#[heres my attempt at trying to write on silas again]

[just-a-queer-fanboy]

Help Wafaa, Mohi, and Fidaa!

This is Mohi: the brother of @wafaaresh. Both of their gofundme's are hosted by a friend in Baltimore, and both accounts have been vetted. Mohi is only 23 and is currently suffering from malnutrition and hepatitis due to the current bombardment of Gaza. Their mother suffers from chronic illnesses that they cannot find treatment or urgently needed surgery for. They lack access to food and clean, drinkable water.

As I write this, not even a third of his goal of 31,000 dollars has been reached, and Wafaa's goal of 100,000 has a mere tenth raised. They both lost their home, a good chunk of their family, and have been displaced over 10 times.

The high in Gaza is nearly 90 Fahrenheit for the next week, with 70% humidity. There is no shade. There is no drinkable water. Aid is being blocked from entering.

This is Wafa's new gofundme.

Note: She had to make a new campaign after issues with the old one. There are barely any donations at the moment.

Wafa is 29 and reached out to me to ask me to boost her campaign, and since I cannot donate, I am making this post to promote both her and her brother's fundraisers.

They are both young adults who had so many ambitions and hopes before the attacks began. And there is still hope for them to escape live freely, like every human deserves to live.

If you are able to spare a few bucks, even a donation of 5 or 10 dollars helps. I hope this post finds people who are able to donate. Nobody deserves to live like this.

(I recently learned of their sister, Fidaa. I will continue editing this post if I find gofundme's for other family members, so people don't have to wade through a million different reblogs to find them.)

This is Fidaa @fidaa-family2 , she is Wafaa and Mohi's sister. She is 29 and a mother of 2: Sila, her 2 year old, and Muhammed Amr, who is only 2 months old. Imagine going through this trauma at 2 years old, imagine going through this at 2 months old. Imagine giving birth in these conditions, where the healthcare system has been so destroyed they cannot even count the dead. It's unimaginable for many of us, but for them, it is their daily life.

They live in Mawasi Khan Younis, South of Gaza. She and her children are malnourished and have little to no access to medicine, especially what is necessary post-partum, let alone necessary for a malnourished baby!

She has raised a little over a third of her 10,000 dollar goal.

If this post reaches enough people who can and do donate, their family can live freely. No bombs, no disease, no thirst, no hunger. Their children can grow up happily, the way all children should. And I do believe that it is possible.

Again, please donate if it is at all possible. No donation is too small, nor too big. Everything counts.

**I'd like to add a note here not about the family, but about Palestine and Israel. I am not versed enough to decide whether there should be a two state solution, one state and which one, whatever. I'm 15, my opinions do not do jack shit. All I will say is innocent people are dying just for being palestinian and I'm against that.

I also know the current pro palestine movement has a major problem with antisemitism, which I previously engaged with due to ignorance and ignoring dogwhistles. I have since learned and am working to avoid doing so again, as I know I shared harmful content in an attempt to uplift a separate group, and that was wrong of me.

For now, all I can really say is Palestinians don't deserve to die, the IDF has committed war crimes, and that is not the fault of Jewish people. It's the fault of the Israeli government and military, not the citizens or people of the same ethnicity or religion. I won't tolerate bigotry towards either group on my page.**

[climbthemountain2020]

Hope of Spring - Chapter 25

Friends, we have reached the end!

This was my very first fic that I've written and published, and I can't tell you how much it means to me that you all came along for the ride with me. To those of you who made a habit of following all my updates and regularly commenting, you have no idea how much your comments lit up my day (even when I made you mad lol).

I was so nervous to go out on a limb and share my writing, but this has made me so glad I did. I hope you'll keep an eye out for me--I've got some other good stuff coming :)

And, more than anything, I hope you've enjoyed the story as much as I enjoyed writing it. <3

Now enjoy this tooth-achingly sweet, self-indulgent epilogue! Also on Ao3! Find Ch. 24 here

The sun was setting over the hills of Spring, and the hot day was giving way to a balmy evening of twinkling stars. The fireflies were dancing around the edges of the garden, and mourning doves and crickets could be heard calling out in the twilight. A shriek pierced the evening, as two figures shot from the garden maze, a dead sprint towards the stairs of the house.

“DAD!”

Tamlin was sitting on the stairs, whittling a small horse into an old piece of willow wood, when the two forms burst forward, hurtling toward him. The first figure dove, attempting to reach him in time, but the second figure was too fast, lunging on to the first with a grunt. The first, a boy, bellowed as the second, a girl, smeared a handful of mud down the side of his face.

“Kalliope, stop!” He slapped at her arms and face as she held him town, Tamlin looking over at the two teenagers brawling a few feet away from him.

“I told you it wasn’t going to go over well if she found out that you ate the last tart, Kyron.” The boy rolled then, pushing the girl’s muddy hands back into her own face as she wrinkled her nose and kicked. The twins rolled down the slight hill next to the manor as Tamlin sighed amusedly.

“Where’s Silas?” He called out after the two, still tumbling and now heaving great handfuls of mulch at each other.

“The fish pond.” Kyron gritted out as he slung the two of them into a nearby puddle, Kalliope gasping with rage. Tamlin sighed again, setting his whittling knife and the small figurine down and pushing himself off the steps to go drag his younger son out of the fish pond. Just as he made toward the gardens, a small boy, bright eyed and carrying a bucket, toddled out from the maze. He had sticks and leaves scattered through his light brown hair, a proud look on his face, and was soaked entirely through.

“Dada!” He pointed animatedly to the heavy bucket. “Fiss!” Tamlin peered into the bucket of, indeed, fish, who looked irritated at having been removed from their home. He laughed and ruffled the boy’s hair, trying to brush some of the nature out of it.

“Good job, buddy.”

“Fiss.” He confirmed, then stomped proudly back towards the pond.

Penny walked out on the porch just in time to see Silas walk back among the flowers, Tamlin watching him go and scratching the back of his neck. She hauled the baby she was carrying higher on her hip, then sent a little breeze to him and she began to walk closer. He turned immediately, love in his eyes as he found her.

“Baths tonight?” She asked, lightly.

“Baths tonight,” he confirmed with a laugh, gesturing over his shoulder to the twins, finally done sparring and attempting to brush themselves off. “How’s my Poppy today?” He came and kissed the cheeks of the baby in her arms.

“Your Poppy refuses to take a nap unless someone is holding her.” Penny cooed at the baby in her arms, who giggled and smacked chubby baby hands on Penny’s arms in response.

“Cass and Nes are coming tomorrow and bringing Irina and Osiris. “Kyron perked up at the mention of Irina, then immediately tried to play it off as Kalliope punched him in the side and snickered. He’d had a thing for Cassian and Nesta’s daughter, Irina, for years now. The twins were seventeen, along with Irina and Kit, the second daughter of Lucien and Elain, and the twins had spent almost every other weekend with the two since then. While the four were thick as thieves, Kyron was hung up on Irina in a much more romantic way.

“Maybe you won’t fuck it up and look like a total idiot in front of her this weekend, Kyron.” She smirked.

“Shut up, Kalliope.” He punched his sister in the shoulder as Tamlin sent them both a look.

“They get that mouth from you, you know.” Penny grinned at him and nodded enthusiastically as Silas waddled back out of the maze again, this time with mud adorning his cheeks and a very empty bucket trailing forlornly at his side.

“Fiss went home.” He shrugged sadly, as Tamlin came to scoop him up.

“It’s alright, sweet boy. We can go see the fish again with Osiris tomorrow, hm?” Osiris, the hulking, four-year old, sweet-as-a-button carbon copy of Cassian, was Silas’ very best friend. The little boy's eyes lit up.

“Siris!”

“Yeah, buddy. He’ll be here tomorrow.”

The group had all grown up together, their parents staying close after the war. Nyx, Nova, Sirene, and Kieran, the four oldest, had been the ones who’d taught Penny and Tamlin all about children–and also encouraged them to wait for a decade or so before trying for their own. The little winged Night Court heirs were all wild will and energy. Their cousin Sirene and her cousin Kieran were wild bursts of fire everywhere they went. The oldest four were off most of the time now, Nyx and Nova training in the Illyrian Steppes much of the time, Sirene shadowing her grandparents in Day, and Kieran learning how to help run Autumn as the heir.

When Tamlin and Penny finally had their fill of quiet and sleeping and decided to try for children of their own, they’d immediately been blessed with twins. Around the same time, Nesta and Cassian had Irina, and Lucien and Elain had Kit, and thus the second group of kids were born. Now, the group of teenagers was always fighting–with each other and everyone else. If you saw dust clouds kicking up or a tavern about to erupt into a brawl, it was certain you’d find the four of them there.

A third wave had hit all the friends another few years past that, which provided them with Osiris, Silas, and Azriel and Gwyn’s daughter, Catrin. The three were a wobbly mess of toddler antics, always sticky, muddy, or otherwise.

Finally, Lucien and Elain had just been graced with a third, their first boy, while earlier in the year Poppy and Nira, Feyre and Rhys’ third and final child, had been born the same month.

More often than Penny would admit, she would think back to that first time in the Night Court, where she’d sat under the stars with Feyre and Nova, shushing the sweet babe to sleep and allowing herself to wonder for the first time if any of this could be possible for her. She had shared her dreams with Feyre, even though she’d never been tempted to tell anyone before, and Feyre had pushed her. Told her it was possible for her to have that here.

Sometimes, she couldn’t believe how much time had passed. They all looked the same except the children–time meant almost nothing to her anymore. Since the war, they’d lived in a period of peace in Prythian, which made being High Lady of Spring a relatively easy job. After the dust had settled, they’d set up a series of town halls in the village, allowing the people to speak about what bothered them. At first, the people were hesitant, but Penny set up an anonymous system of reporting. Once they realized that the things they suggested were being taken to heart and no one was getting singled out, they became more comfortable with sharing and speaking openly about changes they wished to see.

Over the years, the town halls gave way to a council that helped with ruling over Spring. Ideas were shared willingly and enthusiastically, and votes were often held between the different provinces. As had been the plan, the tithe was done away with, and the people flourished for it. The celebrations were resurrected across the holidays in Spring, and Penny and Tamlin had had their fair share of Calanmais together, too–one of which was almost certainly responsible for Poppy. Spring was a place like it had never been before, and trust had been restored in its rulers.

In the summers, the children would spend the majority of their time in the Night Court. When they were young, they would help Elain in the kitchen or the gardens, or paint with Feyre in her studio on the Rainbow. As they grew older, some chose to train with the Valkyries or Azriel and Cassian, though they’d had to break up and separate Kalliope, Kyron, Kit, and Irina on a number of occasions.

In the deep winter, when Velaris was so cold that training was miserable, they’d all travel to Spring and return the favor, spending long warm days outside identifying plants, learning archery, horseback riding, and about all the creatures that lurked in the woods. It was a great exchange, and it allowed all the friends and their children to stay close. As the children grew and Lucien and Elain moved to Day, the warm summers were spent in the sun, running through the towns of white marble and down to the gentle slopes of the sea. It had been a wonderful few decades of peace and memory-making.

Tamlin pressed his lips to Penny’s temple. “It’s the last day of the month, yes?” She perked up.

“Yes! I went into town for it the other day. I’ll run get it and have Tally start the baths up. Stay here.” she handed him Poppy, and raced into the house. She ran into her old bedroom, now mostly storage for items they weren’t currently using and grabbed for the cloak on the bed. She’d purchased one at the seamstress in town this week, as she did the last week of every month. She grabbed it off the bed, wrapped it up gently in tissue paper, and went back to Tamlin so that they could go put it out in the woods by the birch trees.

On her way out, she ran into Tally.

“Baths?” Tally asked, amusedly.

“Baths.” Penny nodded, with a laugh.

Before she made it to the doors, she paused, taking a few steps out of her way to run her hands across the cracks that remained in the walls and floor by the eastern corner of the foyer. Out of the window, she could see Tamlin, baby pulled to his chest, chasing Kyron and Kalliope around the yard, now also covered in mud courtesy of the twins. Silas trampled behind them, roaring and tossing mud around a few steps away, all of them laughing uproariously.

She let her fingers trail along the cracks once more, a smile on her face, and she held the cloak close and walked out into the evening sky of Spring.

[wistfulenchantress]

ok i was doing a writing exercise for my fantasy novel (as in it is a fantasy that it will ever be an actual novel) and i wanted to develop the father (villain)’s character so i created his grandfather, Silas Grey senior. but i don’t like him so i just really wanted to give a fictional reader a reason to hate the bloodline. so i created Artemis and Jenna, a tragic love story with a bittersweet ending. tw for gore/violence/death/blood. anyway, here is this short story i wrote :)

Jenna is gone. “Nothing could fix this.” The desperation has left Artemis’s voice and is replaced with a broken whisper. She isn’t saying it to anyone, she is just saying it. Letting that last shred of hope leave her body, so the remaining shell can continue on somehow, until it is no longer necessary for it to do so.

She falls to her knees on the stony ground.

She barely even feels the dagger as Silas Grey pushes it into her stomach.

She barely even sees his wicked smile, as he stands and leaves her there alone.

She dimly realizes there was a lot of red on her hands.

She is vaguely aware of the fact that she is probably about to die.

‘Oh well,’ she thinks.

Her vision starts to blur, and she slumps sideways, her head hitting the stony ground. She notices a lot more blood spilling out of her stomach. A bit dripping out her mouth, as well.

“Artemis!”

She retains consciousness for just long enough to see the dead girl with tears shining in her eyes, and then it all went away.

—

Jenna gasps at the sight of Artemis, fallen to her side, her back turned. “Artemis!” she calls desperately. She runs around, and a scream escapes her lips as she sees the dagger, embedded in her stomach.

She locks eyes with Artemis briefly, but then the girl’s eyes slip closed, and her figure slumps even further down. Jenna falls to her knees, her mouth hanging open, with no sound but a whispered ‘no’ managing to escape.

Jenna traces Artemis’s face with her hand, brushing some hair out of her face, and a shaky breath escapes Artemis’s lips.

That shifts something in Jenna, and she starts screaming again, grabbing Artemis’s shoulders. “Artemis! Wake up! Please, gods, wake up.”

She lifts her head into her lap, and Artemis blinks slowly. “Artemis,” Jenna whispers, tears pouring down her face.

“Jen?” Artemis croaks. Jenna nods, sobbing and stroking her cheek. Artemis brings a shaking hand to rest over Jenna’s, blood smearing across Jenna’s wrist.

“I’m here,” Jenna manages, sobbing.

“Why are you sad? This is a happy time.” Artemis attempts to sit up, but winces and sinks back onto Jenna’s lap.

“Why, love?”

“You’re not gone. I thought…” Artemis’s eyes glaze over.

“I’m right here. Please stay with me,” Jenna begs, jostling the girl, and wincing as more blood pours out the wound.

Shit!

Jenna pulls herself out from under Artemis. This wakes the girl, whose eyes meet hers, panicked. “Don’t leave,” she manages to whisper. Jenna breaks a bit more inside. “I won’t. I can’t, I’m not going anywhere. I just have to look at the wound. I promise.”

Artemis looks satisfied at this, and Jenna edges her way over to the dagger. It’s not good. She pulls her jacket off, trying to wrap it around the wound. “Arty, I have to pull the dagger out. Please stay with me.” Jenna grabs Artemis’s hand, limp in hers. She chokes on another sob.

She pulls the dagger out, and pushes the jacket into the wound, trying to stop the flow. Her hands are dripping at this point, and she almost laughs. She ties the jacket off, and looks back at Artemis’s face. Her eyes are closed. “No! You have to wake up!”

Artemis doesn’t respond. Jenna pulls her up, holding her desperately against her chest, one hand tangled in her hair. “Jenna,” she hears, Artemis whispering in her ear. She gasps, pulling back to look at Artemis. Her eyes are alert, darting around.

“You’re going to be fine,” Jenna tells her.

Artemis smiles shakily, her trembling hand on Jenna’s cheek now. “Please don’t forget me.”

“Never,” Jenna cries, “I couldn’t. I love you.”

“I…” Artemis’s eyes slip closed again.

“Artemis! Please!”

Her eyes open again, glassy, and she opens her mouth. Jenna brings her ear to it, desperate to hear any more words before…

Artemis kisses her cheek lightly. “I love you, too, Jen.”

Jenna nods. “I know. I know, dear. Just stay with me, please, I need you. I need you.”

The weight of her head falls into Jenna’s hand, and they both sink into the ground, Jenna collapses over her chest, body wracked with silent sobs.

“It’s okay,” Artemis breathes out. Jenna looks at her as her eyes slide closed, and one last shaky breath escapes her lips.

Jenna stays with the body for a long time, unable to move, unable to accept the truth. She cries until she runs out of tears, and then she just screams. And when she is hoarse, she sits and stares.

Eventually, she stands. She takes Artemis into her arms, carrying the body with the utmost care.

She buries her next to a large oak tree. She finds Artemis’s killer, and he pays for what he did. She plants purple flowers at the grave, and talks to it for hours, or brings a book and reads, sitting under the tree. And, many years later, when she passes, she is buried next to the violet patch she loved so much.

History forgets them. Life moves on, but the violets keep growing. And when even the violets are gone, and the ground is beaten down by war and savagery, one day, a girl named Nyx and a girl named Vala finally work things out, where the violets used to grow.

[can-of-pringles]

When I'm Alone with You - Chapter 7

Rating: Gen

Warnings: None except references to depression

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Copia decides to go outside, needing some fresh air during his break.

Also Read on AO3

With the promise of seeing Silas again, Copia had found some motivation to leave his room more often. However, that didn’t mean the grief and guilt he was feeling had gone away. It still clung to him, attempting to drag him down in sorrow. But he had other things to keep him going. Silas, at least, was a welcome distraction.

While on his break, he decided to go outside; needing some fresh air. Despite how big the Ministry building was, it still felt suffocating; weighing down on him. He sat by himself on one of the stone benches, taking a deep breath and looking up at the clouds. No one else was currently outside, which was nice. Just him and nature.

Copia had avoided Primo’s garden for now. It would’ve hurt more with all the childhood memories he had of spending time with him gardening. But he knew it hadn’t been tended to since his death. He could only imagine how mad Primo would be if he knew his garden was being neglected. Once he could get his courage up, he’d visit and start caring for the lonely plants. It was the least he could do to honor Primo. He owed it to him.

“Hi,”

Copia turned his head at the sound of Silas’ voice, smiling at seeing the man walking towards him. “Oh, hello…. what brings you here?”

“I’m on break too and I, um, wanted to try to find you… see if you wanted to hang out?” He shrugged and glanced away for a second.

“You were thinking of me?” Copia thought, looking down at his shoes.

He looked back up at him. “Sure. I would like that.”

Silas smiled and sat down on the bench next to him, remembering to keep a respectful distance to be polite. He didn’t want to impose, and he wasn’t sure how close of friends they were yet.

“I see why you came out here. It’s nice.” He remarked, looking around at the scenery. He peered up at one of the trees when he heard a bird chirping.

“Yeah, sometimes I just need a break from being in the Ministry…” Copia sighed. “Nature can be calming.”

Silas looked at him, trying to hide his worry. “Yeah, I understand.”

They sat in silence for a moment, mostly listening to the birds and watching the leaves on trees sway slightly in the breeze.

“So, I know that it’s usually me giving out the song recs, but maybe you have one for me this time?” He asked, fidgeting with a loose string on his sweater.

Copia tilted his head when he looked at him, trying to think. He hadn’t listened to any music since that terrible day. There was some sort of mental block preventing him from listening. He just couldn’t.

“Ah… no, sorry. But actually, I need to write some music soon… y’know, for the project.” He frowned, fidgeting with his hands.

He certainly wasn’t in the mood to be writing anything, but he knew that Sister Imperator would be breathing down his neck if he didn’t try soon.

“It’s alright. But since you don’t have any songs to recommend, maybe you could tell me more about the Ministry’s project?” Silas prompted.

“Oh, really? I didn’t think you’d be interested.” He tried hiding the surprise in his voice.

He hummed and shrugged. “Well, it’s more like general curiosity. I’ve worked here for so long, but I don’t know much about the band.”

In actuality, Silas tried to think of a slight distraction for Copia. Maybe talking about something would help cheer him up. He knew he had been upset about the Papas’ absence, but with how depressed he’d been acting, there had to be more to it. Or that was what he’d theorized.

“Okay, then… let me gather my thoughts.” Copia furrowed his brows.

Silas refrained from chuckling at his focused expression. “Maybe we could walk and talk? It might help with thinking.”

“You know… that’s actually a good idea. But let’s just stay around here… I don’t want to go near the gardens,” he murmured.

Silas nodded, not pressing as to why he didn’t want to see the gardens. They both stood up and began to walk down one of the long, winding paths.

“So, what do you want to know?” Copia looked at him.

“I guess I’m just curious how a church started a metal band…? Or is it rock? Both?” Silas gestured vaguely. “I understand it’s not your average church, far from it, but still.”

Copia chuckled. “Depends on how you look at it. Many outsiders debate Ghost’s genre, but it’s mainly both. Honestly, we’re not too rigid with genre rules.”

“You probably just make what you think sounds good,” Silas commented.

“I mean… yeah? But to answer your first question, Sister Imperator decided that spreading the Ministry message through a band would be greatly successful, hence Ghost. She and Papa Nihil started it.” He explained.

“Wait, you’re telling me that Sister and Papa Nihil used to sing together?” Silas’ eyes widened. His tone was in disbelief.

Copia couldn’t help but laugh, eventually quieting down to some chuckles. “No, no, she didn’t do any of the singing or songs. She’s more like a manager…”

“Oh… sorry for the stupid question.” Silas fiddled with his hands.

“No, it’s alright. I probably didn’t explain it well. She and him had met back during the sixties-ish and she had convinced him to join… eh, something like that.” He waved his hand and shrugged slightly.

“Still odd for a church, though I guess Sister is odd herself. I don’t mean that in a negative way, of course, she’s usually okay for a boss,” Silas stammered, not wanting to get in trouble.

Copia couldn’t help but think about the blood on Sister’s hands. He kept silent for a second before remembering Silas’ concerns. He looked at him and tried giving him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I know what you meant.”

Silas nodded.

“I suppose now you’re next in line to lead Ghost? That’s what everyone’s been saying…” He changed the subject.

“Yes, soon it’ll be me.” Copia nodded, secretly thankful that he had stopped mentioning Sister. “I’ll have to start summoning my own Ghouls and write songs.” He kicked a stray pebble.

“The Ghouls help perform the songs, right?”

Copia nodded slowly, trying to figure out what Silas knew and what he didn’t. Apparently, he knew enough to know about who the Ghouls were. However, being in the position of a janitor, it probably wasn’t too difficult to figure out. He had access to the majority, if not all, the rooms in the Ministry, including where the Ghouls tended to hang out.

“How did you know that?” He gave him a confused look.

“Well, I’m not entirely clueless. It’s obvious that they’re not human… and I know the Ministry has them around for doing other tasks other than band stuff.” Silas explained.

“And you’re not… shocked?”

He pressed his lips into a fine line, almost conflicted. “I’ve had time to get used to it… I mean, I always knew there was supernatural stuff going on here. That’s the whole point.”

“Ah… so you follow the Ministry?” Copia asked.

“Just because I know what happens here doesn’t mean I worship or follow, no offense. It’s not my thing…”

“None taken. You have to do what feels right for you,” he replied.

Silas nodded. “I guess it’s easier to have the Ghouls perform than have people audition?” He tilted his head, changing the topic slightly.

“They have a natural… or I suppose, supernatural talent for it. They’ve been helping the Ministry for as long as the Ministry has been around.”

“And how long has it been around?”

