tide shifts or a storm is rolling in,” Eione told him with a shrug told him, and looked out over the water. “I’ve seen it so strong that I can’t swim against it. It might have been enough to draw you out.”

“Entrance must be pretty narrow to make a current like that in these waters,” he said curiously, wondering if she had actually been the one to help him onto shore. That was starting to look like a stronger possibility than he had thought. “Do you swim there often?”

“It’s a long way for me, but I try to go once a week or so. The lobsters like the coral cover there,” she explained. It wasn’t far from the edge of the boat to the water, and Eione bent to trail her fingers in the water. A wistful smile came to her lips. Evan could see how much she wanted to go for a swim. “There are shells there, too, sometimes, and coral for selling at the market,” she added after another moment of thought.

That made sense, he supposed. Anita said Eione had already been out that day and he knew she worked with Search and Rescue. Maybe she had just seen him get washed out of the cave and dragged him up on the beach.

“I saw your booth. Pretty impressive,” he told her. The pearls she was selling at the market had to be a huge draw for the tourists. If she found them all herself, it was even more impressive. She had a good selection.

“I collect whatever I can off the beaches and I keep my eyes open when I’m out swimming.”

“You go out every day?”

“When the weather is clear. Storms blow up so quickly in summer and the water gets treacherous long before the storm makes landfall.”

“That’s right, summer’s starting here,” Evan said thoughtfully. “I’ll have to talk with my boss and see what he wants to do if a storm blows in while we’re in one of the holes. Don’t want to get stranded.”

“I suppose that could be a real problem,” Eione agreed softly. There was something in her sea-blue eyes that might be worry, but somehow, Evan didn’t think it was for him. “The summer storms can be very fierce.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, and he tried to keep from staring at her too obviously. She really was pretty. Her skin was lighter than some of the other locals, including Anita. Maybe she was rarely out in the sun, and spent the rest of her time under the cover of her booth at the market. Maybe her family wasn’t from the Bahamas originally. She looked like she might have a Greek ancestor or two.

Eione excused herself quietly after a few minutes and went to stand next to Anita. She seemed to be guiding the older woman around something. What, Evan couldn’t imagine. The water around them was free of reefs as far as he could see.

He had to admit, though, Eione seemed to know these waters better than anyone. She would have to, he supposed. Free-diving was tricky business and she did it for a living.

This was the first time he had been offshore in a boat since he had arrived in the Bahamas, not counting his rescue by Anita two days ago. From where they were, he could see a wide stretch of the coastline.

Andros Island was the biggest of any of the Bahamian Islands, but its population was one of the smallest, barely cracking eight thousand residents.

Fortunately for scientists like Erik, the blue holes preserved that dotted the island preserved the bones beautifully. Better even than the tar pit or the marshes in Europe. They were a goldmine for anyone who wanted to study the history of the islands.

Never mind that it was dangerous for divers to go get the bones and bring them back topside, the things they learned from those fossils were amazing. What they learned from the animal bones was better, and even the stalactites deep in the caves answered questions about the past.

Evan liked to see how excited the archaeologists got when he and his team brought up a set of bones, but if he was honest, he wasn’t a diver so he could do that kind of work. It was all about going where no one had ever been, and only a rare few would ever go.

Down in the caves where there wasn’t anything to think about except the dive, he couldn’t get distracted and didn’t want to be. The quiet and the pressure of the water was meditative, and he always came back up with his heart pounding, more alive than any other time in his life.

The others on his team felt the same way. There were a lot of reasons they worked so well together, and that was one of them. They all knew about the quiet down in the black, even if they never talked about it.

Evan was shaken out of his thoughts when the boat started to slow, and finally came to a stop.

“The mouth of the cave is under that ledge of the reef,” Eione pointed, drawing their attention to a large, brightly colored reef. “You can’t tell from here, but the water is deeper than it looks there, and the cave under is deeper still.”

Evan leaned over the rail and thought he could see the mouth of the cave she was talking about.

At first glance it wasn’t a big opening, but as he looked closer, he realized the cave actually cut under a wide stretch of coral, the entrance bigger than the boat they stood in.

The water faded from the palest crystal blue to the deep sapphire he recognized from his other dives and he wondered how deep the cave actually was. Eione nodded over to a gap in the coral. “Just on the other side of that reef, you can see all the way down. The floor is visible, though it’s very hazy from the surface.”

Evan straightened and looked over at Anita. “Is it okay if I take a quick look?” he asked hopefully. “All I have is snorkel gear, but I should be able to see if there’s anything at the bottom.”

“Get,” Anita said and flapped a hand at him. She reached over to drop the anchor and leaned against the railing. “We’ll watch the boat. I doubt Eione brought a suit and I sure didn’t.”

Eione blushed and shook her head. “I didn’t think to.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Evan said as he pulled out his gear and got it on. “Another time maybe?”

At her slow nod, he threw her a grin before slipping down into the cool water and swimming for the entrance to the cave.

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HGE - Riptide

Evan Ross survived what no one before him ever has, and now he’s on the hunt for answers. His only clue is a single word that echoed through the water of a flooded cave.

Breathe.

Under Stone

White Sand Sky

The Hint of Answers

Drift to Home

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