Copia paused and slowed his pace, stumped by the question. “Ah, well, I honestly don’t know… a long time, even before Sister Imperator.”

That made sense. If other religions had been around for hundreds of years, why not this one?

“I have another question.”

“Go ahead.” Copia glanced at him.

“We’re at the Sweden location of the Ministry, yet everyone here speaks English, and you and the Papas have Italian accents… I guess I’m a little confused about the language situation?” Silas chuckled nervously.

He had to speak English for his job but didn’t mind too much. In a way, it reminded him of his childhood back in the U.S.

“Sister Imperator only speaks English. She knows bits and pieces in other languages, but not enough. That’s why she runs the ministries like this,” Copia explained. “The Papas and I grew up in Italy at that ministry location before being transferred here a while ago.” His chest still ached from mentioning them, but he’d mostly gotten used to it.

“She prefers when people speak to her in English, but that didn’t stop everyone else from speaking to each other in their native tongue. I remember she used to hate it when we were kids and we’d speak in Italian behind her back.” He chuckled.

“Oh, I can imagine.” Silas grinned. “I remember being a kid and speaking Swedish and the two reactions I’d get were either the adults around me were amazed that a Texas kid knew Swedish, or that it was weird and that I should stick to English…”

Copia gave him a curious glance, raising his eyebrow.

“Texan mother, Swedish father.” Silas picked up on his curiosity, casually answering his unspoken question.

He silently mouthed ‘ah’ and nodded, focusing back on the walk.

“You know Swedish, right? I just meant you’ve been here for… a while now,” Silas asked. “No judgment if you don’t,” he quickly added.

“I’m not fluent, but I’m working on it…” Copia smiled sheepishly, glancing at some nearby flowers. “Um…” He frowned as he thought, trying to think of something to say. “Jag tycker om pratar med du… sorry if that’s wrong.”

Silas smiled. “No, I think you’re getting there. You probably just need some more practice to feel more confident at speaking it.”

“True that,” Copia said.

“I need more confidence in general…” He thought.

“At least we’re probably in the same boat of not knowing each other’s native language well… wait, I guess half native language for you?” He muttered under his breath near the end.

“Yeah, you’ve got me there. I don’t know any Italian…” Silas winced slightly. “You’re already one step ahead of me since you know three, well, two and a quarter-ish of languages.”

“If you’re ever curious about learning, just ask.” Copia smiled.

“Sure.” He returned it. “Same goes for Swedish.”

Silas glanced down at his watch, frowning lightly. “Okay, I really should get back to cleaning… and your break is probably almost over as well.”

Copia sighed. As nice as it was to spend time outside with Silas, he knew they both needed to head back inside and work.

“Yes, you’re right… I enjoyed our talk. Thanks for spending time with me…” He clasped his hands together.

“Course, it’s nice having someone to talk to. Talk next break?”

Copia nodded, leaving Silas to head off back to his office, but not before he called his name.

Silas turned around.

“See you later!” Copia waved shortly.

He did the same and smiled before turning and heading back.

Once he was gone, Copia lowered his hand and started walking back. His step felt lighter than it had when he originally came out there. This friendship was turning out good and definitely was a wonderful distraction from the rest of his life.

---

'Jag tycker om pratar med du' = I like talking with you (basically)

[zelreedsandwrites]

I promised some chapter notes so here we go! (Long post incoming but if you’re reading this you probably read my fic and expect long-windedness by now)

“And why are you still torn up about it? What did you tell her?” He tilted her chin up and to the side again— she let them expose her neck and the scars there with implicit trust— and made a disbelieving sound somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle as their eyes flitted downward a moment. Laudna’s confused frown was only answered with a shrug and a crooked grin as Ashton dropped their hand.

Yeah no 100%, Ashton was looking for hickeys, they see right through Imogen trying to pretend she’s not super super horny for the whole creature of the night thing Laudna has going on. (Which is so much more comfortable to write from Laud’s perspective tbh.) They’re still just absolutely baffled how she managed to tell Laudna she loves her without actually telling Laudna she loves her. Whether it ends up in the fic or not, one day Ashton will give the the most shit for this.

A further note on my own general headcanon is that my version of Laudna and Ashton are ace, or far along on the ace spectrum, with Ashton being aroace. Buuuuuuut I also have my headcanon that after Laud is resurrected, and believe me I have a vision for that in the flavor of each of my fics, she starts Feeling Things and gets to explore that with Imogen. Smutty chaos fun times ensue. But I don’t have any plans right now to venture back into writing smut. So, sure, there may be some (attempts at writing) kisses in the future for SMF, but right now Laudna’s attraction is very much romantic and aesthetic, rather than sexual. Thanks for coming to my CRED talk

More things!

I still need to look up Eshteross’ name whenever I write it to make sure it’s spelled consistently

The little “has she tried?” when Laudna is reflecting on sleep is an homage to her inability to believe herself. Sure she tried to sleep, and she did for a while, but did she really?

This is at least the second time these two have broken into a kitchen to bake something in the middle of the night. Has Ashton snuck into Zhudanna’s? Have they talked about Pretty in his own kitchen? Who knows!

It didn’t occur to me until rewriting the whole “if I were an even shittier person” scene over a few times that Delilah’s motive for all the shit she’s done, at least in my understanding of it, has been her love for Silas (Sylas?) so it clicked that shit that’s definitely something she would be terrified of, since she’s not an idiot and recognizes Imogen could be trouble. And a la Ballad of Sehanine, it’s definitely something Delilah cracked down on in her ‘workshopping’ talks

Ashton, frustrated: “Can we please just tell them? Look at them!! They’re just getting worse!!!!” FCG: “Let them do things in their own time or Bad Things will happen” Ashton, at the end of their rope with these dumbass lesbians: “No, I don’t think I will.” *proceeds to cause a panic attack and Imogen will definitely be catching on to Laudna’s fresh scratches* “fuk”

Laudna saying “I don’t want to go” is one of the few (I think. I’m not rereading 30K words right now but I’m assuming cuz I’m still the one writing her) blatant statements she makes about her own wants, and I think definitely the first time she’s given indication that she could want something more than Imogen, or even in conflict to Imogen’s wants.

Alright I think that’s it for now, next chapter is in the works so I’ll get back to doing that! Have a good one y’all!

[lifeonthemurdersim]

All Roads Lead To Here- Chapter 5: On The Balcony AND Chapter 6: The Light Fandom/Universe: Siren From Hell Characters/Pairing: Multiple AO3 Link(full tags, warnings etc here) Word count: 11,198 words(?!) and 3,449 words respectively. This turned into a little Halloween double feature so I strongly recommending reading on AO3 where I have split it into two parts, but both are from today's prompts! Synopsis: The worst that could happen, happened. Fortunately there's one person involved that the universe has a little deal with... Author's Note: LAST GoreKinktober piece, oh my god! I've had so much fun with it. While I'm not sure I'd do this again, I'm really hoping I'll continue to write more regularly! Anyway, Siren From Hell is the work of @cptsadist and so are ummm... featured- Jet, Trance, Egon, Seiren, Wraith, Bogy, Silas, and mentioned- Hauer, Ralph, Johann, Corbin and Armen. More about Gorekinktober on my pinned post! Kinktober prompt(s) used: Balcony (it was a free day and I wanted to mirror the other ending) Goretober prompt used: Corpse

A corpse, but one of living breathing flesh and blood.

An abomination, forced to undergo a multitude of deaths without ever actually dying.

A dead enby walking.

No-one could really say what Hope was. With all the non-humans that existed in this world, how did one class someone who seemed fully human, yet unable to die, not through immortality or physical revival, but with time and death seeming to bend around them, throwing them back to try again, and again, and again.

When had it even started? It took many years for Hope to realise that the suicide attempt they had made when they were 20, those dreams they had of white light and grey water and serenity, might in fact have been the first time they died. Then again, the loops themselves, they hadn't started until many months later, when they were in college, and happened upon what turned out to be a very wrong choice of bar.

How they had come to even exist was very much up for debate. Millions of people travelled smoothly from life to death as nature intended. A few touched clinical death for a moment, kissed it momentarily before being dragged back. Hope, however, was in a constant dance with death. A cycle. A loop.

Why Hope? Maybe because she already had some things in common with death. Melancholy, quiet, strong-willed. Maybe it was some kind of cruel game or joke in the eyes of a creator Hope still didn't think she believed in. "Oh, you wanted to die one time? Well haha, now you can't." Maybe it was random luck, or lack thereof depending how you looked at it, and they were just a glitch in the universe.

Yes, no-one knew the what, when, how or why of Ebony Hope Chambers.

But she knew one thing.

She knew who she was.

She was the person who came back, over and over and over again. She was the person who got to stare right into the most horrific outcome, the worst possible ending imaginable... and say Fuck. That. Shit.

They were Hope. The only hope.

See, it wasn't just Jet who'd learned something from Theo. She remembered going back to his apartment after her failed attempt to help, only to find Theo gone, Jet gone, and a ton of blood all over the bed, the floor, the cupboard. The loop had ended, without them there, while they'd still been mulling over whether they even wanted to go back.

With the new revelation that Theo had died, presumably while they were still in the limbo between life and death, Hope knew how key it was that other people in the loop could only come back if they died before her. Not only that, but killing their captor ended the loop.

All this came together in the realisation that they could not let Trance die before them. Trance was her kidnapper, the keystone at the centre of this loop. If she let Trance die, then everyone else who'd died, every single one of those people, friends and foe alike, they could never come back. Hell, even if she and Trance both lived, that would probably end the loop.

So she had to die first. It was hell. Thank God Trance took pity on her and helped. Once they hit the river, they didn't hesitate, they ran. Right into the bright white light that would lead them back to life. They had to start the loop before Trance died or they might well be coming back the sole survivor. Luckily the same way they were starting to be able to cling to the river a little longer when they wanted to, they were starting to get the hang of leaving it faster, too.

Back to the bar. Do everything the same. Everything. It all started with a shy glance and then snapping abruptly back to the bar. Talk to Trance. Let him drug her. Get kidnapped. Trapped in the basement. No fucking sleep. God, physically it might only have been 24 hours again, but mentally it felt like forever. But they had to hold on. Bide their time. Spend every moment alone planning. Get into that damn shower.

Admittedly, they could just not attempt to get themself off in the shower, especially as this time around they knew they weren't going to get to finish. But no, that was not the point of deviation. They weren't going to risk that. They had to wait, trying not to get themselves too worked up this time. Wait until...

"Hey. Uh... don't be scared!" Jet called as the bathroom door closed with a soft click.

They hadn't recognised his voice as anything other than "not Trance's" the first time. It had been too long since their first and only other meeting. But now it was less than a day in their memory. They obviously knew it was him. They didn't check or wait. They poked their head straight out this time. "Jet?" they asked, genuinely so relieved that they didn't even have to feign sounding surprised.

"Hope!" he replied so quick it was practically interrupting, but they didn't mind one bit. "You're alive!"

"You're alive..." they replied much more softly than the first time, fixing him with an affectionate smile. Seeing him here only strengthened their resolve. They couldn't watch Trance plunging that knife into his back again. "Look, we can talk about all the how and why later, just..." they said quickly, before it could get into the same discussion of Theo. They were still wondering how Jet even remembered them after their death, but that could wait, too. They grabbed a towel and wrapped it around themselves so they wouldn't soak him as much, then ran up to him and threw their arms around his neck, holding him close. Jet seemed surprised but pleased, embracing them back softly.

"Wow, you're really happy to see me." he commented in pleasant surprise. They nodded, their cheek brushing against his. "Guess I'm not... used to that..." he admitted, drawing back and smiling at them with a slight blush across his pale skin. Fucking hell he was beautiful, they wanted more than anything to kiss him again. But they could get carried away, they could waste valuable seconds, he could ask them to explain it this time, way too much could happen and it just wasn't worth the risk.

The fight that had started right before they kissed the first time could be heard in the distance. They had roughly the amount of time it had taken from then to Hope cumming to get out of the house before Trance realised what they were doing. Which even she would have to admit was not very long.

"Jet, we need to get the hell out of here." they explained, stepping out of the hug and grabbing their clothes. Jet's look of disappointment at them letting go would have damn near broken their heart had it not quickly been replaced by one of confusion at their words.

"What... why... to where?" he asked, then immediately seemed to get distracted as they turned away from him, pulling up the towel and drying their hair roughly before they let it fall to the floor. "You're... you're naked." he pointed out.

"You walked in on me showering." they pointed out in a teasing tone, turning to eye him up over their shoulder. He was blushing much harder, seemingly torn between staring or looking away which only led to him fidgeting adorably. They bit their lip and smirked before very deliberately bending down to get their clothes. Given the things she'd done with Jet the last loop around, she didn't feel shy to be flirty around him anymore. Maybe they had time to... no, they mustn't be tempted. This time they grabbed their bra so it wouldn't hurt so damn much to run, fastening it on first.

"OK but... but you realise even though you're turned around I can see... a lot of you, right?" he asked in an oddly strained voice.

"I know." they responded as they pulled on their boxers, turning around to face him, hand on hip. "Don't worry, you can see the rest later." they deliberately misinterpreted with a wink, pulling on their slightly torn up cropped shirt, pantyhose and shorts, while Jet looked like he'd internally blue screen of deathed.

"I... I don't..." he replied. "Sorry, I'm just... where are we going, exactly?" The way he was stuttering, it was like they'd swapped places entirely. It was pretty damn adorable. Once their boots were on, they grabbed their leather jacket too seeing as they'd hopefully be going outside and their sweater was god knows where after Trance had spilt that drink on it. Their phone and wallet were confiscated from their pockets though; they'd checked that before they even got in the shower.

"We're gonna get the hell out of here and find our friends." they explained. She had no idea how they even found them, but all they knew is they would be here. "Phi and Si and... Bogy, right? Then we're gonna come back for Azazel before he sets the whole damn house on fire."

"Well Bogy's... a little more than a friend..." Jet replied with a little giggle. "But... sure!" Hope's heart sank. That flirty confidence drained back out of them. They were... fuck... they'd seemed happy to see each other of course, but so had she been to see Azazel, Phi, Silas.

She'd... said something about her and Jet taking care of Hope though. Fuck. Of course. Of course they were a thing. The same girl Azazel liked too, that was... fucking typical. But... oh god. They'd done... so much; in the bathroom, in the closet... and she'd started it. OK... fuck it, they were the only one it had actually happened for; they could deal with the hurt later, they could deal with the guilt later, they could deal with Jet was possibly a cheating bastard later, right now, she still needed to get the two of them and Azazel out safe.

"Right..." they muttered a little sullenly. "F-fine." They looked at him seriously. "Jet, we need to get out of here because Trance kidnapped me, and if we don't get the hell out of here, he may well kill us."

"Trance?" he responded incredulously. "Trance is my friend, he would... would never do something like that..." Serious deja vu already. The first time he'd taken a reasonable amount of convincing, but this time, they already knew what would eventually win him over. Apparently he knew about Egon due to some of the videos he'd made him watch, but Trance, not so much.

"OK Jet, same logic as Theo, OK?" she explained quickly. "I know you think Trance is a good guy... and in some ways he is." they admitted. "But if you're right, and Trance is all cool with this, we're just two friends going for a walk, right?" Jet seemed to think it through briefly, but pretty much had to concede to it.

"Well... yeah, that seems fine." he agreed. "And... if you're right, we'll be getting away." That reciprocation, that willingness to believe them this time, even if it was just a little, meant a lot to Hope. They offered him the smallest smile and nod.

"OK, let's go while Trance and Wraith are still arguing." they said, unlocking the door and peering around into the hallway. No one was there, so they grabbed Jet's hand and led him out quickly.

"OK, uh... sure!" he replied in a quieter than usual but still enthusiastic tone, giving her hand a little squeeze that made Hope glance down uncertainly.

They really were back to square one. Trying to convince Jet a murderer was, in fact, a murderer. Ending up holding hands with him while he had some form of partner. Trying to make sure no-one died in the process. Only this time it was a hell of a lot more painful on every account.

Fortunately Trance and Wraith were still arguing. If it had taken them that long to notice that she and Jet were even in the bathroom together before, they had time to get some distance, and to get to their friends. Hope didn't know this house well, only having been this way once with Trance. "How do we get out?" she hissed to Jet.

"Stairs are this way." he explained in a similarly hushed tone, taking their hand and leading them the right way. "Then I usually go in and out the back door. You can wiggle any key in the lock and it opens." Hope raised their eyebrows at him.

"Jet, please don't tell me you've been stalking Egon." they replied.

"It's not stalking!" he insisted. "He's happy to see me! Usually..." Hope raised a brow at him and he gave an awkward smile back. "I just don't have to wait for someone to let me in this way."

"OK, I believe you." they replied through a quiet chuckle, deciding to reserve the Theo comparison jokes for when they were in a little less danger. "Could you take me that way, please?"

"I'll take you any way you want." he flirted with a little grin over at them, and they felt themself blushing hard.

Once again, they'd started it, so they couldn't even tell him off for it, just spluttering out a quiet "Th-thanks..." as he giggled, gave their hand another squeeze and led them out that way. It was a starry night, way more visible from out here, a little chilly though. Jet shivered, reaching his other hand across to their arm instinctively to huddle closer. "Forgot how cold it was..." he complained, clearly thinking nothing of the additional proximity. All these things that should be sweet were making them feel all the worse thinking about Bogy. They looked at the jacket across their arm. They could do with it themself, but probably not as badly.

"H-here..." they offered, pulling away and passing the jacket to Jet, giving themself some breathing room in the process.

"Oh!" Jet replied, as they followed the path around the house to get back to the front. "Are you sure?" he asked, but even as he did he was pulling it over his shoulders to warm up. "Aren't you cold?"

"I mean... a little, but not as cold as you I don't think." they pointed out.

"It's nice! Really warm." he noted, slipping his arms into the sleeves.

"Yeah, I get cold pretty easily." they explained, wrapping their arms around their bare waist, already regretting it a little as their damp hair started to chill quickly. "It doesn't zip up on me anymore though..."

"Well... at least if you need it back, I'll keep it warm for you!" Jet pointed out. Even that gave them weird little pangs, they smiled and tried to cover up that there were already goosebumps on their arms. "Ooh, I have an idea actually!" he added.

"Is it a good idea, though?" they teased lightly as they tried not to shiver themself. They both reached the front of the house where a few cars were parked; Trance's hummer that she and Azazel had been maneuvered into before they passed out, a large grey pickup truck, and a slightly battered little black car on the end.

"Hey!" Jet replied, nudging her arm with his but still laughing a little. To their surprise he pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the smallest car, opening up the trunk and looking for something.

"You have a car?" Hope asked with interest.

"What, do I not seem like I would have a car?" Jet asked. He apparently didn't find what he was looking for as he moved around and began looking in the back, the sound of cans clattering a little.

"I don't know." they replied, shrugging slightly, folding their arms tighter around themself. "I... can't actually drive..." they admitted. "So I guess I forget most people can."

"Did you want me to drive us now?" he asked. He apparently gave up searching the back for what he was looking for too, shutting the door. "Oh..." he chuckled as he apparently glanced something through the door to the passenger side. He opened that door and pulled out a black hoodie, shutting the door again and passing it to Hope. "Here. It's not as warm but like... you said you're not as cold, so..." Hope couldn't help but smile a little despite the unease his sweet actions kept giving them.

"Can't argue with that logic." they replied, slipping it on. It was presumably baggy on Jet since they were able to zip it up, wrapping the cuffs around their hands before slipping them into the pockets. It smelled of him. They needed their head checked if the scent of 3-in-1 and Axe and possibly a hint of spilled energy drink was suddenly that appealing. "Thanks..." they responded with an appreciative smile.

"You look so cute..." he commented with a little smile back. Hope found their face heating right up again.

"Jet... c'mon..." they complained quietly, still struggling to fully tell him off. It was the kind of attention they absolutely craved, but still they knew it wasn't right. Well, maybe it was? "Cute" was annoyingly ambiguous like that. It was probably totally fine. Unless it wasn't.

"Oh I'm... I'm sorry...?" he replied, quickly changing the subject before she could think how to think of the words to reaasure him. "So uh, we walking or...?"

"Oh!" they replied, looking to the car and realising she'd never answered his question. "Oh, yeah, uh..." It would get them further from the house faster, but that wasn't really the goal right now. Plus if it was noisy when it started up, it could alert the others to their presence pretty damn quickly. "I think we'd better walk... just show me which way you usually drive in because I bet the others came that way. Uh... are coming that way."

"Okay!" Jet agreed happily as he locked up the car, still fixing them with that soft smile. They didn't really know what that look meant, only that it was another thing they liked but shouldn't. Anyone else would actually confront the situation, but Hope wasn't anyone else. They got awkward when it came to speaking out about things like this. So instead they followed silently by Jet's side as he walked with them, starting down a long road that led through some woods. "So, how do you know our friends are coming?" he asked.

"Oh, uh..." Hope began. "Well I could pretend I'm psychic..." they joked. "But it's... actually way more complicated." She still didn't know why they were even coming. "Did you speak to Bogy at all today?" they asked.

"Oh, yeah, I texted her before I found you!" Jet explained, pulling his phone out. "Shit, I have a couple missed calls from her." he realised before passing it over. She read through the text, ignoring the additional stomach churning from the little kissing face, giving the phone back and shoving her hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie.

"OK, she must have got into contact with mine and Azazel's friends when you mentioned him..." they said. "How long does it take to get out here from town?"

"Usually about 30, 40 minutes." he answered. He looked at his phone, checking the message again and then the time from the looks of it. "Do your friends live in the center?"

"Yeah." they answered. "Actually I don't know for sure about Silas..." they admitted. "W-we don't speak much... but Phi has a little apartment and they're usually together there." That place was up on the 18th floor, beautiful views of the city. Phi was one of their closest friends but damn... they had a lot that Hope was jealous of.

"I don't think they'll be much longer, then." Jet suggested. "Do you want me to call Bogy?"

"Uh, yeah." Hope agreed, genuinely not able to tell how long it had taken in the other universe given that they didn't have their phone. "Just see where they are." She glanced back at the house as they started down the side of the road together, and spotted a white-haired figure on one of the balconies. Not the little end one, but a larger one leading off one of the bedrooms. "Oh shit... I think that's Trance..." she murmured nervously. Jet glanced back too.

"I'm guessing that's... not so good?" he asked, speeding up a little as they both turned back to the road, starting up a call at the same time.

"I-I'm not sure." they replied. "If he alerts Egon and he and Leilana get into a fight over Azazel that... won't end well." they tried to summarise.

"Do you want to go back?" he asked.

"I... don't know." they admitted, looking between the house, where Trance now appeared to be heading in, and the road ahead of them. They thought they saw lights way off in the distance. "Uhhhhh... OK, let's go a little faster." they suggested, speeding up to the quickest pace they could walk in the direction of the light.

"She's not answering her phone..." Jet replied, looking slightly worried.

"I think we're OK." Hope replied, seeing the little speck of light grow closer and larger. As it grew nearer it was clear they were two headlights. They found themselves running a little, Jet speeding up too to keep up. It was always a little eerie to see Wasei's car hoving into view. Phi had acquired it after his death. It was reminding them, though, that they had very little in the way of a plan here and they really needed to have one within the next five minutes. "Could you put your torch on, get their attention?" they asked Jet.

"Yeah, of course!" he replied, shining it in the direction of the road but not head on towards the car. As they got closer, they could see a glimpse of green hair that indicated it was Bogy driving. When she spotted Jet and Hope running in her direction though, she stopped abruptly and pulled over, rolling down the window. Jet hopped over to her with a smile, leaning into the car.

"Can you answer your damn phone next time?" she asked him. "You had me worried."

"Sorry." Jet replied with a sheepish giggle. "You know you didn't either."

"I was driving." Bogy pointed out. "These two are practically glued to each other so I thought I'd help them out. Oh, Jet, this is Phi and Silas, and guys this is Jet." she added as they hopped out of the back.

"Hey!" Jet greeted them.

"Hi." Silas said quietly.

"Hey!" Phi replied more emphatically before the two of them walked quickly over to Hope, Phi pulling them in for a hug. Hope hugged them back, leaning their head on their friend's shoulder for a moment. It had been a long fucking day. "Are you OK?" they asked, drawing back and looking them over. "Where's Azazel?"

"Uh, yeah, just a little cut up." they explained. They gave Silas a slight wave to which he waved back. "He's still in the house as far as we know. We need to go back and get him, I just thought it would be easier with all of us together."

"Do you want me to drive us all?" Bogy asked. Hope thought for a moment, still trying to fit all the pieces together though it was making their head spin.

"Trance is already headed this way, we think." they explained. "I feel like if we walk, it'll be less threatening."

"Why would you want to be less threatening?" Phi asked, even as Bogy did as advised, letting Jet back off again before swinging the car in to the side of the road, which would leave it fairly obscured should they have to come back here.

"Because..." Because they'd seen it one way, and they didn't want to see all that again. The only way they could think of to keep everyone alive was to try and de-escalate the whole situation. "Look, he's not all bad." they tried to reason. Phi shook their head a little disapprovingly, taking Silas's hand and beginning to lead the way towards the house. Bogy followed, Jet and Hope falling in either side of her.

"This is Hope, by the way Bogy!" Jet said excitedly, reaching out behind her back to squeeze lightly at Hope's arm before drawing back again. "They're alive!"

"Oh..." There was a look of recollection in her amber eyes at his words, glancing over at Hope. "Oh shit, so... let me get this straight... thier Hope-" She gestured towards Phi and Silas. "Is also your Hope? Like from..." She looked back to Jet.

"Yeah!" he replied. Hope looked away awkwardly at being called "his", a blush creeping across her cheeks as much as she tried to hold back. They hoped it was dark enough to hide that.

"Damn, I guess I should thank you, hun." Bogy said, reaching out and giving them a pat on their shoulder even as they avoided her gaze. "You're half the reason Jet agreed to escape that creepy-ass doctor with me."

"Oh!" they replied. "Well I'm... uh... really glad!" they managed to stutter. Despite their awkwardness they were able to look over and fix Bogy with a slight smile. She really was lovely. Although god damn, that made them feel like a terrible person. I've had your boyfriend's cock in my mouth, by the way hun. It didn't happen. It didn't happen. "Uh... you guys are really cute together!" they blurted out. Bogy glanced at them again curiously.

"Oh we're not together." Bogy corrected with a shrug. "Well, I mean... we do screw around sometimes, but we're just friends." Hope felt a sudden sense of relief from the guilt, while Bogy's amber eyes flicked to Jet. "Wait, Jet... what the hell did you tell them?"

"I mean... pretty much that!" he insisted with a shrug. "I guess I didn't exactly... specify..."

Bogy shook her head and smiled over at Hope. "You know how it is, it's on 'til he finds some guy who's most likely gonna kill him and then he disappears again." she teased Jet.

"H-hey!" Jet complained, though he didn't deny it. Hope smiled along, but it only confirmed a lot of those little jealous thoughts she'd had regarding Theo.

"We know how it is actually." Phi joked, looking back at Hope. Silas glanced back at them too. Hope frowned.

"It is... not my fault I got kidnapped again!" they insisted. "He..." they ran a hand through the back of their hair sheepishly. "...seemed so nice at the bar..." Jet peered around Bogy at them, raising his eyebrows with a little grin. "Look, judge me later, we've got shit to do." they grumbled.

"I didn't say anything!" he protested, laughing.

"No but..." they complained through a laugh back, then pouting a little. "You were... looking..."

"What, am I not allowed to look at you now?" Jet teased. "Because I remember a very different offer from the bathroom." That once again sent Hope blushing and not knowing what to say. Even though they'd misunderstood about Jet and Bogy, they couldn't reclaim the confidence they'd had when they'd said that now. Their brain was tied in too many knots.

"Does Trance have nice eyes?" Phi asks, glancing back at Bogy. "They lose their shit over pretty eyes."

"Oh, yeah, he totally does!" Jet replied. "Wait, do you... not know who he is?"

"Si has a poster on his wall." Phi said, nudging him playfully and smiling at him. "Just never thought to check out his eyes though when I have such a pretty boy rightthere, y'know?"

"Phi..." Silas replied, blushing but smiling right back.

"What? It's true!" Phi said with a chuckle, but then their tone shifted to a slightly more serious one. "Look, Hope, please just tell me we're not relying on your kidnapper having some secret heart of gold?"

"Well... not exactly." Hope assured. "I just... think it's fair to try and get him a replacement. Someone who deserves it." She stared at Phi. Phi glanced back at them and picked up on their expression.

"Wait... are you talking about Rahim?" they asked. They'd been talking about whether there was a way to get back at him for months now. The trouble was they didn't know what to do with him.

"Who's Rahim?" Jet asked.

"He killed our friend." Hope said quietly, looking down. Bogy picked up on the distress in her tone and reached a reassuring hand over to pat her shoulder. "We escaped him years ago, God knows why Wasei went back..."

"Oh... I knew someone with that name..." Jet comments. "Well... met him..."

"The way things are working out, Jet, it's probably the same person." Bogy pointed out.

"Rahim was a friend of my dad's." Phi added. "Even he sees how fucked up he is now. But this fucker's got a lawyer so good he got out on bail."

"For murder?" Bogy asked. "That can't be right.."

"We think he somehow got it classified as something else." Hope explained. They had to push forward with the plan though. "OK, I gotta ask this quick. Phi, are you still in touch with Johann?" She saw Silas fidget slightly.

"They are." he clarified quietly.

"Yes, we're still friends." they said pointedly to their partner, chuckling and pressing a kiss to his cheek that seemed to reassure him. "Why?"

"You said he revived that... Ralph guy... creature... whatever he is?" Hope checked.

"Ralph?" Jet asked. "Like... Hauer's Ralph?"

"Yeah, you know him?" Phi asked back.

"Uh... yeah... kinda..." Jet replied with an awkward smile, running a hand through the longer side of his hair. "I think he carried me back to Hauer's... and there was this other time I met him..." He nodded towards Trances house. "...here, actually."

"Jet knows everyone." Bogy told Phi with a laugh, then turned back to him. "Phi and their friend were captured by Hauer and Ralph too, we discussed it in the car." she explained to him.

"Oh, cool!" Jet replied. "I mean, not like... cool that you got kidnapped but like... small world, right?"

"Yeah, I guess..." Phi replied, not sounding quite so positive about it. The fact they'd had to completely relocate because of the experience indicated it was more traumatic than they let on. Still, at least moving into the same town as she, Was and Azazel had led them to meeting Silas. Hope saw him squeeze their hand reassuringly. There was probably a lot of interest to unpick with all the ways their paths had crossed in the past, but Hope was too focused on trying to pull her idea together. They stepped forward a little, walking at Phi's side.

"OK, so uh, Phi, what if you ask Johann to take Ralph, get Rahim, and bring him here?" they asked. "From what you've told me there's no way he won't be able to take him."

"I don't know, we talked about this before Hope..." Phi said reluctantly. "He's been through a lot and... some of it is my fault." They sighed. "He's sweet too, he really is."

"He is!" Jet agreed.

"OK, but I'm not talking him having to actually hurt Rahim this time." Hope explained. "We just need him to knock him out... tie him up... anything to get him here as soon as possible." There was a pause while Phi mulled it over.

"OK." they agreed. "I'll call Johann." They pulled their phone out of their pocket.

"Uh... there's one more thing..." Hope added, glancing up at the full moon above them. "Rahim has... a lot of wolves. Like... dozens, all trained to protect him." Phi suddenly pulled their phone back down, turning to Hope again.

"Forget it, I'm not sending Ralph and Johann to get ripped apart by wolves." they retracted.

"OK; but, but... what if they had some stronger wolves to protect them?" Hope suggested, glancing past Phi towards Silas. Their eyes met his. It was unusual for them to do that, kind of uncomfortable for Hope seeing as they used to have a thing for him that had only recently started to disappate. But they really needed him to pick up on what he was saying. They flicked thier eyes up to the moon and back to him.

"No..." Silas replied. "You... you want me to talk to Corbin?!"

"I'll "talk to" him again." Phi muttered slightly threateningly.

"Or one of the others!" Hope bargained. "I mean you go into that bookshop all the time, right?" They didn't like to have to persuade him into it, but it was their best shot right now. Silas still looked wary.

"Talk to Armen." Phi suggested, giving him a smile. "You're more comfortable with her, she can get in touch with one of the pack." Silas nodded at the compromise.

"O-OK." he agreed, pulling out his phone and beginning to text her. Phi began looking for Johann's number again. Hope looked ahead and could see Trance barely visible in the distance... surprisingly, alone. Well, apart from Seiren, presumably.

"Oh shit, he's on his way... OK, you two go get everything in place, I don't want him to feel like we're ganging up on him... but Phi, give Bogy your shotgun."

"Ganging up on your kidnapper?" they questioned again, but they did take the gun off their back and hand it to Bogy. "We'll keep an eye on you." They nudged Silas with them to the side of the road behind some trees so they could get everything in place.

"OK, Bogy... wait to the side too, don't shoot." Hope explained. "If he tries to run towards us though, feel free to aim at him." They really didn't want to do it, but they had to. "I'll take care of the rest."

"You're... really good under pressure." Jet noticed. They shrugged but gave him an appreciative smile. They guessed they hadn't really thought about it before. "Am I staying with you?"

"Yeah." they agreed. "He already knows we're out here together. Just get behind me if he goes on the attack."

"No... no, you stood up for me when it was Theo, I'm gonna stand up for you!" he said firmly.

"I stood up for you and I lived." they pointed out stubbornly.

"So did I!" Jet protested. "Well... mostly... you know I died for like a minute? I thought I saw you actually." he chattered on, even as Trance approached. Hope started to piece things together, even as she kept her eyes on the singer. "I mean it might not have been you, you were like... turned away..."

"White light, grey water?" they hissed quietly, starting to step slowly in Trance's direction, nudging Jet's arm to get him to do the same.

"Yeah!" he replied. That was why he remembered them, maybe? The hell if she knew how half of this shit worked. "Wait, were you really somewhere like that?"

"Uh... yeah... I'll have to tell you later." they whispered. The way things were going tonight, they certainly had a lot to talk about later. The thing was though, his reaction to them telling him the truth in the last turn of events was so trusting, believing and vaguely impressed that she actually felt confident to do that. The fact he'd apparently been there in death with her, even just for a moment, only solidified it.

"Hey." Trance said quietly as he approached, not waiting for them to reply. "Went for a little walk, huh?"

"Oh, yeah, we did!" Jet replied, nodding along. "You did ask me to keep Hope occupied!" he said, laughing nervously. This was the first Hope was hearing of this, but she guessed it made sense. "But we're... back now so... everything's cool, right?"

"Step away from them, Jet." Trance warned flatly. He studied them both for a second before apparently making a choice in favour of being upfront. "You both know what this is." Jet and Hope exchanged glances. They had no real idea if he was aware there were three others with them or not.

"Trance... look... I'm sorry!" Hope blurted out.

"No you're not." he muttered back.

"I... I am!" they protested, stepping closer to him as he looked her over with a distrustful expression. Before he could even form an assessment, however, they were running, tackling him to the ground, straddling him and pulling his own knife out of his pocket, holding the point to his neck. Hope swallowed. "...I'm really, really sorry." they said quietly, looking down at him with genuine pity. But they know that he'd do the same.

"Son of a bitch..." he growled, trying to fight back a little despite the fact it pushed the tip of the blade into his neck slightly. At first it seemed they were evenly matched enough that Hope could hold him off, but then his eyes began to glow and she knew he'd use Seiren to overpower her. "Bogy!" she called, and Bogy stepped deftly out from the shadows, aiming down at Trance. He stopped, letting out a frustrated groan.

"You realise if you kill me, Egon's probably just gonna shoot you all in the head." he pointed out. Sure enough, they could see Egon heading out of the house, Azazel by his side with the gun pointed at him just as before. Hope knew they couldn't hesitate. "I know." they replied. "I don't want to kill you. N-not if I don't have to." Yes, admittedly, if that ended up being the only way out, she could probably find a way to do it. Lure him out more quickly, pull the same shit, but stab him before Egon could even find them, get away in Jet's car...

They were smart enough to plan it. They had the motive, and if they were honest, they didn't think they'd struggle that much going ahead with it. They had unlimited chances to get it right, too. But if they could get everyone out alive, then they would actually be happy with their decision.

Because despite Phi's teasing, Hope wasn't naive. Hope didn't trust most people; they were confusing, worrying, out for themselves, and yet they still chose to have faith in them to do right. Hope knew this world was harsh and shitty and unforgiving, and they didn't want to be a part of that. They wanted always to respond with softness and honesty and love.

So while it may not really look like it, them doing what they were doing right now was all in the name of, hopefully, making sure no-one else had to die. "C'mon." they said, getting up off of Trance but still holding the knife against his neck. They offered him their other hand.

"Are you serious right now?" he asked, shaking his head as he looked up at her. "You're fucking crazy." It wasn't even said like an insult, or a rejection of the offer. More like an observation.

"Just get the hell up." Bogy said in support of Hope, gun still aimed at his head. Trance flicked his eyes to her and tutted, then stared at Hope and let them help him to his feet. They put a hand under his arm and across his chest, thinking how weird it was that they'd previously imagined holding him in an entirely different way to this. They replaced the knife at his neck, across it this time; much like when he'd threatened her. Also how he inevitably mercy killed her.

"The fuck's going on here?" Egon asked as he approached, looking unsure whether to keep the gun on Azazel or train it towards Hope.

"H-hey... Egon!" Jet greeted with a little wave. Egon ignored him.

"Bogy..." Azazel said happily upon seeing her, despite his current predicament.

"Hey Azazel." she said with a smile back.

"You just had to bring the angel, huh?" Trance asked Egon in a critical tone. Egon stared right back, very little expression crossing his face.

"Yes, I brought the angel." he responded a little gruffly. "What, I have to leave my fucking victim just so we can get yours?"

"I feel like you'd have more of a point if "my victim" didn't have a knife to my throat." Trance pointed out. Hope gritted their teeth and exhaled hard against his shoulder. They weren't going to be the fucking victim here anymore. No way.

"OK, Egon..." Jet pointed out, stepping forward. "Listen... these guys just want to get their friend back, and then... you can have Trance back and everyone can just chill, right?!"

"Shut up, Jet." Egon replied with a look of mild annoyance.

"Hey, leave him alone!" Bogy defended him. Egon scowled from her back to him.

"It's... fine Bogy..." Jet responded though he definitely looked a little put out. Hope gave him a sympathetic look.

"Whose side are you even on here, Jet?" Egon asked the goth. There was a lot of... movement in the trees to the side of them. Shadows shifting, leaves rustling in a wind that hadn't been there before.

"Look, he's right... I-I've got your friend, you've got mine." they said to Egon, a little nervous due to their lack of prior interaction, and just the fact he seemed pretty intimidating in general. "I just want everyone safe..."

"Yeah, I feel real safe right now..." Trance muttered. There was a shriek from the trees to the side of them.

"Well isn't this interesting..." Wraith commented, walking out leading Phi with a hand around their throat, triggering another momeny of deja vu for Hope, this one far more worrying.

"L-leave them alone!" Silas yelled, running after them, looking like he might actually try to lunge at Wraith.

"I think not, baby bat." Leilana said, appearing behind him, not even touching him, just holding up a hand and keeping him in place. She watched him. "Hmm... a little weaker but it definitely still works on vampires."

"What the hell are you doing?" Egon asked Wraith, looking from the demon to the three strangers. "Who the fuck are all these people?"

"You've all got hostages, I wanted to join in the fun." he replied with a shrug.

"Additional leverage to make sure I get my way." Leilana replied, keeping Silas frozen in place.

"Uh... yeah... also that." Wraith added.

"Let us the fuck go!" Phi complained. They went for one of the stakes at their belt, but Wraith grabbed their wrist, considerably stronger than them, and wrapped his hand around theirs.

"Phi, please, be careful..." Hope begged given how their interaction with Wraith had gone before.

"You think it'd hurt more or less to stab a human in the heart with one of these?" he asked no-one in

particular, pointing the stake at Phi's chest. Bogy spun around and swung the shotgun towards him. "Hey, calm the fuck down, I'm just asking a question." They looked at each other for a moment.

"Why don't I have them stab this one with it?" Leilana suggested. "They seem to have an emotional bond." Wraith snapped out of his confused look to turn back to her with a grin.

"Ohhhoho nice, but if you can control vampires, why not have him bite 'em?" Wraith suggested with a smirk.

"Oh I like that, that seems like it would he painful for them both!" Leilana replied gleefully. "Perhaps later." She paused. "Now, let me see..." she mused, looking to Egon. "These aren't yours because you didn't know them."

"Who are you?" Egon complained.

"That's Leilana!" Jet told him helpfully. Fortunately that also clued Hope in; they knew from their conversations with Azazel exactly who she was. The demon that followed his cult around. She guessed she was too occupied with Jet in the closet to realise before. Leilana rolled her eyes at Jet and then continued.

"I suggest then, that you-" She nodded at Hope. "-hand Azazel over to me whenever you've completed whatever little switch you're working on."

"N-no..." Azazel whimpered.

"You're assuming I'm actually going to give him over." Egon pointed out. "I got options to weigh up."

"Great, I'm just some fucking bargaining chip now, huh?" Trance replied.

"Just be grateful I'm even out here trying to save your ass!" Egon pointed out.

"Are we gonna kill one of 'em or not?" Wraith complained to Leilana.

"Not yet, that defeats the entire point, you idiot!" she snapped back.

"It is your job to-"

"You don't think I have better shit to-"

"Hey, I'm not an-"

"Why did I think you'd be-"

"D-do I know him-"

"That's just Wraith, he's-"

"Can you just let me the fuck go-"

"Phi, d-don't-"

Hope was struggling to comprehend what was even going on as everyone started talking over each other. She kept the knife at Trance's neck but her hands on him trembled as they squeezed their eyes shut tight, feeling completely overwhelmed. They had a plan. They knew they had a plan. But right now they couldn't even remember what the hell it was, there was so much fucking noise.

"Hey, STOP!" Jet yelled over everyone. When Hope opened their eyes, he was walking forward a little, looking around at everyone with both arms raised. "Can we just... just see if there's a way for us to get through this without anyone getting hurt?"

"Gonna be honest with ya Jet, I don't really give a shit if anyone gets hurt." Wraith retorted, but it had created enough of a gap in the conversation that Hope could calm a little from the overstimulation, remember what they were doing. Jet glanced back at them and smiled. Was that why he'd done it?

"Y-yeah... I wanna try and... d-do that..." they replied, still shaken. Jet stepped back behind them to let them speak.

"Well get me Azazel, and there's no need for anyone to get hurt, darling." Leilana assured Hope, fixing them with dark brown eyes that made them feel... oddly soothed. Well... maybe more placated, because they weren't calm as such. They were... oh god they were... mildly horny. She breathed a little deeper against Trance's neck as the demon held her stare, and he looked over at her with interest.

"She's a succubus." he explained, picking up on what their reaction meant annoyingly fast.

"I-I know." they responded a little breathily, tearing her gaze away quickly from Leilana's face while the demon cackled delightedly.

The thing was, as Jet had now experienced first-hand... being a little aroused actually tended to give Hope a boost in confidence. "Look." they managed to say, taking a deep breath and then glancing around to everyone. "No-one here is a bad person." There were a couple of smiles, but far more groans, scowls, tuts, and rolls of eyes. They sighed. "Or... no-one here is a good person, depending on how you look at it." they corrected. "Wh-what if I can... can try and... get all of you a little of what you want?" they suggested.

"Taking into account that Seiren wants to kill you, where do you figure the compromise is?" Trance asked, still side-eyeing them.

"We're getting you someone. Real soon." they explained, looking over at Phi, who nodded despite Wraith still having the stake at their chest. "Look... Seiren... I know we haven't gotten along so far but... I also... know you're in there..." she said, looking over in Trance's direction. "So... this guy can't feel pain, but... but that just means you can... play with his blood or whatever longer." Trance paused for a second, then laughed slightly, rolling his eyes. "What?" they asked.

"He kinda likes that you understand we're two different people." he explained. He stared at Hope. "I mean... I don't really give a shit who he kills..." he pointed out. "Maybe... maybe I'd rather it be someone else." he admitted. Hope nodded vigorously.

"OK, well... this guy really deserves to die, alright?" She thought of Wasei and tried not to tear up. She looked between Azazel, Phi and Silas. "We want him dead."

"No pain? Where's the fun in that?" Egon complained. "Is he even gonna be scared of anything?"

"I mean, he still doesn't want to die..." Hope pointed out, well aware that Rahim might not be so suitable for Egon. "If not... I was thinking um... well... L-Leilana...?" she stuttered, looking to the succubus who was almost as intimidating as she was stunning.

"Yes?" the demon asked, looking down over Si's shoulder at her fairly disapprovingly. Azazel had told Hope about her before though. She knew exactly how she operated.

"Can you still... drain people's life force after they're dead?" she asked sheepishly. Leilana gazed at her for a moment, but was seemingly thinking it over.

"To do that the traditional way, one would have to be a necrophiliac." Leilana pointed out. "But considering I instead consume the bodies themselves, that would not be an issue as long as they're freshly killed."

"That's how you do it, huh?" Wraith responded from next to her, looking over at her with surprise and intrigue.

"So, theoretically if..." Hope began before they could get caught up talking about it. "...Egon and Trance did the work in killing off one of your cult guys now and again, you could maybe... hang around here to feed?" Again, despite the dismissive look, she mulled it over.

"That would be acceptable, yes." She glanced over at the large house. "Probably... more acceptable to spend time here than some of the places the cult resides, in all honesty." she admitted, then folded her arms. "But the whole reason I'm here is that they're far harder to isolate without Azazel."

"Hope..." Azazel said quietly from still within Egon's grip, his violet eyes terrified. "I don't want to go back."

"I know, I know Zaze." they said softly, putting up a hand, wary of triggering him to use his powers again. "Look, all we need, is a message from you. Just one message, record it on video if you want! Just tell all those dumbasses they need to send one or two people off a month."

"Hope." Phi replied with a frown.

"Look; I was including me when I said none of us is really good." Hope pointed out.

"No..." Azazel replied. "It's... it is good, th-they kill people they find as "sacrifices" all the time." he explained. "This way it's... only their own members getting..." He looked vaguely nauseous. "C-cannibalised..." Trance and Egon looked to each other for a moment. Clearly they weren't entirely opposed to it.

"From what I saw when me and Azazel were running from them, most of them are awful people, too." Bogy added. She pulled a face of vague disgust. "Some of the shit they've done..."

"I guess..." Phi relented. "But... what about brainwashed kids, or... vulnerable people they've led in to get a meal out of 'em?" Silas looked to them, nodding supportively.

"Oh, you're more boring than I thought." Wraith complained. Phi glanced at him but still seemed pretty aware of how he had them at his mercy so didn't protest.

"My point is, who can say who really deserves it?" Phi finished. Hope really didn't like that they were this determined to cover all bases while they were in the midst of kidnappers and killers, but deep down... they knew they were kind of right.

"...I can!" Jet realised. He'd been unusually quiet while Hope explained their plan. "I can get anything on anyone! Make sure they do deserve it!" Hope glanced back and gave him a relieved smile.

"Oh shit, yeah." Bogy replied, stepping closer to him and putting an arm around his shoulders. Another twinge of jealousy hit Hope. Ridiculous they knew, but they couldn't help it.

"I got a question." Wraith said, looking Hope over. They glanced at him nervously; after seeing how quickly he'd managed to destroy Phi the other time, who she'd always thought of as a complete badass, they were probably way more scared of him than Leilana. Plus he was a little... unpredictable, which didn't gel well with Hope's logical style of reasoning with people. "What exactly do you think I want, master negotiator?"

Hope had to admit, though they'd obviously seen Wraith before they passed out in Trance's car, three times now actually thanks to their rebirths, they'd never had a real conversation with him. Just the taunting at the top of the stairs in the last loop. They did recall what he'd shouted back to Trance though. "I... think you... just... want to see what happens..." they repeated. "You just want the chaos, someone to toy with." Wraith folded his arms.

"Oh yeah?" he asked. It was evident they might have a point there but he was hardly going to congratulate them. "How are you gonna give me that?"

"C'mon, Wraith..." they said in the most convincing tone they could offer. It came our surprisingly smoothly. They knew causing drama was easy to do under any circumstances, so they were going to have to make the offer seem very attractive to him. "You don't think it would be fun?" A little smile graced their lips. "Introducing these insanely religious guys to a literal demon? Making them question everything their tiny little minds have ever comprehended?"

"Kinda liking you all of a sudden." Wraith responded, grinning and showing an eerie amount of teeth.

"I'm not part of the deal I'm afraid." they responded, making him chuckle back. Respect from a demon certainly wasn't something to be taken lightly. As far as they knew, that was all their non-friends convinced. "So... you have your offer... how's everyone feeling right now?"

"This isn't about feelings." Egon replied. "What you're suggesting... could work pretty well for us." He looked to Trance, not really betraying much in his expression but clearly awaiting his opinion too.

"Insanely religious, huh?" Trance asked of the cult, flicking his eyes across at her again. Hope nodded.

"I bet you could do some really interesting things with them too, Trance." they suggested, practically breathing against his neck.

"Do you have to talk like you're flirting with everyone all of a sudden?" he asked

"I don't know if I can turn it off now, sweetheart." they replied, fingers drumming at his chest, even though a slight laugh broke through. It wasn't even the effect of the succubus anymore. They felt powerful. They finally felt like they might be winning. Trance sighed, but then he looked back to Egon, and nodded.

"I'm getting tired of hanging around here." he replied. "We'll take your stupid deal." Egon's green eyes stared Hope down, not looking as compliant to it, but then looked across to everyone.

"Any bullshit, and we'll send Wraith after you." he suggested. Hope nodded at him seriously. Wraith snorted.

"Sure, if I feel like it." the demon corrected him with a chuckle. But he finally released his grip on Phi, letting them stumble forward a little. "Careful." he taunted.

"C'mon." Hope said to Trance, drawing the knife a little further from his neck and encouraging him to step forwards with them. Bogy followed alongside with the shotgun. Similarly, as Egon walked forward with Azazel, Wraith moved to his side and moved alongside him. As soon as they were close, Hope released their hold on Trance, knife still at his neck, and reached for Azazel's hand.

"Careful, he's a little turned on." Wraith teased the angel as he watched Egon loosen his grip on him slowly. Azazel looked at him in confusion.

"Funny, I was going to say the same thing." Hope couldn't resist joking back despite the fact they were shaking the whole time as they lowered the knife from Trance's throat carefully, leaving him free to return to Egon.

"Very fucking funny." Trance mumbled as he turned and stepped back from them, though he did look at them for a moment. "You were interesting, I'll give you that." he added softly. Hope said nothing, still backing away with Azazel, but then they hesitated and held his knife out to him. Trance looked surprised she was bothering to return it at first, but cupped his hand underneath it. Hope pressed the handle into his palm, lingering for a moment.

"Take care of yourself, Trance." they said earnestly. "You too Seiren I guess..." they added, holding back from rolling their eyes. Maybe... under just slightly different circumstances they could have been closer. Hope could have found a way to end the loop without parting from Trance like this. But the way things had gone, this was the only way they felt safe. As they let the knife go and kept backing away with Azazel and Bogy, the feeling of victory rushed over them and they knew this loop at least was over. They survived.

"None of you are leaving 'til your replacement gets here." he pointed out as he slipped the knife back in his pocket. "He's bugging the hell outta me enough already." Hope nodded.

"That's fair." they said. It was a nice night. Still a little cold, but not so terrible. They could wait it out a couple more hours. As Egon's group all began returning to their own conversations, everything still strange but a lot more calm, Azazel walked right over to talk to Bogy, with Jet backing away to give them their moment. Phi took their shotgun back off Bogy and returned to Silas, slinging it back onto their back before the couple embraced each other. Hope looked away as they moved in to kiss each other, focusing back on looking over at Trance talking with Egon.

They felt a hand brush their lower back. They stiffened slightly, not so much because they didn't know who it would be, but because they did. She turned to see Jet beside her. "You did amazing!" he said quietly, but just as enthusiastic as ever.

She looked across, an intense sense of relief at seeing all ten people around them alive. Trance, Seiren, Egon, Wraith and Leilana on one side. Phi, Silas, Bogy, Azazel and Jet on the other.

The only difference was that one side had Hope.

Maybe they could finally put some degree of value on themself, seeing it like this. Maybe they were worth something.

"Thanks." they replied to Jet, giving him a fond smile. "You know... you helped a lot too, though."

"Not that much..." Jet chuckled. "It was killing me to keep quiet while you explained actually." he admitted sheepishly.

"But you did it." they assured. "But you also shut everyone up so I could think." Hope said, looking down at thier hands then over to him. "Y'know, being able to get along with everyone... even if they don't always treat you right... it counts for... so much." It was certainly something they couldn't do. They smiled. "You're fucking awesome, Jet." He smiled back, looking pleasantly surprised.

"Aww!" he said emphatically, sounding so happy that Hope couldn't help but giggle a little. He leant his head on their shoulder slightly. "You're the sweetest, Hope."

"No, you..." they joked back as they blushed once more at the contact. The top of his hair brushed the back of their neck, making them tingle. There was this weird awkwardness tightening at the centre of their chest though. Everything had suddenly gone from seeing relief and ease and familiarity in him that inevitably got them both killed, to the polar opposite. Everyone was alive, but everything had been so back and forth between them for the last hour or so that suddenly the whole thing felt overwhelming. "Jet, listen-"

"Hope, I-" Jet began simulaneously. He drew back up off her shoulder and they looked at each other, laughing slightly. "You go!" he suggested through it. "I'm always talking, anyway."

"No, honestly, you should." they assured. "It was actually one of those things where I... really don't know what I was going to say, I just knew I should say something, y'know?" they admitted. "So... go for it, please."

"OK." Jet replied, nodding lightly. "Uh... so... about what you said in the bathroom..." Hope nodded, but they could feel thier face starting to blush very deeply indeed recalling it.

"I'm sorry that was... oh god I'm so awkward..." they stuttered, looking down and shaking their head, throwing their fringe all over their face. Jet took her arm in the hand that wasn't already on thier back, peering down to try and see them.

"No, it was hot." he assured, giving them a little smile. "But then..." he struggled as if trying to comprehend their change in demeanour. They looked at him, pushing their hair back a little and trying not to focus too hard on the hands on them. "I felt like I was making you uncomfortable... and I don't know if it was... shy uncomfortable or... or if I crossed a line..."

"You didn't cross a line, Jet." they assured. "I was just feeling weird because you made me think you and Bogy were together." they explained.

"And that... upset you?" he asked. He got to the bottom of things so quickly compared to their shy skirting about. They could point out most of their change in demeanour was just the consequence of trying to back off, but... he made it seem so easy to be honest that it seemed pointless. "Hope, c'mon, just tell me."

"OK fine..." they said, sighing but unable to resist giving him a little smile. "I like you. I didn't wanna make too big of a thing about it when we first met because of Theo but I do."

"I like you too!" he replied hastily. The words made their heart flutter slightly, yet still they worried that it wasn't enough.

"Still, I..." they began, still holding back. They glanced to Azazel talking earnestly with Bogy. Silas kissing Phi. Trance apparently muttering something to Seiren again. Then she thought back to everyone she'd felt similarly for who wasn't there. "The truth is Jet... I make a lot of poor choices when it comes to dumb crushes." they admitted. "Like... just awful... fucking trainwreck decisions." Jet laughed slightly.

"I could be the next one." he joked, giving her a little wink. He glanced over at Egon. "Look... I'm no better." he admitted. "But..." He took a second to get the words together, his fingers pinching at the material of the hoodie he was wearing, and it seemed to jog a memory. "Ooh, OK, so, I lose things a lot... and I've noticed people always say "it's always in the last place you look" when I find them..."

"Oh I can't stand that." Hope said, laughing with him slightly. "It's such a ridiculous phrase, I-I mean, if I'd found it, I wouldn't still be looking!" they ranted. "Of course it's going to be in the..." She looked to Jet, suddenly realising what the significance might be before he even got to it. Their expression dropped to a more serious one as they looked at him. "The last place I look."

"Right." Jet agreed. "So like... it's the same with relationships, you gotta look in a lot of wrong places sometimes, because once you found the right one..." He sighed. "I don't know... I was never great with metaphors."

"No, no that's.." they began. "I get it. If I'd made the right decision I wouldn't still be looking." They turned to face him with a smile. He didn't move the hand off their back, though he shifted to their other arm so he wasn't reaching across them weirdly. "That's really smart, actually."

"Really?!" he asked, sounding pretty surprised even as he smiled back.

"Yeah!" they chuckled back casually, finding that smile so damn adorable. Still, they were cautious. "So uh... I'm gonna do the smart thing and... suggest that..." Jet was looking at them so intently, hanging onto their every word, his hand brushing lightly at their back threatening to undo their firm attempt to be sensible. They couldn't stop looking at his eyes, his lips. "W-we could maybe get to know each other a little more... before we... act upon..." They stared hard at Jet, all those images of what they'd already done in their memories hitting them like a truck. "...anything... else..." they finished a little breathily.

"Uh huh..." Jet replied, his eyes flicking up and down their face longingly like he was anything but in agreement. "I can... we can... do that..." he said unconvincingly. "If you... really want to..." It wasn't, it wasn't, it wasn't. They felt like it was taking so much of their willpower to not lean in they could barely breathe. The tension between them was so thick they felt like they could sink their teeth right into it right now. But Hope had already tied themselves in too many knots overthinking it to just give in and...

"I don't want to!" they blurted out, and Jet immediately pulled them to him and kissed them hard. Their hands moved to his face and neck as they kissed back with equal measure, putting their all into this because how often did anyone get a second first kiss with someone? It felt so nice the first time but they were scared to do it, scared they'd get caught, scared of how he'd react. Now, as they let the instinctive part of their brain take over, their mouth opening wider, their tongue tangling with Jet's as one of their hands slid up to his hair, they weren't scared of a damn thing. In fact he was the one who had to rein them in, pulling them back a little, panting.

"Woah... OK..." he breathed, hands still at their waist. "Gonna be... hard not to get carried away..."

"Get carried away..." they said in a low, seductive voice, their face still close to his, their breath lingering on his lips. It was all the more powerful than in their fantasies with Jet. He looked like he was doing everything in his power not to fucking explode. "Just... in a little while..." they said as they drew back casually, the hand that was tangled in his hair moving back down and tapping lightly at his chest. "When all this shit is sorted."

"I don't know I'm gonna wait until we get home..." Jet admitted, running his hands over their waist and looking rather enthralled by her.

"I didn't say we had to wait that long..." they pointed out with a raise of their eyebrows, eyeing up the woods all around them.

"...You're so hot..." Jet whined, taking their hands and leaning in to kiss them again, but this time they both held back a little, Hope giggling a little against Jet's lips. "So... you wanna just... see where it goes?" he clarified once they parted again, smiling at them.

"Yeah." they agreed with a gentle nod, a soft smile at him. "As long as it doesn't end on a fucking balcony, I don't even care anymore."

Insomnia wasn't something that ever really went anywhere, of course. There were still nights when Hope would take a while to fall asleep, or keep waking through the night, or get up too early and not be able to get back down again. But recently... well she had to admit, it had often been that little bit easier.

In fact, as their fingertips weaved through their boyfriend's soft dark hair as he lay with his head on on her stomach, chatting away as usual, both in their underwear and each other's shirts despite the breeze blowing through the slightly window, she found herself very close indeed to dozing off right in the middle of the day.

"Oh... I'm sorry... I went off on a bit of a tangent there, huh...?" Jet asked, realising she hadn't replied for a while.

"Oh..." they mumbled sleepily. "N-no... not at all baby!" they assured. "I'd love to give it a play with you later! I just... I didn't get a very good night's sleep last night."

"Oh no, how comes?" Jet asked affectionately, looking up at them with slight concern and picking up the hand that was draped on his shoulder to kiss it. "That feels so nice by the way." he commented of her other hand still running through his hair.

"Oh, I just... there was this streetlight that kept flickering, it was coming right through the blinds." they sighed. They raised their head and peered over towards one of windows of the covered balcony. "God, I hope they fix it today..."

Originally the idea that the two of them were getting kicked out from the couch to the balcony was just a joke about them making too much noise in the living room, kitchen, bathroom, and... well pretty much anywhere that wasn't Phi and Silas's bedroom, but over time, they'd actually come to like it. Neither of them felt safe going back to their own apartments for now, everything still felt up in the air, even with the agreement for Leilana to pick members of the EBC out to be Trance and Egon's victims. They got to put in the dirty work and get what Seiren needed and Egon... just plain enjoyed, Lana still got to eat them when they were done, and Azazel got to live a much quieter life with Bogy and their friends.

Despite it all, Hope couldn't bring herself to hate Trance. She still felt sorry for him in a lot of ways, and she still wished for the best for him. He'd recently given them a rather generous budget for exclusive access to some designs they'd been brave to ask if he was interested in, they were currently in production. There was a chance if word spread, they wouldn't have to go back to barista work again, which was good seeing as the old place she worked had fired her after one missed shift while Trance had her captured. Kidnapping and quite possibly some residual guilt was definitely a very bizarre start to a working friendship, but it was a very bizarre world they lived in, after all.

This tiny little room though, was a reprieve from all of that. Their smallish bed took up one half of the closed balcony, and there was a little dining table on the other half where Jet would set up his laptop and Hope her tablet or sketchbook so they could work. There were a few plants in the window boxes that she was pretty sure Phi or Silas must be watering because neither of them ever remembered to, some fake candles for when it got dark. Most importantly, windows all around so they could look over the large town, untouched by all the horrors packed into it. Jet and Hope's little private universe, their own little bubble.

But... maybe the balcony itself wasn't really the bubble anymore. Because when Jet twirled Hope around at a rave after she'd picked out the slightly less dangerous highs for them both, it was still there. And when they sat in the middle of the floor of the living room and Hope taught Jet card games while he tried his utmost hardest to focus on them, it was still there. When he showed them computer stuff. When they showed him how to cook. When they did all the things they both already liked, like game or watch stupid videos that made them snort with laughter or sit there devouring snacks and energy drinks or have copious amounts of noisy sex or just lay there together talking.

Balcony or not, it was always there.

"You could sleep now." Jet suggested. "I'm a little tired too after..." he giggled. "Y'know." Hope laughed slightly too.

"I said I was going to ride you until I broke either you or the bed, and the bed survived." they teased with a little lip-biting smile down at him. He grinned back. "I don't know though, you know how hard I find it to nap..." Jet nodded, then thought for a moment.

"What if I help you..." he suggested, shifting off of them and getting up to close the nearest of the blinds, giving the beautiful view of the city one last smile.

"Oh... Jet, you know you really don't have to-" they begun, already feeling a little disappointment at him not laying on them anymore.

"I know." he replied, moving to the next one and shutting that, too. "I want to!" He gave her an earnest smile and went around closing them all until the light in there wasn't perfectly dark, but a lot dimmer at least. "And I know you need it dark." he pointed out, coming back over to the bed and kneeling beside them. They smiled and reached up, tugging playfully at her crop top he was wearing. He looked so cute in it. "Because it's in your whole... "SNOWED" thing."

"Awww..." they cooed appreciatively. "You remembered..." It was yet another piece of information Jet's infectious talkativeness had led them to finally share with another person.

"It's a good way to remember it." he pointed out with a shrug. "But I guess I'm... going backwards." he realised with a laugh. Empty?"

They smiled again that he remembered. "Well on the one hand I ate a few too many M&Ms..." they replied. "But I don't need to pee so I think I'll be OK."

"Good. Uhhhhh..." Jet thought for a second. "Ooh!" he grabbed the blankets that were crumpled all over the place, and nestled up next to Hope, pulling them over them both. Hope turned to him with a smile and slipped their arms over his shoulders. "Warm! You like to tuck them right up to your neck!" He made sure the covers were tucked around their back, but then looked at the space between them. "Oh... I'm kind of in the way of that, aren't I?" he realised with a nervous giggle, resting a hand at their waist and another at the middle of their chest. Truth was though, Hope had always gripped the blankets that way because it was something to hold close, and the covers held them tight in return. She didn't need it that way right now. She'd much rather this, holding and being held by Jet.

"You keep me plenty warm." they assured him softly. "You are so adorable for even remembering all this shit."

"I kinda made notes on my phone last time you told me." Jet admitted, nuzzling his nose against theirs.

"Jet, you realise that's even more adorable?" they pointed out. They toyed with the longer side of his hair with the fingertips of one hand. "That takes effort." They planted a gentle kiss against his cheek. "Good boy." they praised with a little smile and a wink.

"Hope..." Jet replied, a slight blush spreading across his face even as he grinned, biting at his lip a little.

"OK, I'm sorry, I'm not trying to turn you on." they insisted through a slight laugh. "But you are. The best boy. My boy." Jet blushed harder and came so close he was buried right against her neck, squeezing her tight. They felt his lips move like he was about to say something, but then he didn't, which... for Jet, was very unusual. Worrying, even. There was a slightly awkward pause between them both for a moment.

"So... uh... before Warm, it's Orgasm..." Jet recalled. He looked back up at them and tapped a finger at his lip, feigning innocence. "Diiiiid I manage to take care of that one at all?" he teased.

"You know you did." Hope replied with amusement, but they were blushing just as hard as he'd just been at the question. "Guess it's more like SNO-O-OWED for today, huh?" they asked with a little chuckle, pulling him back up to face them with a finger under his chin.

"The day's not over yet." Jet pointed out playfully, winking at them. He looked down and shifted his vest up and their boxers down a little to trail his finger along their hip. "The N is for naked, right?"

"Are you... sure you're trying to get me to sleep?" Hope asked him just a little breathily. He slid down their boxers for them and they wiggled them off, then he looked back up, locking eyes with them.

"Sorry, you know it's... hard to keep my hands off you..." he pointed out softly, but there was definitely a hint of arousal in his tone as his hands stroked the outside of their bare thigh.

"And you never need to." they flirt back. "But like hell am I taking your shirt off. You'll just have to deal with the chest being all stretched out." they teased.

"I can live with that." he said with a smirk back. "You... like wearing it that much?" They nodded.

"Here's the way I see it." they explained with a shy smile, reaching out to fiddle with the hemline of her top on him. "When I can smell you on me, that's like... having a part of you with me whenever, right?"

"Aww!" he replied happily. "I love that!"

"But..." they continued, not finished. "I also have all of you right here." They put their palm to his chest and rubbed in a gentle circle, then looked to the side thoughtfully. "Sooo... this way, I get like... 120% Jet." they finished, smiling back at him. They honestly couldn't believe how lucky they were to have him. He swallowed, looking at her, but his eyes were so wide and shiny he looked like he was about to cry. "You OK, baby?"

"I'm... usually too much for people..." he said in a surprisingly soft, earnest tone, still looking like he might cry despite the smile breaking on his face. "You... want more of me?"

"Of course!" she assured, shifting their arms to embrace him tightly and pressing their forehead to his. "Always." Over the years, they'd become so nervous to admit how much they liked people, even with they were in a relationship with them; it only got them hurt. Being with Jet had undone some of that damage and in turn, let them be more honest with their affection for him. They planted a gentle kiss against his lips. He let out a happy sigh.

"I uh... I forgot what S is for." he admitted, looking rather caught up in her. "I always forget that one."

Hope laughed slightly. "I'm not surprised." they replied with a hint of teasing in their tone. "It's... silence." they said casually, then they realised how it might sound they began to backpedal. "Or... just quiet really." they added hastily. "Silence is really overselling it I mean I don't exactly need-"

"Oh god..." Jet interrupted, realising why she was being awkward about bringing it up. "Do I stop you sleeping?"

"What? No!" they insisted. "It's never been like that Jet, I swear, when I do stay up talking to you it's just because I don't want to stop!"

"But... but would you sleep better without me...?" he asked, looking at them anxiously.

"No." they reiterated. "Please, baby, I sleep better with you than I ever have!" they begged honestly. They rubbed their forehead against his slightly to get him to look them in the eyes. Those beautiful grey eyes that had captivated them from the first time they met him. He glanced back at them, but he still looked a little worried. "Look... I've been rewriting the universe for six fucking years." they reminded him. He really did know everything about them now, even that. "Soon as I've got a little rest, I'm rewriting SNOWED altogether." They smirked a little. "Preferably to something with at least two "O"s and a "J"." they joked to try and lighten the mood.

"Y-you don't have to do that." Jet replied, unusually flustered. "I can try to... be a little quieter."

"No, Jet, I mean it." they said firmly. "Look, I still like quiet." they admitted, giving him a genuine smile. Just looking at him made their heart flutter sometimes. "But... I like you like... a million times more."

"Hope..." Jet breathed, eyes wide as he looked at her, a slightly dopey smile spreading across his face. "I... I like you a lot too..." There was a hint of worry though. Something he was holding back, just like a few minutes ago.

"Jet?" they asked with slight concern. "What's... what's wrong?" He looked at them and bit at his lip, fidgeting a little. Whatever he wanted to say, he was struggling to hold it back. What made them worry so much was that Jet didn't hold stuff back. He just seemed to say almost everything. Unless... unless it was hurtful? Oh god... did he want to break up with them? "Baby... you're... worrying me..." they admitted, chewing at their lip.

They were pretty damn self-aware of course, they knew it was clingy as hell to worry this much about someone you'd been with for a matter of weeks ending things with you. But Jet was so special to them, he wasn't like anyone else. All those things that made them worry about falling for him, they'd been entirely correct, but as time went on, they only found more and more reasons to like him. One reason glared out amongst all the rest though. Something they only very recently realised they'd not experienced in any of their relationships.

He didn't hurt them.

"...OK." Jet said in an unusually quiet breath. "So... uh... I know you thought I moved too fast with Theo and I guess... I guess I did." he explained. "But the past few weeks I've never felt so... so safe, so wanted, so cared for, so... happy, and..." They breathed a sigh of relief. He was holding back nice things. His hands reached under the blanket, seeking theirs out. They found both of his and took them, the two fiddling with each other's fingertips, obviously both still nervous. "Don't freak out, please. But... I think I... love you, Hope."

Their breath caught in their throat and they squeezed his hands tight. "Jet..." they said, a slight laugh in their tone because they were so damn relieved, their heart beating so rapidly they felt like it was about to explode. "I love you too!"

"Oh my God!" Jet breathed excitedly. "Yeeeeessss!" It was the absolute sweetest; a huge grin spread across Hope's face. "Sorry." he replied with a giggle. "I just didn't think..." He closed his eyes and smiled, biting down on his lip and wiggling from excitement. He opened his eyes back up and pulled them to him and kissed them, and they kissed back, both soft but very enthusiastic.

They wrapped their arms tightly around his neck while he brought his up to their back. She loved him so damn much, she never wanted to let him go. He wasn't perfect, neither were they. But their imperfections balanced each other out pretty damn well. They were panting a little when they pulled away, a hint of a blush on both their faces. "Probably shouldn't... go too far with this right now, right?" he asked with a breathless chuckle. "Not if you're tired."

"I mean..." Hope said, the very mention of the word tired causing them to betray themself with a yawn through the rest of the sentence. "I wouldn't mind..." Apparently it was infectious as Jet yawned back. He looked severely tempted, but managed to hold back for once.

"I can... calm down." he assured. "Get some sleep, babe." he tilted their head down to plant a kiss to their forehead. "Rewriting the universe is a really important job!" he added with a giggle.

"I'm really, really hoping I've retired from that." she said with a grimace. Six years was quite enough for one lifetime. "But... I think I've rewritten the acronym already."

"What?" Jet replied with a giggle. "That was so fast! What is it?"

"OK... it might be stupid but... YODEL." they explained. "Most importantly, You." they began. Jet smiled hard, but listened to the rest. "Orgasm, Dark, Empty, they're all the same. But the L can be..." They blushed a little, not used to actually talking about this yet though they'd been pretty sure for a while now.

"Loud?" he replied with a chuckle, reaching for their hand and interlinking his with it, bringing the two up between them. They shook their head.

"Loved." they confirmed with a soft smile.

"Oh!" Jet replied, smiling back. "Yeah." he nodded. "So, so much!"

"I mean... I guess that kinda comes with the whole... you part." they mused. "But I don't think yode is a word."

"Maybe not..." Jet agreed, running a hand onto their hair with a smile, then suddenly lighting up. "Ooh, how about lullaby?!" he asked. "I... can't really do silent... but... I can always sing for you!"

"Aww, I'd love that." Hope replied. He really was the sweetest. Jet wriggled onto his back, pulling her in against his shoulder, hand still in their hair.  They pulled the covers up, placed a hand on his chest and wrapped a leg across his thigh contentedly as he began to sing to them, surprisingly quiet at first.

"When the lights go out..." he began. "Will you take me with you..."  She knew he wasn't the most confident about his singing voice. But he could hold a tune, and it really was the perfect volume to fall asleep to. "And carry all this broken bone,"

"MCR?" they reply, nuzzling into his neck a little more and closing their eyes. "You spoil me, love."

Jet smiled into her hair as he continued. "Through six years down in crowded rooms, And highways I call home..."  Huh. It really was six years. Six years since the start of college, six years since she'd first started cycling through endless entrapment, neglect, torture, death. Through all those things Jet would never subject her to. All the things she really hoped they were both finally away from. It certainly didn't end on a balcony. In fact, she was pretty sure this was just the beginning.

"It's something I can't know 'til now..." His voice was so cute. It was a little scratchy at times, but to Hope, it was the sweetest. The weird thing was that a month ago, Hope had been so sure of who they were; sure enough to fix a whole handful of deaths on minutes of sleep. Right now though, they were feeling out of touch with that. Almost like they were a whole different person.

In fact, things were so nice, and normal, and overall going so well, that they were almost ready to admit they might be...

Ebony, again.

"'Til you pick me off the ground," Jet continued as hebegan scrunching his hand in their hair gently. The same way this had all began in a way, all that time ago back in Theo's apartment. "With a brick in hand, your lip-gloss smile, your scraped-up knees, and..."

As he hit the chorus, Hope couldn't help but join in. "If you stay, I would even wait all night," they both sang, giggling slightly. "Or until my heart explodes, How long... until we..." Jet stopped and began nuzzling into Hope's hair, listening for a moment. He seemed to really like when they sang. "...Find our way, In the dark and out of harm?"  they continued, opening their eyes back up despite their tiredness and lifting their head to catch his beautiful grey ones. They smiled at each other, and finished the chorus together.

"You can run away with me, Anytime you want."

End note: It's Halloween, so why not finish with the most horrifying thing of all?

Fluff. 😈

Thank you again Captain for being so gracious with your murder boys and letting me blend our worlds together. I promise to give Jet back tomorrow. Love you mate. 🫡

[themafia-terrapins]

Into the night.

A/N: You should read the post before this to get an understanding of this AU. Fair warning, this is pretty long. Enjoy! 💚

Disclaimer: mention of child abuse ahead. Be warned!

Cold. Merciless. Dangerous. Mysterious.

They were the only words that many used to describe the Hamato Clan. No one wanted to mess with them in fear of what they would do, countless stories were told of those who had double crossed them and in result, hadn’t lived to see the next day. The most feared gang caught in a dark and ruthless world of crime, violence, blood and lust. Others wanted their wealth and power but not everything is what it seemed to be. 

The cold breeze hit Leonardo’s face, as he gulped down air quickly into his lungs. He was sure those horrid nightmares would have stopped, it had been almost 11 years for God’s sake. Cursing under his breath, he knocked down the tub of medication which rattled on the floor. The view of New York was beautiful from all the way up here and as frantically as he tried to focus on it, those poisonous thoughts blazed through his mind and he had no power to control it. 

“Father please don’t leave again” The young teen cried, trailing helplessly after the rat who swore angrily. Being only 13, he wasn’t able to grab those supplies that his brothers needed. They were forced to rely on Splinter but he would hardly help them. They were lucky if he even brought down the bare necessities for them to survive on. 

“How many times do I have to tell you leave me alone?! Enough!” Splinter growled, loosening his tie as he made his way to the sewers steps. But Leo had to try for his brothers, he couldn’t look at their pain anymore. He couldn’t go back empty handed, to witness Raphael put up a brave front despite actively bleeding and bruised practically everywhere on his frail body. He couldn’t see Donnie on the verge of another panic attack because he didn’t know how to fix them. He couldn’t bear to see Mikey trying to hold it all together but breaking down in the bathroom , when he thought nobody was listening because he couldn’t live in this nightmare. 

“R-Raph is hurt and we don’t have any more bandages” Leo spoke timidly, trying to sound clear and confident but his voice trembled. Splinter stood still and the turtle could already smell the sour whiskey from his clothes. It had been a bad day, he presumed. Whiskey was only drunk whenever a loss was incurred. And that usually meant he wouldn’t be home for days, much o the turtle’s pleasure. 

“What have I said about speaking back?!” Splinter bellowed, his arm whacking Leo backwards until his shell hit the tunnel. The side of his shell had already been damaged due to constantly training day and night to perfect the routine Splinter had set them. But an audible crack had been heard and a small gasp left his lips, already seeing a trickle of blood roll down his skin staining the previous bandages. He hadn’t even time to register the pain until Splinter loomed over his body, his eyes black and dangerous. 

“Father I’m-” Leo’s breath hitched in his throat, tears prickling his eyes painfully watching his hand raise slowly. ‘Not again, please not again’

“You’re absolutely hopeless, you hear me?!” Again Splinter punched the turtle, laughing each time when the terrapin recoiled in pain. Leonardo held his tongue, scared to further anger the drunken rat. Every slap, punch and kick was taken without a sound because the punishment for wincing was double the amount than the beating now. And he wasn’t so sure his shell could take anymore.

“Look at you! You expect to take on my legacy acting like a pathetic little girl?! Get out of my sight before I finish you” With one swift punch to Leo’s jaw, Splinter left to go topside. He could hear his evil voice cackle on the phone to one of his partners in this mysterious business he refused to utter a word about.

“Why do you hit us so much? What did we ever do to you?” Leo sobbed quietly, curling into a little ball on the floor. The punch on his plastron seared throughout his body, burning in hot white pain. Yet it must be nothing compared to what his brothers were going through. They were awaiting Leo but the eldest could barely move, let alone walk to their home. 

Home, usually described at being comforting and loving but he hadn’t felt any of these emotions since they moved in. He used to yearn for a mother to come and take their pain away but as he grew, that dream slowly died as hope in him also began to wither. 

Maybe one day things would be different...

---

Blaring traffic shocked the turtle out of his trance and with a shuddering breath, he took several deep breaths. He l

“Why must I be reminded of such memories?” Leonardo sighed, his hand drifting over his temple to soothe the dull ache. No matter how long it had been, the wound from his past was still fresh. They say time healed all pain so why did his still hurt? Some nights it was bearable and some nights it felt like he was being suffocated in his mind, slowly driving insane.

Physical pain definitely was a lot more tolerable than verbal, even now he could still hear the echo of Splinter’s voice reprimanding him whenever he failed. Those stabbing words ringing louder and louder in his ears, berating him for being stupid and weak. Laughing at how his ridiculous attempt of leading a team. Leonardo never wanted anything more than to make Splinter proud but during his years, he realised that it was never going to happen.

Splinter only cared for himself and Leo, along with his brothers, were merely pawns in his cruel game.

But now was not the time to dwell on these matters, things had to be done and completed. His phone rang jarring him out of his thoughts and he picked it up rather reluctantly.

“What is it, Silas?” His assistant/companion spoke quickly, picking up the disinterest in Leo’s voice. He was never one for sugarcoating his feelings or emotions, if the boss wanted something done it was pronto.

“Beast is requesting dinner with capo and the mob. Your presence is required, sir” Holding his urge to groan, the turtle glanced down at the lights that decorated the buildings of New York. They were so beautiful but he couldn’t even take the time to appreciate it, reality had called and with great reluctance he had to answer.  

Beast... what was there to say? He was a snob, ignorant, extremely wealthy but lacked any common sense or values. Leo’s patience was practically non existent whenever he communicated with him. While he provided a great reference for other business partners, Beast himself was on thin ice with the brothers.

“Dinner at... 1am?” Leo scowled, looking at his watch. Beast, while had been an average business partner, had constant demands and ideas that were completely absurd. The brothers were tiring of his constant requests and awful timing.

“I did not suggest the convocation at this late sir” The assistant began but Leo interrupted him, wanting to end this conversation. 

“Be that as it may, unfortunately I cannot attend. Cancel my plans for tonight, I have a reconciliation to attend to and the conference will take up most my time” He ordered, observing the bonsai trees that stood on the balcony. One thing he grew to adore was his plants, they were simple and with enough care and love, blossomed into something gorgeous. 

“I don’t think Beast will be pleased with the rejection. He only wants a few words with the mob and especially you, Capo” Silas tried to reason but the terrapin was adamant.

“Enough. Reschedule this meeting tomorrow at 11pm sharp. Am I understood?” Leo commanded and Silas nodded, already writing it down in his notepad.

“Crystal. Enjoy your night sir” ‘Unlikely’... Hanging up, the blue cladded turtle inhaled a deep breath to collect his thoughts. Cancelling the meeting is a mistake but there were bigger fish to fry tonight. Other duties lay heavy on his mind and with a turn of his heel, he left his safe haven. 

As he entered his room, a young woman appeared at his door. Her heels echoed on the polished marble floors, grinding on his last nerve. God he really didn’t want to deal with her right in this moment. Her eyes settled on his and her face lifted into a small smile, one he did not mirror back.

“Katherine, what brings you to my quarters? Surely you’re old enough to understand you cannot barge in whenever you please” Leonardo watched as the young woman quickly stepped back, picking up the heavy discomfort that lay in the air.

“My apologies Leonardo. It’s Raphael, he said that you guys are attending a conference tonight but it’s our 3 month-”

“I fail to understand how this is my problem” He was quick in letting her know, he hadn’t the time to listen to her. Truth be told, he would never understand why Raphael stuck with her. She caused more pain and grief than anything to him.

“Okay... but could you tell me at least why?” She cocked her head and Leo turned, his face set in a hard frown.

“That is between me and my brothers Katherine. I do not appreciate when people interfere in my business. That much should be painfully obvious” His tone was calm but the harsh voice was clearly heard.

Opening his cupboard door, the small picture of Eva caught his eye. A small pang of sadness washed over his body before getting a grip on himself, refusing himself to succumb to the weakness. Eva was the past yet it seemed no matter how long the years had gone by, the yearn was as strong as ever. He wondered if he would ever be free from the shackles around his heart that locked tightly in his chest.

He had to accept that no matter how much he hoped on a wishing star or to the sky, she simply was not coming back. On the side showed a glass mirror, outlining all the features on his face. Sleep hadn’t come to the turtle much recently, he was lucky to get 4 hours and that was on a good day.

“You know you can just call me Kiki like everyone else” She raised her brow as he grabbed his navy blue velvet suit, the unreadable facial expression plastered on his face while his dark sapphire eyes burned into hers. Still standing at the doorway, she felt almost scared of him. Despite being with his brother for around 8 years, she never felt like she knew Leo. No one did, he kept to himself and only showed his true colours to those he cared about.

“Katherine, if that is all you have come to say then I highly suggest you leave me be now. It would not bode well for you to overstep your boundaries” With an almost snarl, he walked forwards and closed his door. 

---

“Would you like some champagne, Mr Hamato? It’s the one you specifically requested, Dom Pérignon” The waiter asked and Leo nodded his head, flicking through the newspapers as he awaited the rest of his brothers to join him. This meeting was better suited to the office, he didn’t need any extra ears or eyes to listen in on the information discussed between them. 

“God, I need a drink” He could hear the brute’s voice carry through the halls and into the meeting room.

“Right away boss” Greyson, his assistant spoke and vanished to make his preferred alcoholic beverage.

“What is the occasion, dear brother? As much as I like to spend time with you, I’m assuming you haven’t called us for fun” Donnie sat down, his ankle resting on top of his thigh as his attention diverted to his brother. Delicately folding the papers up and placing them to the side, Leo eyed his younger brother with a smirk. 

“Always straight to the point Donatello. And you’d be correct, I’ve called this meeting to discuss our next steps” He spoke authoritatively as the turtles settled in their seats, glancing at the board which held ideas and secret plans.

“Did ya cancel tha meetin’ with Beast tonight?” Raph asked, eyes skimming at the tablet. That was very unlikely of the leader, he was the one always nagging to keep up with business meetings and such. 

“Yes, I’ll be damned if I have to listen to another lie of his again. He cannot speak clearly and I have no time for beating around the bush. Once we’re done with this proposal, it will be a big relief to have him off our backs” Leo sipped his wine, flicking through his notes. A few names picked up but on the whole, everything seemed relatively calm. But there was no resting, they couldn’t afford not to be on their guard. Trouble was brewing on the horizon, he could feel it in his body. 

“Fuck sake, how many times do I have to tell you I hate when you organise my notes like this” Mikey sighed irritably as his brothers smirked, looking at each other with amusement. 

It was a running joke that Mikey couldn’t hold an assistant down for more than 2 months. Perhaps it was his picky way of being organised or that he had a short temper and hated his things being out of place, they didn’t know. This new assistant fumbled with the drinks, paling as his boss shouted his displeasure. 

“What happened to Donetti Licata?” Donatello asked, chuckling at his younger brother expecting another childish story about organisation as it as had been the story before. 

“Fired him. Caught him screwing Mia in my bed. Which reminds me I really need to employ someone who actually has a working braincell” Mikey spoke nonchalantly while his brothers looked at each other wide eyed.

“Oh... shit. M’sorry Mike, that must’ve been hard” Raph murmured, surprised at how well his little brother was taking the whole thing. Almost... too well in his opinion. Amelia had been the light of his life, his love at one point. They both brought out the best in each other but perhaps it was simply a mirage to the toxicity that lay just under the surface.

She wasn’t the Amelia he fell in love with and as he came to grips with that, the idea of losing her forever felt absolutely scary to him. He tried everything to put their relationship on track but it was Amelia who refused to partake in anything.

“Hmm? Oh.. yeah. It was tolerable once I beat the shit out of him. I can’t ever believe I trusted the fucker....” Mikey leaned back on his chair as another glass of wine was placed in front of him. Yet the lump in his throat felt unmovable, rendering him breathless. 

“Don’t tell me ya still wit’ her Mike. Yer deserve better than that” Raphael’s hand ached to knock some sense into the terrapin. Even if she would countlessly cheat on him, which she probably had done, all she had to do was flutter her lashes and sweet talk him. And just like that Mikey would forgive her in that second. In his eyes, Mia could do no wrong. She had Mikey on a leash but of course, he was oblivious to it all.

“You still with Kiki?” Mikey retorted, venom in his words while his eyes glared at his brother. Raphael’s frown deepened, holding his gaze. While he knew it was in the heat of the moment, he wished Mikey could see the damage Amelia was doing to him. Kiki was different only because Raph knew her past, knew that she was damaged too. How could he, of all people, leave her hanging alone?

“Children, behave. What do we do about these last few payments? I’ve talked to Xavier and he’s saying Gomez hasn’t responded to anything. It’s high time we pay a special visit, he’s got to know who exactly he’s messing with here” Donnie rolled his eyes at the quarrel and adjusted his glasses, raising them closer to his eyes. Leonardo seemed to be in deep thought for a few seconds before looking at his family again.

“If that’s the case then I want you and Mikey to check it out tomorrow. Me and Raph will deal with Beast, we all know how dramatic he likes to get when he doesn’t get his way” They all knew the last time they messed with Beast, how he threatened to take his money away and leave them bankrupt. Regardless of his filthy money, the turtles were not affected without it.

Years of investing and saving up had allowed them to live luxuriously. They had everything they ever wanted, Beast was just a liability to them. They needed him to increase potential business partners. To be able to stay at the top, they needed to associate with people at the top. If that meant doing business with idiots who couldn’t hold their ground and lacked any sense of morals and values, then so be it.

This was the mafia, after all. Nothing was pretty here.

“He’s clearly trying to inherit the property, why not just kill him altogether” Mikey pointed out, leaning back on his chair but Leo shook his head.

“Too risky. He may be a fool but he’s a smart one. He has plenty of connections with others, much powerful than the ones we have. We’ll keep him on the side but don’t turn your eyes, he will strike when least expected. Once we secure this deal, you can unleash all your anger on him. For now, we stay in his good books. However long that may be” He grimaced at the thought of the meeting they were supposed to have instead of this one. How long the turtle brothers would remain on his good side was unknown but hey, only a few more months of his bullshit and it was home run. The brothers continued to talk about upcoming events and nearing the end of the meeting, they all grabbed their belongings. 

“Wait a sec, Amara’s coming here tomorrow?” Mikey read out the small note on the board and Leo nodded, finishing off his wine. 

“Yes, well technically she’s visiting but we needed some help around here and she agreed to stick around for a while” She was a close friend to the turtles, meeting them after they newly escaped Splinter’s clutches. She had found them at a time when they were barely breathing and even without knowing who they were, she nursed them back to health. They all were indebted to her. Throughout the years, she went back to Italy since her father was part of their own mafia but her loyalty to the turtles never wavered. 

“At least we get ta see a new face ‘round here. But goin’ back ta before, I can’t wait ta finally kill that bastard” Raphael cracked his knuckles, unbuttoning his vest. He never was one to take orders from people, he was incredibly stubborn and arrogant to take commands from someone else. He barely followed Leo’s on a good day, let alone someone who continually threatened him and his family. If it were up-to him, he would have Beast’s head on a silver platter and sent directly to his team 

“All in due time brother. For now, let’s focus on getting our money back and dealing with Beast”

[fairy-spring]

Take to the Skies - 7/?

~.*.~.*.~

I’m sorry this has taken so long to update. I’ve just moved in with my boyfriend, and I’m finally trying to dip my toe back into writing.

~.*.~.*.~

| 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 |

… She was staring again. The little girl with auburn hair and lime green eyes. Link was fairly sure he’d caught her staring quite a few times before. She was the daughter of the city’s top healer, from what he’d heard, which meant she’d pass through here every single day. Normally she’d be here with her father, or at least with a small group of friends. Why was she alone today, of all days?

“Oh, don’t pay her any mind,” Silas scoffed. “No need to be so embarrassed. She likes to watch everyone when they’re training.”

“Why’s that?” Orville questioned, his head tilted to one side. Silas merely rolled his eyes, as if the answer was the simplest thing in the world.

“Because,” he stressed, “we nobles always watch the page boys and the squires while they’re training!”  

Link squinted his eyes as he took in Silas’ words. He wasn’t blind to the goings-on around him, and neither was Orville. They perfectly understood that such things did happen. After all, random members of nobility poked their heads in to observe their shenanigans, well, every day. At least, that was how it felt.

“But why?” he repeated for his friend. “Why do they watch us all the time?”

“Because it’s entertaining to them.” Silas sighed as he shook his head. “Honestly, don’t you bumpkins understand anything?”

Link gritted his teeth, his grip tightening on his wooden sword. The nerve of this kid! They were the exact same age, and here he was acting like he was so much mightier and holier than the both of them! Link was pretty sure pride was a sin; perhaps even the cardinal sin, if memory served him correctly. The blond smirked at the thought, and he opened his mouth to speak.

“Ya know, Si-”

“Hey, can I play too?”

A small dust cloud picked up behind the young lady as she bolted her way over to the trio of boys, catching Link completely off-guard. It was the same little girl who was watching them earlier; auburn hair, big green eyes... She was bouncing up and down on the balls of her little feet, and she hummed to herself as she held her balled-up little fists over either side of her head. Evidently, the girl’s excitement could barely be contained.  

“Huh?!” Orville exclaimed, obviously perplexed by the situation. “L-Little girl, you can’t-!”

“Why, young lady,” Silas interrupted, suddenly bent over in a courteous bow to the redhead. “I’m afraid this isn’t mere play, my dear. This is serious training for knights-to-be, such as myself.”

Link glared daggers at the raven-haired boy, and he scoffed as he crossed his arms. The nerve of this guy, pulling a complete one-eighty like that. He shared a glance with Orville, who could only roll his eyes as Silas continued attempting to sate the little girl’s curiosity and shoo her away. The more he talked, however, the more she pouted, her brow creased and her lips pressed in a firm line.

“But, but, but, but...” She slowly lowered her arms and placed her hands behind her, and she shifted her weight between her feet.

“Besides, don’t you have other young ladies you could play with instead?” Silas smiled warmly, a stark contrast to his usual smarmy smirk. “I’m sure they’re all dying to spend time with you, young lady.”

“They’re all in the chapel with Mother Aleesha,” she whined as she slumped over. “And I can’t go till later!”

“I’m very sorry to hear that... Well, you can always watch, but I’m afraid I can’t let such a fragile young lady get into harm’s way.” Upon saying this, he gestured to Link and Orville, and he let out a soft chuckle. “I fear what would happen if you were to roughhouse with blacksmiths’ sons.”

“Hey!”  

Link thrust his wooden sword towards Silas, in defiance of his backhanded niceties. Silas easily sidestepped the boy and tripped his right leg, sending him spiraling to the ground. With a sigh, the dark-haired boy addressed the little girl again, as if Link was a mere annoyance. Orville scrambled to help his friend off the ground, silently asking if he was alright. The blond could only nod in reply, wiping the dirt off his tunic as he glared once again at the little bastard before them.

“You see what I mean, lady Celine?” Silas shook his head again and reached out his hand for the girl to take. “These boys are so hotheaded, I fear what they’d do to someone so gentle!”

Celine didn’t grab for Silas’ hand, however. Instead, she was staring directly at Link. Almost reflexively, the boy turned his head away. She was about to say something too, huh? No doubt, she was going to scoff or snicker or say something in agreement with Silas, and he’d have to deal with ridicule not just from them, but from the entire circle of nobles in the fortress! The redhead stepped towards him and Orville, and he flinched at the thought of what she’d do.  

However, no ridicule came. No mockery or shame reached his ears. Instead, the girl eyed him sympathetically, and she asked, “Are you okay?”

Link’s eyes widened at her words. Though it was such a simple question, he never would have expected it to come out of a noble; especially after the way Silas had treated the both of them...

“I...” Suddenly, he was lost for words, and he could only bring himself to nod once again, pale blond hair bouncing as he did. Celine was beaming upon seeing his response, and she giggled as she grabbed his abandoned training sword and hopped next to Orville.  

“Then, will you guys play with me?”

Orville was just as baffled as Link, his mouth hung open for a solid couple seconds before he could speak.  

“W... Why are you asking us?” He motioned between himself and his friend, eyes squinted at the little redhead. Clearly, something was up with this girl. “I thought bumpkins were dangerous.”

“Yeah, well, you guys seem like fun!” Her lime-green eyes shined in the light as she beamed at the pair. With an impish giggle, she held the sword out to Link for him to take. “Come on, Forge, don’t you want to play?”

The blond raised his brow in questioning, and he hesitantly accepted the training sword.

“... Forge?”

“Yeah, Forge!” Another giggle from Celine. “You know, because you’re a blacksmith’s son!” She then pointed to Orville, taking the boy aback as he gawked in confusion. “And you’re Smithy!”

“S-Smithy?!”

Orville could barely voice his displeasure with the new nickname, as Celine merely snickered and snatched his own wooden sword from its sheath. The brunet hollered and gave chase to the little girl, fruitlessly swiping his hand out in a poor attempt to take it back. All the while, Celine was gazing intently at Link.

“Come on, Forge, pleeeeease?”  

“I told you, it isn’t play!” Silas suddenly butted in, stepping between her and Orville. He held out a hand to the girl, this time with the expectation for her to return the stolen glorified stick. “My lady, I can’t allow you to get hurt. Please, give it back.”

“Then, will you guys teach me?”

“Absolutely not,” the boy sighed in reply. “A young lady is fair and pure, just like the white goddess. She has no need to get her hands dirty.”

Link rolled his eyes once again. Was this the only reason Silas was so against this? This was for religious reasons?

“Ya know,” the blond started, “ladies around the ranches and the smiths outside the wall have to help their husbands, whether it’s by protecting cattle or firing the coals. Why can’t the lady learn swordplay?”

That alone was enough to get Silas fuming, and Link couldn’t help but smirk at the effect his words had. It looked like the poor noble boy was about ready to burst! It seemed that Celine’s presence was the only thing keeping him from blowing up on Link. Orville was baffled by Link’s remark, his mouth hung open and his hands held in front of him as if asking, “Why?!” The young lady, however, was grinning from ear to ear, clutching Orville’s sword tightly to her chest.

“So, you’ll teach me, Forge?!”

Link looked Silas dead in the eye as he answered Celine.  

“Sure, why not?”

[thebrotherssalvatore321]

Keeping Secrets Ch. 39

Keeping Secrets Masterlist

Pairing: Katie(oc)xKlaus. Warnings: None that I can think of. Let me know if I need to add one.

Katie and Klaus were spending their morning rolling around in bed, giggling and laughing when her phone started ringing. “Ignore it.” he told her between kisses when she looked over at it where it sat on the bedside table.

“It could be important.” She argued as she wiggled out of his grasp and grabbed her phone. She looked at it to see an unknown number and cautiously pressed talk. “Hello?”

“Scarlett, hey it’s me.” a male voice replied.

It took a few seconds for the voice that called her by her middle name to register. “Dad?” she asked, confused.

“Damon called and let me know you were back.” He told her. “I hope it's okay that he gave me your number.”

“Uh, yeah it's fine I’m just…surprised, I guess.” She told him as she pushed herself back to lean against the headboard.

“So I was hoping that we could get together sometime and try that talk again.” He told her.

“I’d like that.” she told him with a small smile as she watched Klaus move to sit beside her.

“I’ll come by your house this Saturday?” he asked, sounding happy.

“Actually the founder’s council has been cracking down on us vampires lately. They’ve even put vervain in the town’s water supply.” She informed him. “So that’s probably not a good idea.”

“Oh, okay.” He sounded disappointed.

“Why don’t I come to you?” she asked in an attempt to save the conversation. “You can text me the address of where you want to meet and I can come whenever.”

“What about school?” he asked with a fatherly disapproving tone.

“I’m homeschooling now.” she told him. “So long as my assignments get emailed to the school, I’m free to do as I wish.”

“Well, you always were independent.” He commented. “So when can I be expecting you?”

“Well, I don’t really have any plans so it’s up to you.” Katie told him feeling awkward.

“The sooner the better.” He told her with a bit of a laugh to his voice.

“I’ll leave tomorrow morning.” She told him.

“I’ll text you the address and see you then.” Her father told her.

“See you then.” Katie echoed back then hung up the phone. A minute later the address of a bar and grill called Rousseau’s was sent to her in a text message.

“So you’re leaving town?” Klaus asked.

“Yep.” She answered and moved around to straddle him. “I promised my mother I would find my dad and talk things out with him. I owe it to her to give him a chance.”

“Would you like me to accompany you?” he asked as he slid his hands up her thighs under the red satin night gown she wore. “New Orleans is after all one of my favorite places in the world.”

“Really?” she asked, a little surprised. “Why? I mean, I know you lived there once, that’s why my father lives there now, but what’s so special about the place?”

“It’s rich in culture. They like to preserve their heritage. There’s also music, art and really good food.” He told her as he slipped his hands down her thighs to rest on her calves.

“Good food?” she asked as she slipped her fingertips over his chest.

“Have you ever had gumbo?” he asked and she shook her head no. “You should try it. I think you’ll like it. So are you going to answer my question?”

She thought about it for a second. “This is something I need to do alone. Besides, you’re needed here…Silas…impending end of the world and all that.” she answered, slipping her finger tips over his chest, drawing nonsensical shapes over his soft skin.

“Do you know how long you’ll be gone?” he asked and the tone of his voice implied he was going to miss her.

“I’ll definitely be back before prom.” She answered. “And I’ll keep in touch.” She kissed him then pulled back and stood up to look at the framed, hand written letters that hung over his bed. “I’ve been meaning to ask you…what’s with the letters?”

“I was wondering when you were going to ask.” He told her and she looked down at him. “They are mementos.” He answered simply a little afraid to tell her they were taken off the dead bodies of his victims.

She noticed they were all love notes. “Did you take them so you can simply relive and revel in the deaths of the people they were taken from or to serve a greater purpose like making you feel something?” she asked, making him look up at her with a frown. “And there goes my nose, poking around where it’s not welcome again.”

“Your perfect little nose is always welcome in my business.” He told her as she sat down beside him. “Your understanding of my mind still catches me off guard once in a while.”

“Caroline told me that Elena said that during Stefan’s humanity-less time in the twenties, he would write the names of his victims on a wall in his apartment.” she admitted. “The only difference between that and this, is the fact that all of those letters were written from one lover to another.” She pointed out and he didn’t say anything back. “You know, vampires talk about the humanity switch like it’s a magical fix all. Damon and Stefan made it sound like all emotions cease to exist, but…even when it was flipped…when I was as numb as I was going to get, and when I really didn’t want it, there was still one emotion that tried to fight its way in.”

“And what emotion was that?” he asked, looking at her across his shoulder, wondering where she was going with this.

“The one more powerful than hurt and hatred.” She answered and looked across her shoulder at him. “Love.” He blinked, giving her the look that said she was once again doing that thing where she decoded and understood the cracks within him, the same cracks she shared. “I guess what I’m so poorly trying to say is…” she pointed up at the letters on the wall above them, “I get it.” she dropped her hand to her lap.

As usual when she did that, since he wouldn’t let himself tell her he loved her, he slid his arm between her back and the headboard and pulled her around to straddle him and pressed his lips to hers in a deep kiss, pouring it all into her. “You are truly one of a kind, Little Phoenix.”

Katie smiled and looked down at his chest letting her mind wander to lighter subjects like prom that was coming up soon. “I have a question.”

“I may have an answer.” He replied as his hands slid down her back to hold her rear.

“If I asked you to let Tyler come home would you?” his face turned hard. “Not for good, just for prom.”

“Katie…” he sighed.

“Please?” she begged giving him her best puppy dog eyes. “Caroline’s my best friend and she is working her butt off to make prom perfect for everybody. Her night should be just as perfect as everyone else’s”

“Fine, but his welcome wears off at eleven.” He told her.

“Oh, come on, prom isn’t even over until ten thirty. At least give them until twelve.” She reasoned.

“No.” he told her flatly.

“Yes.” She argued with a half serious glare.

“No.”

“Klaus…” she drawled his name out warningly.

“Katie…” he mimicked her.

“Please, for me?” She pulled puppy dog eyes again.

“You,” he grabbed her sides and moved her around to lay on her back making her laugh when he tickled her sides and moved to hover over her, “are lucky you’re cute when you’re being demanding.” She slid directly under him and wrapped her legs around his hips. “He better be out of town by twelve or he’s dead.” He told her and she gave him a bright smile.

“Thank you.” she told him, still smiling.

“You’re gonna thank me with more than just words.” He told her with a lustful glare.

“Oh I am, am I?” she asked with a laugh and he hummed. “In a minute.” She told him as she turned on her stomach and slid up to grab her cell phone off the nightstand.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

“Telling Caroline the good news.” She replied as she started texting Caroline. A yelp and a giggle left her lips when he grabbed her ankles and pulled her back to him. As she texted Caroline he peppered her back with kisses seeking out her ticklish spots just to hear her laugh. “Okay, where were we?” she asked as she rolled over and smiled up at him.

After a two hour flight she landed at the airport, hailed a cab and gave the driver the address of Rousseau’s. She texted her father to let him know she was on her way to the bar and grill then texted Klaus to let him know she had landed and arrived safe and sound. When she got the bar and grill and walked in she easily found Bradley sitting at a table near the window. “Scarlett.” He smiled when she walked over and sat down.

“Hi.” She greeted feeling awkward as she hooked her purse over the back of the chair and sat down.

A pretty young brunette waitress with a gap between her two front teeth walked over and took her drink order. “You should try the gumbo.” Bradley spoke up and the waitress looked at Katie. “Sophie here is the best cook in the French Quarter.”

“I don’t know about that, Bradley.” She told him with a flirty smile then looked at Katie.

“Sure.” Katie told Sophie with a nod remembering that Klaus had recommended she try gumbo.

“I’ll get that right out.” Sophie told her then walked away.

“So how have you been?” Bradley asked.

“Good, believe it or not.” She answered, still feeling awkward. “What about you?”

“Better now that I know you’re okay.” His answer pissed her off and he could tell. “Look, I know you probably hate me for leaving you with your grandfather, but I did it to protect you.”

“You thought that leaving me to come here and search for people that haven’t lived in this area for at least a hundred years was protecting me?” she asked, trying her best to contain her anger. He sighed and looked down at the table. Sophie walked over with Katie’s drink and a bowl of gumbo and set them down in front of her. “Did you know you and mom have empty graves in the cemetery?” she asked and he shook his head no. “I grew up telling myself stories about where the two of you disappeared to. That you guys were entered into witness protection and weren’t allowed to come back to me or that your bodies were buried in the woods somewhere or eaten by bears or something. Why didn’t you just come home and be a father to me?”

“Because a vampire was the last thing you needed in your life.” He told her quietly.

“And I call B.S.” she told him then took a sip of her sweet tea. “You, even as you are now, would have been better than Grandfather.”

“I was going to pay him a visit and give him a piece of my mind before I left Mystic Falls, but he wasn’t there.” He told her.

“Yeah that’s because I killed him.” she told him with a straight face and he looked at her, his green eyes wide. “Oh don’t judge me when you’re the one that killed my mother.”

“How were you able to speak with her again?” he asked clearly aggravated that she’d learned that bit of information.

“Bonnie Bennett brought Jeremy Gilbert back from the dead and in doing so cracked the door to the other side open. A witch on the other side wedged it open and let the supernatural spirits be able to interact with our side. For a while we were able to see and feel them. Mom found me and we were able talk before Bonnie fixed the balance.” She explained. “She is the only reason I’m here right now.”

“I’m really sorry I didn’t come for you sooner.” He told her seriously. “Maybe if I had you wouldn’t be what you are now.”

“Which is?” she asked as she picked up her spoon and started stirring the gumbo. It looked disgusting despite its mouth watering smell.

“A vampire…and whatever getting Hannah’s memories has turned you into.” He answered then watched her playing with the gumbo. “Would you just try it already?” he asked with a point to the bowl of chicken and sausage gumbo.

“Fine.” She answered and took a bite. “Holy shit.” She commented as she covered her mouth then swallowed. “That’s really good.”

Her father laughed. “Told you.” things got quiet and she was almost through with her gumbo when he asked, “So how’s everyone back home?”

“Well, let’s see, Sheila Bennett, Mayor douche wad and Carole Lockwood, Caroline’s father, Elena’s parents, her aunt Jenna, Jeremy and John Gilbert aka Elena’s bio dad, along with most of the other council members that got blown up in the pastors farm house are all dead. I’m sure I’m leaving some people out, but that’s all I can think of right now.” she told him. “Oh and Caroline and Elena are vampires too. Other than that there’s the impending threat of hell on earth being unleashed, but that’s another story for another time.”

“Wow.” He said, taking time to let it sink in. After a few minutes he blinked out of his thoughts. “So you said you’ve met all of the originals?”

“Yep, even momma and poppa original.” She answered.

“And you live to tell about it.” he observed.

“What can I say, the Mikaelson siblings like me.” she told him with a shrug.

“A little too much if you ask me.” he commented.

She rolled her eyes and looked up at him. “Please tell me you’re not still mad that Elijah and I found each other.”

“My family, your ancestors, devoted their lives to keeping the reincarnations from remembering Elijah.” He told her with a glare.

“I’m sorry, the reincarnations?” she asked with a frown and a shake of her head as she pushed her bowl away from her.

“You think you’re the first of Hannah’s reincarnation attempts?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

“Uh, yeah, I don’t remember any lives other than Hannah and this one.” She answered, completely confused.

“That’s because the reincarnations were never allowed to live past their sixth birthday.” She just stared at him. “Legend has it that Jonah was so disgusted with what his mother had done that he killed his daughter to keep her from turning into his mother…to keep her from suffering at the hands of the Mikealson men.” he explained. “Every Finnegan female was either killed at birth or just before her sixth birthday. I couldn’t kill you so I did my best to protect you. I had Sheila block your memories and after I turned I didn’t come back because if I did it was more likely, with a vampire in your life, that you would become one and break the dam in your mind. I hoped that you would live and die as Katie, never becoming Hannah. I hoped it would break the cycle and free the women of our family.”

After a few minutes of letting it all sink in she sighed and looked up from her empty bowl to her father. “Then I guess I should thank you for not killing me and tell you that the cycle is broken.” he frowned in confusion. “I’m no longer linked to or with Elijah.”

“Really?” he asked with raised brows.

“Yep, the link broke when my soul shattered.” She answered.

“So you’re free of the Mikaelson’s?” he asked.

“Um…” she pulled one side of her mouth up and squinted an eye. “I guess you could say that?” she scratched the back of her neck uncomfortably.

“What does that mean?” he asked a little confused.

“Klaus and I are kind of…together.” She answered.

“Klaus is not an acceptable partner for anyone, much less my little Scarlett.” He told her.

She scoffed and before he could say anything, a guy who looked to be in his mid to late twenties with espresso skin and nice eyes, walked over to them and slapped his hand down on Bradley’s shoulder. “Who, may I ask, is this lovely lady?” he asked, giving Katie a bright, charming smile.

“My daughter, Scarlett.” Bradley answered. “Scarlett, this is Marcel.”

Katie gave Marcel a wave and a polite smile assuming that he was the same Marcel that turned her father. “I hate to pull you away from your family reunion, but we have business to attend to.” Marcel told Bradley.

“Alright.” Bradley told Marcel who walked off giving the father and daughter time to bid each other goodbye. “How long are you planning on staying in town?”

“I’m flying back in the morning.” She answered. “Prom is coming up soon.”

“What time is your flight?” he asked.

“Seven thirty.” She answered.

“We’ll meet here for breakfast at six?” he asked and she nodded. “See you in the morning.” He told her and she gave him a smile and a wave and watched him leave with Marcel.

“Refill?” Sophie asked as she walked over with a pitcher of tea in her hand. Katie slid her empty glass to the edge of the table. “Would you like more gumbo?”

“No, but it was delicious.” She answered then gave Sophie a smile as she picked up her glass of tea. “Thank you.”

She was still sitting there, sipping on her tea, fiddling with her necklace, thinking about everything she and her father had discussed when Sophie walked by with a sizzling plate of fajitas and her stomach flipped. She frowned and ran to the bathroom with her hand over her mouth and barely made it into the stall before her gumbo came back up. “The hell was in that gumbo?” Katie sighed as she shut the toilet lid and flushed it.

“It wasn’t the gumbo.” She heard Sophie say from outside the stall. “You’re tea, however, had a very powerful mixture of herbs in it. A roofie…kind of.”

Katie pushed the stall door open and turned on the sink. “You’re a witch.”

“Yep.” Sophie answered.

“I’ve seen a witch roofie in action, the dude didn’t get sick.” Katie said as she cupped her hand under the stream of water and rinsed out her mouth.

“Yeah that’s not the roofie, that’s morning sickness.” Sophie told her watching her grow weaker and weaker.

“That would imply…that I’m pregnant. I’m a vampire, I…can’t…” she passed out.

Sophie watched her fall then knocked on the door letting Jane-Ann, her sister inside. “This is stupid, and risky, you know that right?”

“We will talk about this later, for now we have to get her out of here without being seen.” Jane-Ann told her.

TVDTVDTVD

Katie woke up in a cabin in the woods, crickets and frogs could be heard outside. “Where am I?” she groaned as she sat up in the cot she was laying on.

“The bayou.” Sophie told her.

“Why?” she asked with a glare.

“Because like it or not, you’re pregnant with Klaus Mikaelson’s child.” Sophie answered reminding Katie what she’d told her before she passed out.

“It’s not possible, I’m a vampire. We can’t have kids.” She sighed, feeling ill. “How would you know anyway. You’re a witch not a doctor.”

“I’m a witch with a gift of telling when a woman is pregnant. I sensed it as soon as you walked into the restaurant.” She told her.

Katie, sure that Sophie was wrong, got quiet and listened. At first she only heard Sophie’s heartbeat and her own, but eventually she heard a small, fast heartbeat and slid her hand over her lower abdomen. “Holy freaking hell…”

“Congratulations?” Sophie asked awkwardly.

“How the hell is this possible?” Katie asked, sounding like she was in shock.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Sophie shrugged.

“So what do you want with me? Why kidnap me and bring me out to the middle of nowhere?” Katie asked, trying to think about something other than what Klaus was going to have to say about this or the thousand other questions that were running through her head.

“Marcel has been keeping my people under his thumb, but now we have you.” Katie shook her head not understanding. “Your boyfriend is famous in this town. Witches tell bedtime stories about the vampire Klaus. Marcel was nothing but an orphaned street rat until he made him what he is. Now he’s out of control. He does what he wants. He kills who he wants. We’re gonna stop him and you’re gonna help us.”

“And how am I supposed to do that? I don’t even know you people.” Katie asked with a scoff. Jane-Ann walked in. “Who are you?”

“My name’s Jane-Ann.” She answered. “And to answer your question, you’re going to get Klaus here and you’re going to get him to help us.”

“What makes you think I have any control over Klaus?” Katie asked with a glare.

“Because he’s been texting you every hour on the hour for the past day and a half.” Sophie answered holding up Katie’s cell phone. “A guy doesn’t do that unless he’s worried and people only worry when they care.”

“Prom is today.” Katie sighed realizing how stupid that sounded since she just found out that she’s pregnant.

“Yeah, Caroline’s been texting incessantly about that.” Sophie told her. “I’m sorry but you’re going to have to miss it.”

“I gathered as much.” Katie scoffed.

“We need to get started, Soph.” Jane-Ann said.

TVDTVDTVD

After performing a million different witchy tests on her Sophie tossed Katie a clear blue pregnancy test. “Just for shits and giggles. The outhouse is that way.” She told her with a point outside.

“Watch your language Soph.” Jane-Ann scolded her little sister as Katie stood up and went outside.

After taking the pregnancy test she put the cap back on it and watched as the word pregnant showed up on the screen. She headed back inside and showed it to them, then tucked it into her pocket. “How the hell is this even possible?” Katie asked herself more than them.

“Did I hear you tell Bradley that your soul shattered?” Jane-Ann asked, having been at the bar while Katie and her father chatted.

“Yeah, why?” Katie asked as if it were no big deal.

“No one, witch, human, vampire or wolf has ever come back from that before.” Jane-Ann answered. “We have no records of what that can do to someone.”

“Even still, that doesn’t explain Klaus’s roll in this.” Katie pointed out.

“He’s a hybrid, magic made him a vampire, but he was born a werewolf and is the first of his kind. Nature is full of loopholes.” Jane-Ann explained.

“Awesome.” Katie sighed and fell back to lie on the cot hoping to go to sleep and wake up from this nightmare.

TVDTVDTVD

After making sure Tyler was out of town Klaus returned to his mansion to find a note, left for him by Katherine. “Klaus, I hear Elijah has refused you the cure and in return you have refused me my freedom. Shame on you both. But while you boys sort out your problems, I have one last thing to offer you. I’ve caught wind that there is a witch in New Orleans named Jane-Anne Deveraux holding your precious Katie hostage. Hunt her down. What she has to tell you about Katie will rattle you so deeply to your core that chasing little old me will be the least of your concerns. It’s been a fun five centuries, Klaus, but I’ve worn down too many good heels running from you. Love and hate, Katerina.”

Klaus dropped everything, packed a bag and bought a plane ticket to New Orleans.

TVDTVDTVD

Twenty four hours later Katie sat on a wooden bench in a tomb in the middle of a cemetery in New Orleans. “We can talk freely here.” Katie heard Sophie say. She also heard another set of feet walking with Sophie.

“Then I suggest you start talking.” Elijah’s voice made Katie perk up, just happy to hear a familiar voice. “What did your sister want with Niklaus?” Katie tried to leave the tomb, but a couple of witches stepped in her way.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sophie asked. “We have a vampire problem, and we need help. Marcel has an army backing him. The witches have been trying to fight back, but we haven’t had much luck. Until my sister, Jane-Anne and I met a girl, a vampire girl passing through the quarter from a small town in Virginia, the daughter of one of Marcel’s day walkers. She has a special…connection to your brother.” Sophie explained to him. “By the look on your face I’m guessing you know who she is.”

“What do you want with Katie?” he asked, his tone guarded.

“Wait, are we talking about the same girl? Bradley called her Scarlett.” Sophie asked.

“Scarlett is her middle name.” Elijah answered growing impatient.

“She’s pregnant and the father of the child she’s carrying is your brother, Klaus.” Sophie told him.

“That’s impossible.” Katie could hear the shock in his voice.

“Nothing’s impossible, especially not when it comes to a hybrid and the first being to ever recover from a shattered soul.” Sophie explained. “Let her out.” She called.

The men stepped aside and Katie whooshed out of the tomb, stopping in her tracks when her eyes landed on Elijah, looking at her with narrowed eyes.

He looked at Sophie, “Give us a moment please.” Sophie nodded and jerked her head for the witches to leave them be. Elijah put his hand on Katie’s lower back and led her into the tomb where she sat back down straddling the bench. He started pacing. “So it’s true?” he asked and she nodded. “Have they been holding you here against your will?”

“They witch roofied me, brought me out to the bayou and did all these witchy tests.” She told him then pulled the pregnancy test out of her pocket. “But even the plain old clear blue confirmed it.” She showed him the word pregnant on the test. “I thought it was just a really weird dream at first, but this is really happening…I’m really pregnant.” She tapped the test on the bench, attempting to hold back her tears, then tucked it back into the pocket of her jeans.

Elijah sat down and pulled a leg up on the bench to face her and cupped her cheek in his hand making her eyes slip shut for a second. “How are you dealing with this?”

“I’m shaking in my freaking boots.” She answered, tapping the toe of her shoe down into the tile floor of the tomb. “What if he doesn’t want it…or me?” she asked with a shaking voice. “I can’t do this alone.”

“You are not in this alone.” He assured her. “I do not believe he would turn his back on you.” He wiped her tears away. “Niklaus has never truly been happy, but I believe that you and this baby can achieve the impossible and save him from himself.”

Katie grabbed his wrist and moved his hand from her face. “No pressure or anything.”

“That wasn’t my intent.” He told her apologetically.

“No, I know.” She assured him. “I’m just…a little overwhelmed, I guess.”

“Katie I know I’ve broken my promises to you in the past, but I need you to trust me when I say that no harm will come to you or this baby if I can help it.” he brushed her loose hair behind her ear and rested his hand on the side of her neck.

She took his hand off her and held it in both of hers. “I’m trusting you, please don’t make me regret it again.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” He told her seriously.

She took a deep breath and let go of his hand. “We have to convince the witches to let me tell Klaus about the baby. It’s my business to tell, not theirs.”

“Request heard and granted.” Sophie told her as she walked in.

“What precisely is it that you want and what does it have to do with Katie?” Elijah asked as he stood up and walked over to Sophie.

“We want to run Marcel and his vampires out of town. Klaus is the key. Everything Marcel knows about being a vampire he learned from Klaus. Marcel trusts him, looks up to him. He won’t see the betrayal coming.” Sophie answered.

“Yes. Well, I’m sure you’re aware, my brother Niklaus doesn’t like to be told what to do.” Elijah told her and Katie found that she still liked to listen to Elijah talk.

“Marcel drove the werewolves out of town decades ago. Do you really think he’s going to welcome a hybrid baby to the neighborhood?” Katie placed a hand protectively over her stomach at Sophie’s words. “Convince Klaus to help us and no one has to know about the newest member of the original family.”

“That sounds remarkably like blackmail.” Elijah told her.

“Like I said, I’m desperate.” Sophie told him with a hard voice and face.

“Well, then. We have our work cut out for us don’t we?” Elijah asked with a look back at Katie.

TVDTVDTVD

“What are we doing here?” Katie had been sitting on the bench in the tomb, bouncing her foot nervously since Elijah left to find Klaus. When she heard the younger brother’s voice she stood up.

“You want to know where Katie is and what the witches have in store for you?” Elijah asked rhetorically. “Follow me.”

A few seconds later Elijah and Klaus walked into the empty tomb to see Katie standing in front of the bench with her head held high, doing a good job of covering up how much she was freaking out inside. “Before you get mad, I haven’t been ignoring your texts and calls. The witches took my phone.”

“Are you alright?” he asked as he walked in and slid his hand over her cheek as he pressed his lips to hers. She savored the moment, knowing that after she told Klaus that she was pregnant it may very well be the last time he kissed her.

When the kiss broke she looked around Klaus to Elijah, “Leave us, please?” she could tell he didn’t want to, but he gave her a nod and walked out of the tomb. “I have been wrecking my brain trying to find the right words to tell you this, but I can’t. So I need you to do me a favor.” She told him and he blinked at her as she took his hands in hers and held them to her chest. “Close your eyes and listen.” He rolled his eyes at her as if she were being silly. “Just…do it please.”

He closed his eyes and listened to everything around him. She knew he’d heard the baby’s heartbeat when he took in a deep breath, his eyes shot open and he jerked his hands from hers as if he’d been burned.

“How is this possible?” He whispered looking into her eyes as a tear slipped down his cheek. He wanted the baby, she could see it in his eyes, but if he was willing to let himself have it, to have happiness, she couldn’t tell.

“I am the first known person to come back from a shattered soul and you are a hybrid, the first of your kind. Apparently nature loves loopholes.” She told him quietly to hide the fear in her voice. After a few minutes of silence passed it became too much for her to handle. “I feel like I’m about to have a panic attack, please say something.”

“What do the witches want with you?” he asked, not putting her mind at ease.

“They want you to overthrow Marcel and get them out from under his control.” She answered.

“Why should I?” he asked with a hard face.

Before Katie could answer, Sophie and a few other witches walked into the tomb. Elijah walked over and stood next to Klaus and Katie moved to his other side, looking at the three witches blocking them into the tomb. “Because my sister gave her life to perform the spell that put the lives of this girl and her baby in our control. If you do not help us take down Marcel…so help me Katie won’t live long enough to see her first maternity dress.”

“Whoa, hey, you’re threatening me?” Katie asked shocked at what she’d just learned. “I’ve never been anything but cooperative with you people.”

“We appreciate that, but we aren’t so sure he’ll be as understanding.” Sophie told her with a hard face and a point at Klaus.

“Enough of this.” Elijah told Sophie, “If you want Marcel dead he’s dead. I’ll do it myself.”

“No. We can’t. Not yet.” Sophie argued. “We have a clear plan that we need to follow and there are rules.”

“Sophie can you guys just back the hell off and give us a minute please?” Katie asked and Sophie gave her a look that asked, seriously? “Just a few minutes then you can get back to your threats, blackmail and bullshit.”

“Fine, but just a few.” She nodded and motioned for the witches to leave and followed them out.

With them gone Katie sank down on the bench and placed her head in her hands with a heavy breath. “This is a trick.” Klaus growled being his usual paranoid self.

“No, brother, it’s a gift. It’s your chance. It’s our chance.” Elijah argued.

“You know I would never lie to you. Or is our trust really that one sided?” Katie asked as she stood from the bench and walked over to him.

“It’s not one sided.” He told her with watery eyes.

“Good, then do me a favor and put the witches out of your mind for a second. You haven’t said and I need to know. Do you want this baby?” When a tear betrayed her she quickly wiped it away.

He stared at her for a minute then said one word, “No.”

It felt as if someone snatched the air from her lungs and a pain shot through her chest. She wanted to break down, cry and let it all out, but she wouldn’t let him see how much he affected her. So she held her head high. “I call bullshit.” she told him in a quiet yet strong voice. “I know you want this baby, you want us. I saw it in your eyes.” she didn’t bother wiping her tears away this time. “You made hybrids because you wanted a new family. Well,” she held her hands out to the side, “you’ve got one standing right in front of you. All you have to do is say the word and we’re yours.”

“Listen to her, Niklaus.” Elijah spoke up making Katie look at him then back at Klaus.

“You once told me that Elijah was my first love and you intended to be my last. If you reject this baby again, that will never happen.” His lips drew together, pursed in defiance. “So, I’ll ask one more time. Do you want this baby?”

He leaned down and looked her in the eyes, “No.” he saw hurt flash in them then turn into a blazing fire that he hated seeing directed at him. He thought she was going to hit him, but she didn’t.

Instead she grabbed the silver pendant hanging around her neck in her fist and jerked. Elijah watched her grab Klaus’s hand, put the necklace in his palm and closed it. “Thank you.” he gave her a questioning look. “For reminding me that love…is for children and fools.” She shoved his hand and turned her back on him, leaving the tomb.

One of the witches thought she was trying to leave the cemetery and grabbed her arm. She grabbed his wrist, knocked him to his knees and twisted his arm behind his back, almost breaking it. “You lay a hand on me again and it will no longer be attached to your body.” She shoved him to the ground then looked at Sophie, “Proceeded with the blackmail and bullshit, I’ve gotten the only answer I cared about.” She walked over to the steps of another tomb and sat down on them, crossing her arms over her knees, rested her head on them.

Katie zoned out and lost track of how much time had passed before she felt someone touch her shoulder and she looked up to see that it was Sophie. “Come on.” She jerked her head back to the tomb. “Klaus and Elijah are gone for now, but I’m sure Elijah will be back.” Katie just nodded and stood up.

TVDTVDTVD

Katie sat on the wooden bench in the tomb listening to the witches talk about how Marcel and his vampires were out of control when one of them asked, "What makes you think you can control the hybrid?"

"She can't." Elijah spoke up and everyone looked to see him leaning against the doorway of the tomb. "I'm not entirely certain I can either." He pushed himself off the wall and walked into the tomb. "But now that your coven has drawn his ire, I have a question. What prevents my brother from murdering you instead of cooperating?"

Sophie walked over to the wall of the tomb and grabbed a straw doll off of a shelf. She took a needle out of it and poked her hand. Katie winced and looked at a spot of blood that pooled in her palm. "Are you freaking kidding me? She linked me to you!?" Katie asked angrily.

"Yep. Anything that happens to me, happens to you." Sophie told her then looked at Elijah. "Which means her life is in my hands. If she so much as sets a foot out of this town I will be able to tell." Katie gritted her teeth with flared nostrils. "Klaus may not care about his own child, but it's very clear what it already means to you. If I have to hurt Katie or worse to ensure that I have your attention, I will."

Elijah took a step closer to Sophie. "You would dare threaten an original?"

"I have nothing to lose." Sophie answered. "You have until midnight to get Klaus to change his mind."

Elijah turned and left the tomb.

TVDTVDTVD

Katie was sitting outside the tomb, getting fresh air when she heard the midnight bell toll then let her head fall back. She was staring up at the sky, waiting for the witches to come kill her when she heard someone walking up and looked up to see Elijah carrying a body wrapped in light brown linen. Curious, she followed him inside the tomb. “Klaus does not care about the child.” She heard Agnes, one of the witch elders say.

“I do.” Elijah spoke up getting their attention. “And I bring proof of my intent to help you. The body of your fallen friend.” He kneeled down and placed the body on the floor. “Which I procured from Marcel himself.”

“Jane-Anne.” Sophie sighed and fell to the floor beside her dead sister.

“May she be granted peace.” Elijah told them. “Klaus will agree to your terms.” They all looked at him. “I just need a little more time.”

“You’ve had your time. It’s passed.” Agnes argued.

“Shut up, Agnes.” One of the other witches spoke up and moved to stand next to Sophie.

“For now, accept the deal.” Elijah told them. “Katie and the child remain unharmed, or Klaus will kill you all” He turned and started walking away, but stopped and turned back to look at the witches. “And I will help him.”

TVDTVDTVD

The next morning Katie was brought back to the cemetery. “When can I have my cell phone back?” she asked as she walked in and sat down on the bench. “I’m bored out of my mind.”

Sophie pulled Katie’s phone out of her back pocket and held it up. “You can’t tell anyone about your pregnancy.”

“Duh.” Katie commented and Sophie slapped the phone into Katie’s palm. “Thank you.”

She was going through her texts from Caroline, Klaus and Bonnie when Elijah and Sophie walked in. “Klaus has agreed to help us. You’re free to go, but don’t even think about leaving town. If you do, I’ll sense it and kill both of us.”

“Ten four, rubber ducky.” Katie sighed sarcastically as she pushed herself from the bench and walked over to Elijah. When they got out of the cemetery she asked, “So, how’d you get him to agree?”

Elijah opened the passenger door of his car for her. “Unlike you I didn’t give up on him.” he answered as she slid inside and he shut the door.

“I didn’t give up on him. I’m just done wasting my breath begging people to give a shit about me.” she replied not looking at him as he cranked the car and started driving.

“Do you really think he doesn’t care about you?” he asked and she just shrugged. “He cares, Katie.”

“Yeah, well, he has a funny way of showing it.” she scoffed.

“He is scared.” Elijah defended.

“And I’m not?” she asked, raising her voice.

“You’ve been a parent before. You know how to love unconditionally. Klaus doesn’t because he’s never experienced it.” Elijah reminded her.

“Can we just…stop talking about this, please?” she asked, getting aggravated.

“Of course.” He drove her out of the city and to a plantation house. “Welcome to your new home.” He parked outside the huge two story white house with large columns, black shutters and a black door.

“Well, it’s a lot better than a tomb or a swamp.” She commented then got out of the car.

After he let her inside and gave her a tour, she picked a room with a window seat and pulled the dust covers off of the bed and the rest of the furniture.

She was sitting on the window seat, her back to the door and her head leaned on the wall, looking outside when she heard someone walk up behind her. A bouquet of six red roses appeared in front of her face and she recognized the hand holding them as Klaus’s. She took them, held her hand out to the side then dropped them to the floor. She heard him sigh then a pint of strawberry ice cream and a spoon appeared in front of her. She took it and he thought she was going to drop it too, but she stood from the bench and left the room. He followed her down stairs to the kitchen where she pulled open the icebox that was made to blend with the white cabinets and stuck it in the freezer. When she turned around he gave her a curious look. “I don’t believe in wasting perfectly good ice cream.”

She walked around the island and had to pass him on the way to the door, but he gently grabbed her arm, stopping her from walking away from him. “Please accept my apology.”

“I have yet to hear one.” She pointed out as she took her arm from his grasp.

“I’m sorry.” He told her quietly. “I…”

“Acted like a pig headed dick.” She filled in for him since he couldn’t find the words.

“That’s putting it lightly.” He told her with a nod.

She took in a slow, deep breath then heaved it out, walked back over to the icebox, grabbed the ice cream and the spoon she’d tossed into the empty sink at one end of the island and set the container on the counter across from where Klaus stood on the other side. “I’m really going to miss alcohol…” she stabbed the spoon into the pink frozen treat and took a bite. “I’m sorry too.” She admitted then swallowed. “I shouldn’t have cornered you with an ultimatum like that.”

“How long have you known?” he asked instead of acknowledging her apology.

“I found out not long after I got here. I was hanging out at Rousseau’s after my dad left with Marcel when Sophie walked by with a plate of Fajitas. The smell made me sick and let me tell you, Sophie’s gumbo was freaking awesome, but after it came back up I don’t think I’ll ever be able to even smell it again.” He smirked at her confession, a little happy she had taken his advice and had gumbo. “That was right before I passed out from the witch roofie Sophie put in my tea.”

“Does your father know?” he asked.

“As far as he knows I skipped the breakfast we planned and left without saying goodbye.” She told him. “And I’d like to keep it that way. Bredley is one of Marcel’s day walkers. Marcel sired him and I don’t know where his loyalties lie.” She took one last bite of ice cream then put the top back on it, stuck it in the freezer and washed, dried and put away her spoon. “Speaking of Marcel, can I ask what history you have with him and this city? I know you guys had to leave in 1919, but that’s about it.”

“My family and I practically ran this town. Marcel was just an unnamed boy, a slave, when I found him, named him and took him under my wing.” He told her as he walked around the island to stand across from her where she leaned her hip against the counter. “I made Marcel everything that he is. I loved him like a son, and when my father chased me and my family from here a hundred years ago we believed Marcel was killed. We each mourned him in our own way. Yet when I returned, I found not only had he survived he had thrived. Instead of seeking us out, instead of sticking together as one, he made a choice to take everything my family had built and make it his own. Now he is living in our home. He is sleeping in our beds. There’s an M he stamps everywhere but it doesn’t stand for Marcel, it’s for Mikaelson. I want it all back. I want to be king.”

“And this baby and I…Do we have a place in this kingdom of yours?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Every king needs a queen by his side.” he replied as he slid his hand over the side of her neck. “And an heir to his throne.” He leaned into her and pressed his forehead to hers, looking her in the eyes. “Stand with me, be my queen?” he asked and she pulled her head back as he pulled her necklace out of his pocket, the clasp now fixed.

“Let me hear you say it…out right, no talk of kingdoms.” She told him, not giving in to him yet.

His mouth opened to say something but he closed it. She nodded and tried to turn her back on him to walk away, but he grabbed her arm and spun her around, catching her lips with his. It took a few seconds before she let herself kiss him back. When it broke he pressed his forehead to hers. “I want you…both of you.” She gave him a small smile as she gathered up her loose auburn waves and lifted them as she turned her back on him. He put the necklace back around her neck. “And I never want to see this necklace leave your neck again.”

“Good, because I never want to take it off again.” She told him as she slid her fingertips over the smooth metal then put her hand on his cheek. “I’ll be your queen or your little phoenix or…whatever you want to call me.” she smiled to herself more than him. “You’ve really got to stop giving me nicknames.”

He chuckled, happy they were back on good terms. “The nicknames are endless because you…” he grabbed her hips and picked her up, setting her on the island next to the sink, “are my everything.” His words knocked the breath out of her in a good way this time. After taking in a deep, forced breath she caught his lips with hers and the kiss quickly turned heated and a moan left her lips as she pulled him closer with her legs. A sigh left his lips as she started kissing his neck.

She was kissing his lips and about to grab the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head when she heard someone clear their throat. Klaus stopped kissing her and rolled his eyes as they both looked at Elijah, leaning against the door frame. “I see you two made up.” Katie unwrapped her legs from Klaus’s waist.

“We were working on it.” Klaus answered with a smirk that Elijah ignored and made Katie look at the floor with a blush.

“Is it done?” Elijah asked Klaus, making Katie look up at them, confused.

“As a matter of fact, yes.” Klaus answered. “Your underhanded deal worked quite well. Marcel was only too happy to accept my blood, even as he accepted my heartfelt apologies. His man Thierry yet lives and I remain a welcome guest in the French quarter. My only concern now is this coven of impudent witches.”

“You do know I’m linked to Sophie right?” Katie asked Klaus who gave her an interested look. “If she dies I die and while I will come back, the baby might not.”

“I believe them to be honorable though.” Elijah spoke up. “They did release Katie to me, although they haven’t been entirely forthcoming. Marcel obviously has something that they need. They don’t want him dead. There must be a reason why.”

Out of nowhere a wave of nausea rolled over Katie sending her rushing to the bathroom. She was flushing the toilet when Elijah asked, “Are you okay?”

“Ugh.” She responded and rested her forehead on the toilet seat knowing it was clean since they’d just moved into the house. “Please look away.” She groaned.

Instead he walked inside, grabbed a washcloth, wet it and rang it out. “You forget this isn’t the first time I’ve seen you sick.” He pointed out as he handed her the cloth. She took it and his offered hand when he offered it.

He pulled her up. “I didn’t forget. I caught the flu back in Ireland and wouldn’t let you give me your blood.” she remembered then wiped her face and mouth and rinsed the cloth out and draped it over the faucet. “Why was that again?”

“You said it was a human experience that you needed to get through so that you wouldn’t get sick again.” He reminded her.

“And Jonah ever so politely told me I was being stupid.” She said as she put her hand on the counter and leaned on it.

“You were running a fever and not thinking straight.” he added. “Jonah convinced me to heal you while you were sleeping.”

“And I thanked you for it when I woke up.” She gave him a small smile. “At least this time you don’t have to pick stew chunks out of my insanely tight curls.”

“I didn’t have to do it then.” He pointed out with a small smile of his own, reminding her that he did it because he loved her, not because he had to. “And if I may…” he grabbed the rag and rinsed it out then wiped at a spot of puke on her cheek that she’d missed. When he was done he tossed the rag into the dirty clothes hamper behind her.

“So,” Katie started realizing that reminiscing wasn’t the best idea, “Where did you go after I woke up and you left Mystic Falls?” she asked, as she hopped up to sit on the bathroom counter, wanting to stick close to the toilet in case she got sick again.

“I’m surprised Niklaus hasn’t already told you.” he told her as he leaned back on the wall across from her in the small guest bathroom. She just looked at him and shrugged. He narrowed his eyes, thinking about not telling her. “Katherine contacted me and said she had the cure. She thought we could be of mutual use to one another.”

Katie bit her lips closed and narrowed her eyes back at him. “You were with her, with her weren’t you?”

“Katie I-” he started

“Stop, rewind and forget I asked. It’s none of my business.” She interrupted him. “I told you we needed to move on. So you moved on just like I did.”

“I tried to move on.” He corrected her. “It did not work.”

She wanted to ask why. A small part of her wanted to know if he couldn’t move on because he was still hung up on her, but another… much bigger part dedicated to Klaus, didn’t care. “Good.” She saw curiosity flash behind his pretty brown eyes. “You can do better than the colossal bitch that is Katherine Pierce. Now,” she hopped down off the bathroom counter and walked over to the bathroom door, “if you don’t mind I really need to shower.”

She was getting out of the shower when she heard the all too familiar sound of Elijah in pain. With a whoosh she wrapped the towel around herself and went to where she’d heard the sound only to find an empty room. She went back to her room and got dressed then started searching the house. After an hour she found a hidden room containing coffins, one of which reminded her of her bedroom in Klaus’s house in Mystic Falls. She noticed Elijah’s coffin missing and after searching the room thoroughly she found two silver daggers.

TVDTVDTVD

She was removing dust cloths from some of the furniture out of the need to do something when she heard the front door open and close. Klaus heard her and found here. “Where’s Elijah?” she asked flatly.

“Exactly where he needs to be.” Klaus answered and did that thing where he looked down his nose at her.

“Where he needs to be is here, with us, but he’s not.” She replied, her nostrils flaring a bit. “I searched this house over and do you know what I found?” she asked rhetorically as she closed the space between them and glared up at him. “Daggers and coffins…one of each missing and one coffin that looked suspiciously like it could me mine.” He sighed and blinked at her. “Start. Explaining.”

“The white coffin is yours.” he told her and she took in an angry breath, but kept her mouth shut. “I had it custom made when I thought you were dying and I haven’t been able to convince myself to get rid of it. I have no intention of ever seeing you in it.”

She had to admit, he was smart to lead with that. She found it touching that he’d had a coffin custom made for her to be buried in style…or on the even creepier side, kept with him in style. But she shook herself out of her thoughts and put the glare back on her face. “Get to the part where you tell me where Elijah’s at.”

“He was a weakness. Marcel was nervous. It was bad enough that one original returned to town, but two… His crew was getting antsy. He wanted Elijah gone. So I gave him a peace offering.” She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “I have a plan to keep you safe. Gain Marcel’s trust, dismantle his empire, and see to it that our baby is born into an environment free of wolf hating vampires and witches threatening to kill you.” He cupped her face in his hands. “I am taking care of you the only way I know how.” She gently grabbed his wrists and took his hands from her face. “Katie…”

“We will continue this conversation after I calm down.” she told him with a tight voice and a hard look. He let her walk away.

She was sitting at the dining table and had finished off the ice cream that Klaus had bought her when he dared to show his face to her again. She didn’t say a word as she watched him pull out a chair and sit down across from her. “Calm yet?”

“As much as I’m gonna get.” She answered, then tossed the spoon into the empty container and pushed it to the side. “Elijah’s not a weakness or a bargaining chip. He’s an asset. With that being said, tell me the full truth. You didn’t dagger him just because of Marcel, did you?”

Klaus sighed and looked down at the table then back up at her. “Contrary to his escapades with Katerina he is still in love with you, Katie.” She gritted her teeth. “I heard the two of you, reminiscing over a time when it was him taking care of you.”

“New flash,” she started with an attitude, “We have seven years of memories together and from time to time those memories are going to resurface. Yes, I look back on them fondly as I’m sure he does too, and yes I still love him, but I am not in love with him and he is not the Mikealson brother I want. You are and you know it.” He nodded, letting her know he understood and the look in his eyes told her he was sorry. “The reason he is an asset is because the old saying, it takes a village to raise a child is incredibly true. Parents are the most important people in a child’s life, but they also need aunts and uncles, people that round out their world. If you keep daggering our village this child doesn’t stand a chance.”

“It will take time, but I will find a way to get him back.” he told her quietly.

“Good.” She stood up and walked around the table to lean her hips against it and look down at him. “And if I’m not mistaken, don’t kings usually keep their queens informed on battle plans?” she asked, with an arched brow.

A small smile pulled at the corners of his lips as he clasped his hands in front of him with his elbows resting on the arms of the dining chair. “I will also do a better job of keeping you in the loop.”

“Thank you.” she told him with a nod and he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her over to stand in front of him and rested his head on her stomach. They both got quiet for a moment, listening to the fast beat of the baby’s heart. “Is there anything you wish to ask of me?” she asked knowing that he was used to doing what he wanted when he wanted and now he was having to accommodate her.

He picked his head up and looked up at her. “As much as I want to show you New Orleans I need you to stay here.” he told her. “If your father sees you out and about in the quarter he’ll start asking questions. As you’ve already pointed out he is part of Marcel’s inner circle. You need to remain a secret.”

“And if my father runs into you in the quarter?” she asked. “He knows we’re together. He’ll want to know where I am.”

“You went on a pre-graduation road trip. Last I heard you were in Chicago.” He told her.

“That actually sounds like something I would do and answers why I’m not in Mystic falls in case he went looking for me. It’s a given that my friends back in Mystic Falls can’t know the truth either huh?” she asked and he nodded, knowing she would hate lying to her friends. “Then they get the same story.” she agreed. “But if I’m going to be locked away in here I’m going to need a few things.”

“Like what?” he asked curiously.

“Internet, a laptop and a three in one printer.” She answered. “Even if I can’t make it to graduation I fully intend on getting my diploma and I have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Your wish is my command.” He told her with a closed lipped smile.

“As yours is mine.” She told him then placed her hands on the arms of the chair and leaned down, looking him in the eyes. “Thank you.” She pecked him on the lips and he smiled.

[littlemoondarlingarts]

Unfortunately it happened

A short story about two of my ocs that I've been writing for a while, please read the trigger warnings carefully before proceeding to the story.

Genre: magical realism with hints of psychological horror.

Word count: 4293 words.

Tw: Abuse, domestic abuse, past abuse, ptsd, hallucinations, claustrophobic scenes, blood, glass shards, mild sexual scene, possible sexual assault, disrespecting the boundaries of an autistic child, abandonment issues.

If there are any more possible trigger warnings that I didn't write, please let me know.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The thick warm blood irregularly dripped onto the rotting floor as Theodore tried to wrestle out the large glass shard that was lodged deep in his skull. He knew that pulling it out would only cause him to bleed more, but he had no other choice, his body just wouldn't heal around it. It's not like he could even go to a hospital. They ask questions there. Too many questions. He hissed in pain, fingers slipping over the smooth, wet surface, making the job ten times harder than what it already was.

Fear and pain overwhelmed his senses to the point where he couldn't even hear the squeaks of the wooden planks that normally annoyed him to no end. He only noticed that someone was in the small room with him when a pair of tiny pale feet stopped right infront of him.

"Stay back baby, there's glass on the floor." He let his hand fall down, the stubborn shard finally dislodged from his forehead, "Go back to your room, I'm okay." The obvious lie slipped through his blooded lips like smooth butter, if there was something Theodore excelled exceptionally at, it was lying with confidence so great that you would believe him over your very own eyes.

"Why don't you stop him?" Fran asked meekly, shoulders tense and lips pouty, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his favourite shirt violently enough to tear the delicate embroidery his dad had spend countless hours on.

Theodore lifted his head, his tired eyes taking in the heart wrenching sight of the boy he grew to call his son. Fran's whole body was trembling, his small fingers red and bruised from unconsciously fighting with the thread, his nose was swollen, the skin around his eyes was puffy. It was clear as day that the little boy had been crying for a while now.... probably since the fight started.

"Franny," Theo started softly, "I'm alright now. It's over, okay? Just go to your room, I'll follow you in a bit. Promise."

But the little vampire didn't budge, his cold feet planted firmly on the floor, lips forming a thin line accompanied by a deep frown barely hidden by loose white curls. Theodore sighed, he wanted so badly to hold his son's hands and carry him back to his room like he did every night before, but he was scared if he'd moved even an inch more he'd tear his shirt even further, revealing more bruises and cuts, subsequently traumatizing the boy more. So he stayed put.

"Why don't you stop him?" Fran repeated.

"Baby you know I-"

"WHY DON'T YOU STOP HIM?!"

The abrupt outburst took Theodore by surprise, making him flinch back on the bed. His wide blue eyes were chaotic as they searched the smaller one's face for any ounce of sympathy. It was silly, really, to be looking for such emotions in a clearly overwhelmed and traumatized kid, but Theo couldn't help himself, couldn't help the fear that was eating away at him, one angry word at a time.

"I know you can, Teddy. You used to stand up to daddy! And he was a VAMPIRE!" Fran said with a bit of pride in his voice, "You know what? I think we should go back to living with him! Maybe Elliot is waiting for us there! And the-"

"Elliot left. He isn't waiting for us anywhere, he doesn't want us anymore." Theodore shrunk back to himself when he noticed the amount of venom in his voice, "Besides Franny, you know I'll never let him hurt you. I'll never let anyone hurt you." He tried giving the most reassuring smile he could muster with the dull ache in his bruised cheeks.

Fran was silent for a long, dreadful second before hot tears raced down his face, "You can't even protect yourself..."

That sentence was like a punch to the gut. He never thought about the consequences that their constant fighting had on his son. He thought, no, he made himself believe that as long as Fran was in no immediate physical danger, everything was okay. It almost frightened him just how much he was willing to ignore and sweep under the rug just to let himself feel like a good father.

"I don't feel safe here... I'm scared." Fran sniffled, "I'm scared that one day I'll wake up and-and find you dead!" It was getting harder for the little vampire to speak as the tears kept flowing, "Or.. or  that you would... would just leave me here like Elliot did... or.. or yo-" violent sobs wrecked his body, forbidding him from finishing his sentence.

Theodore was lost. He promised Rouge and Elliot.. fuck those two, he promised himself that he would give Fran the best life possible, and yet here he is... shaking and wailing helplessly... He needed to do something, and he needed to do it fast. But what? What could he do?

What would dad have done? Dad wouldn't let himself be in this fucking situation. But if he was ... what would he have done?? Theodore's hands were now shaking uncontrollably as he tried to think of an answer. He would've pulled me close. Held me tight in his arms and told me that he'll keep me safe no matter what. That everything will be okay. Yes. Yes... that's what he would've done.

And so he reached forward, taking the now bloodied tiny hands in his and pulling Fran into his arms, holding the sobbing boy as tight as he could.

But the truth is. What his father would've done is vastly different that what Theodore should've done. Because in that moment of pure loss and desperation, he forgot one crucial detail... Fran can't handle being touched. Especially not being hugged.

Fran yanked himself backwards with powers unnatural to him, his body was sent flying until he hit the floor with a loud thud that almost made Theodore's heart stop, but to the boy, anything was better then being held like that.

"Franny... I'm so sorry... I forgo-" Before he could finish his sentence, the vampire was on his feet and running out the room. His loud footsteps quickly fading into nothingness before the deafening slam of a door shook the old house to it's core.

Theodore let himself fall back on the bed, sending small dust particles flying all over him and irritating his allergies. He quickly placed a hand over his nose to stop himself from inhaling any of that dust, he can't afford having his brains ooze out his wounds if he sneezed.

His eyes closed before he could decide otherwise. It's okay... it will be okay.. he'd probably gone to bed now, I should do that too. Tomorrow will be different, it will be better, I'll make some scrambled eggs and bacon.. wait no, Fran is a vegetarian you idiot, he doesn't eat that shit!... fuck. I can make uh... grilled cheese sandwiches.. yeah he'll surely like that....

But deep down Theodore knew that he isn't a kid that can go to bed when he is tired or in pain anymore, he is an adult now, with a kid of his own and all the responsibilities that come with it..

The obnoxious sound of the sports channel blaring from the living room and the rhythmic pouring of rain on the window along with phantom barking of a distant dog were like a hammer smashing into Theodore's head over and over again. Every little sound was cranked up to a hundred, even his own heartbeating was agonizing.

He forced his body to sit back up, becoming face to face with the long mirror nailed to the wall which seemed to be closing in on him. Theodore instinctively pushed himself backwards until his back hit the cold wall as the room began fold in on itself until the mirror was nearly touching his feet. He wrapped his arms around his body in an attempt to ground himself as his claustrophobia kicked in and his breathing quickened to a painful degree.

He forced his eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but the walls that were now touching every inch of him. And his thoughts drifted back to the only place they could... Is it possible Franny is scared like this now? He feels unsafe.. he said that himself.. I can't just leave him alone in his room until the next sunset... that's not what dad would've done.. that's..that's what mom did... leave me alone and ignore me when I needed her most then pretend nothing happened the next day... that's what I was going to do...

The thought made his eyes shoot open only to be faced with her image in the mirror, blue eyes staring down at him with familiar disappointment. His blood boiled. He is becoming her! Repeating the cycle of neglectful abuse and torment until noone survives. In a moment of blind rage he balled his fist and swiftly moved to shatter the mirror and all the pain it was causing, but he found himself slammed to the floor, bloody knuckles causing a dent in it... it seems as tho the wall was still as far away as it always had been.

He stayed there for a moment, tears pouring down unapologetically as he tried to compose himself. He soon found enough willpower to stand up, but before he could take a step forward, sharp pain shot up straight to his head, forcing him to grab onto the nearest wall for balance.

Once the pain dulled down enough for him to be able to open his eyes, he looked down at the apparent source, only to see that his right ankle had doubled in size, blue and swollen as if there was a tennis ball underneath the skin. He rested the back of his head on the window, feeling the cold droplets of rain leaking through and falling on his cheeks.

He sighed, he would heal, he always did. But it would take time, and unlike Silas, this fucker never cared for him after beating him up. Theodore chuckled to himself, never in a million years did he think he would use Silas as a positive example for anything, goes to show just how low his life had sunk.

Nevertheless, he needs to persist, not for himself but for the little vampire that depended on him.

He thought about taking a quick shower to wash off all the blood, but something told him not to, to just check on Fran as soon as possible, and Theodore's gut feeling had never failed him before, so he always followed it, even if he knew that his son was safe in his bed, wrapped in a fluffy blanket that Theo had spent all his money on. He smiled, remembering how Franny's eyes twinkled when he first saw the bee pattern on it. Oh how he wishes he would see him this happy every second of every day.

Still smiling, he managed to take off the ripped shirt without aggravating his injuries too much. He held the black tee in his hands, staring at the bright neon pink "Angel♡" written on it in a metal font with the white signature of the singer along the neck.

He got this shirt 2 years back when he went to the live performance, Angel wasn't even the main performer back then, they were merely the opening act. Given how small they were, they didn't have a signing booth, it was actually pure luck that Theodore managed to meet them outside while they were waiting for a taxi.

And he thought that Rouge was tall! Angel was at least eight feet, to the point where he felt like a little cat after cranking his neck up so high just to be able to see their face, and what a truly terrifying face it was! Almost nightmarish with their black bug eyes and their long pointy teeth! But they were nice, maybe a bit blunt and lacking a social filter, but after being with Fran for a while, Theodore got used to unwanted comments... wait.. Fran... now THAT is what he was here to do!

He immediately put his favourite shirt down on a nearby wooden chair, promising to fix the rip the moment he can carry something as delicate as a needle without his hands shaking and dropping it, he threw on an oversized sweater that used to belong to Elliot, a pair of ghost patterned pyjama pants and made his way to the corridor.

Theodore was still grabbing onto the walls as he limbed his way to the door covered in stickers, it was slightly ajar which was strange considering that Fran had slammed it, but with how rusted the hinges are, anything is possible. He slowly pushed the door open, peering into the dark room, noticing how the moonlight softly illuminated the blanket-covered lump on the bed.

He should be happy? Maybe relieved? But instead, all he could feel is the bile rising to his throat, and he just couldn't tell why, perhaps he was just anxious about the impending talk. Yes. It must be that.

Theodore slowly stepped toward the small bed, feeling the mattress sink under his weight as he sat on it. "Hey Franny..." no answer, "It's me Teddy," again, nothing. He sighed, rubbing his hand over his aching neck, "listen I came here to apologise, and I... are you asleep??" He pulled down the blanket only to see that it was only a group of plushies in the vague shape of a kid.

Adrenaline shot through his body making him forget all about his pain and injuries as he quickly opened the closet, looked under the bed, tore the covers from the bed. Yet.... Fran is nowhere to be seen.

"FRAN!" Theodore yelled at the top of his lungs, "FRAAAANN!" He stood aimlessly in the little room filled with the missing boy's trinkets and drawings, his breath so fast he could hear it as he impatiently waited for an answer, "Baby where are you?!"

He could feel the little plushies staring at him, knowing where his baby is but not telling him, they don't want Fran to go back to being with such a horrible father. Theodore grabbed his son's favourite one, a large fluffy bee he had won for him during a passing carnival. He forcefully held it, his fingers smearing the blood all over the bright yellow as he shook it back and forth in the air.

"Where is he goddamn it! Where is he?" He screamed over and over again at the defenseless bee.

To anyone passing by, this seems like complete and utter madness, a father interrogating a stuffed animal instead of searching the whole house for his missing son? But to Theodore in the moment, it made sense. These plushies were the closest to the little vampire, they know his secrets and feelings more than Theo ever apparently did. So it must be obvious that they would be the ones knowing where his precious baby would be.

"I know you know! So just tell me!" His voice broke as a pained sob took over him, making him hold onto the door handle as his knees seemed to buckle under him. "I'll make it better... I swear.."

"He went out you crazy bitch!" The familiar gruff voice came from the living room, it was naturally loud enough to drown out everything else, even the news channel. Or perhaps that was just Theodore's mind only focusing on what matters to him, whichever case it was, he heard it loud and clear.

"What?" He whispered, soft and almost silent; like a deer caught in headlights, he couldn't move a single muscle in his body. He was painfully aware of this, too; the fact that he is just. Sitting. There. Like a useless piece of shit. His brain screamed at him to 'MOVE IT YOU FUCKER! MOVE!' But his body was almost paralyzed, unable to do anything, not even blink.

It may have taken mere seconds to get up and be in the living room, but it felt like years. Years of him being useless and worthless.

He ran down the short corridor.

He ran.

And ran.

And ran.

And with every step, the corridor seemed to stretch further and further, the end feeling more like a mirage as countless doors strung on the walls. Screams were erupting from behind them, defeaning and terrifying. A minute of thinking would've made him recognize the voice as Fran's, and this was one of the many instances where he regretted ever doing that. Theodore shut his eyes, covering his ears with his hands and just ran forward like a fish in the deep dark ocean where the sun can't reach.

"What do you mean?" His voice was erratic when he finally made it to the living room, gripping the worn down sofa that his "boyfriend" was sitting calmly on, as if a kid isn't out in the dark and rain all on his own.

"He's just breathing some air after all that shit you caused!" The man turned to look at him, "You think I didn't hear all that? Well news flash baby, I have ears."

His absolute nonchalance about the whole thing was irritating Theodore to no end, and Theodore wore his emotions on his sleeves. His eyes darkened dangerously as he almost felt himself growl, but he had to control himself as that would definitely get him another beer bottle to the head.

The man chuckled softly, putting his large hand on top of Theodore's much tinier one, "You're too worried about him, Francis is-"

"Fran." He corrected in a low, deep voice.

"Whatever, same thing. Point is, he is a little man now! If he wants to go out and calm his nerves after you wrecked them, then let him!" He smiled, trying to pull the shorter man towards him, but he didn't budge. "Listen baby, you need to give him some time to work out his emotions, stop getting in his business you little helicopter!"

The man pulled again, this time successfully getting the half dissociated Theodore around the sofa and onto his lap. When he said it like that.... it almost made sense. Fran isn't eight and he really was hurt by all that Theo had done tonight and most nights before that, he does need some time to process all that. Or maybe that was just his way of feeling less guilty, believing that this is just a natural reaction rather than face the fact that his son's terrible immune system won't handle the cold and rain.

"That's right baby," the man held Theodore close, and like a moth to flame he leaned into it, craving any sort of affection and sympathy, "calm down now," his rough hands gently petted Theo's curls which were now matted with a mixture of blood, bear and sweat, "it's all okay," He moved his hand down, moving over Theodore's back in slow and rhythmic circles. "Daddy's here," testing his luck, the man moved his hand further down and gripped Theodore's buttocks firmly.

This sent reality crushing down on the poor man, this isn't okay. Nothing about a frail and sickly eleven year old kid being alone outside in the raining night in a place surrounded with dangerous wildlife is okay. No matter how hard he wants to shake the guilt off. How hard he wants to lean into this rare moment of gentleness. He can't. Not when his son is all alone. Not in a million years.

Theodore placed his hands on his boyfriend's large chest and pushed himself off his lap, getting to his feet as quickly as he can without losing his balance and running to the door as if he is a prisoner that just found the keys.

"Well fuck you too slut! I never wanted your trashy ass anyway! Go get eaten by wolves! You and your annoying ass kid!"

But Theodore had already made it outside and started the long process of running around aimlessly and yelling Fran's name at the top of his lungs. After thoroughly running through the front yard, he took a deep freezing breath and made his way into the surrounding woods where the fading moonlight didn't reach.

He quickly lit up the lighter, the rain putting out the flame before he could do anything, so he bent down, wrapping his body around it like a deer would to her fawn, and tried lighting it up again. The small flame persisted long enough for it to turn blue and be transferred onto Theodore's palm.

He extended the demonic flame infront of his face, making his eyes twinkle with otherworldly lights, he was hoping that animals would find it's strange color intimidating rather than inviting, and that Fran would recognize it as his and find him. Clearly too much faith in a silly little flame, even if it is magical in nature.

Theodore's feet got sliced and bruised by the rocks and thorns on the ground, but nevertheless he persisted, his dark fingers gripping the ancient trunks for dear life, not caring about the skin being scratched and peeled off if them.

He opened his mouth to yell for his boy, "Fraaan.." he coughed, hoping that his voice would come back, "Fra.... fuck me." His voice was gone, almost completely after the endless screaming and yelling he did this night, both while searching for Fran and the big fuckin fight that had happened before.

With no voice to speak of, Theodore felt... weak. He couldn't yell for Fran and the hope that the boy would see the flame on his own and follow it is... statistically very low. He was defeated. He failed himself, his father, Fran... everyone that can be failed.

He made his way out of the forest, he had already searched the surrounding area on foot. He had the small tiny twinkle of hope that Fran had made his way back home alone, that he really was just breathing some air. That he is now safe and cuddled underneath the blanket. Safe. And sound.

Theodore stood infront of the closed door. Body shaking from the cold rain and pain, he stood there for a while, just letting the tears silently fall down, not daring to go inside and face the truth.

"Teddy?" A small familiar voice echoed in his head, making him smile a little. He had been first given that nickname by his mom, but now that Franny used to call him that, it no longer feels... humiliating. It feels warm and comfortable, it feels like a purpose and having someone that depends on you and trusts you.

"Teddy!" The small voice came again, this time angrier, like a tiny kitten's hiss.

Is it possible that this.. isn't in Theodore's head? That Fran was actually yelling for him?

He tore his eyes away from the door and looked around, and sure enough, he easily spotted the head of white fluffy hair struggling to get out of under his boyfriend's car.

Theodore rushed to help his son get out without being scratched or injured, he held the boy's tiny hands and pulled slowly, stopping to fluff down his shirt to make the sliding easier. Once his bottom was out, his short legs were an easy task.

"Thank gawd! I thought I was gonna be stuck under there forever! Or that that bastard was gonna drive tomorrow and I'll become tomato paste!" The little boy was flailing his arms around as he spoke, finally settling for a dramatic break as while saying "tomato paste!"

He tried keeping himself composed, he really did, slowly stroked his son's curls, but quickly enough Theodore crumbled. Exhaustion, pain and all that worry that he was barely holding, finally broke him. He hid his face behind his hands as he cried uncontrollably. His drenched shoulders shaking with each painful sob.

"Teddy?" Fran asked worriedly, his soft voice kept quiet as if Theodore was a rabbit that he didn't want to scare off. "Why are you crying?"

It might seem like a stupid question given the circumstances, and if it was anyone else, Theodore would've given them the deathglare. But he knew that Franny genuinely couldn't understand the consequences of actions, wether they were his own or others. So he simply sniffled and smiled as bright as he could, resuming to fluff up his baby's hair.

Fran's face scrunched up as if he had tasted a lemon, his soft features all grouping in the middle of his face. But he didn't mind this, not really, he just found it fun to do this face because he doesn't get to often. And Theodore knows this, they spoke about this before... before this..  him.

"I wanna sleeeeeeeeeeep." Fran whined while pouting, earning him an honest chuckle from his dad.

Theodore opened his arms as his son jumped up, landing perfectly on his waiting shoulder. Fran swung his feet, accidentally hitting his father's chest a few times, not too many times tho as he was doing his absolute best to avoid it. But that swinging was making it harder for Theo to safely stand up, but he made do and made his way back indoors carrying his son like a sack of potatoes, which is the only way Franny likes to be held.

Deep in his mind, Theodore knew that this won't be the end of this abusive relationship, he was too dependent, too afraid of being abandoned and left alone to leave. But the cracks were only becoming more and more prominent, and hell was knocking on their door.

[petrichxxr]

fateful coincidence [2] | l.jh

A/N: here I am yet again wondering if people still read the things I write... I started this series a year ago (I think) and finally have gotten around to updating it...

Word Count: 12,552

Genre: chaebol/heir!au, supernatural elements/deal with the devil, slice of life, romance (slow burn/soulmates)

Warnings: reader (fem) x lee jooheon (monsta x) pairing, mature/suggestive themes, language

Summary: Lee Jooheon is a well-known heir to a global hotel conglomerate, and is next in line to take over the family business. You’re a journalist, aspiring for more, but barely managing to pay your own bills at the end of the month. The two of you are from entirely different worlds, yet fate somehow tangles your threads, and Jooheon seems to know an intriguing amount more about you than he lets on.

You’re forgetting things.

  Like pockets of memory, it starts off small. Miniscule things throughout the day that slowly progress into more important issues. There are holes, you reach in and grasp for something that you know should be there, but nothing comes out. It’s an irritating feeling—to know that something is misplaced, forgotten, but to be unable to identify what it is. It feels as if it’s only gotten worse since the night of the hotel opening, but a part of you is suddenly aware that it’s been going on for much longer than that.

  It’s only after the event, waking up the next day with the taste of alcohol lingering, that you wonder how serious your memory displacement might be—because you realize, waking up, that it’s not even the alcohol that’s making you forget. Yet despite that, you still push everything down. You lock it and the dashing Lee Jooheon away in the depths of your mind, forcefully making yourself forget this one thing. You didn’t have the time to keep constantly turning his words over in your head, attempting to sort through the shrouded mystery that they presented. Not just that, but he was from a completely separate world—even if you allowed yourself time to do just that, he was still untouchable.

  Plus, you didn’t want to relive every single detail as you described the event to Kihyun. There were some important factors that could be conveniently left out—he had refused to talk to you for almost three days, annoyed you’d hung up on him and given him the cold shoulder that day. Despite having a job to do. But you were just as irritated in his behavior and lack of thoughtfulness the day of the event when you’d called out of work. He hadn’t bothered to check on you at all, and you had needed to get to your job. It was as simple as that, but he’d taken it out of proportion and was being childish.

  His childish behavior had dropped after the three days—after he seemed satisfied he’d gotten whatever point he was attempting to make (there was none) across, and after you got some decent recognition from Minhyuk due to the article you’d written. You tried not to consider the fact that it could have been some of Jooheon’s doing that the piece was performing so well, another thought you pushed out of your mind and locked away.

  After the hype of everything between the event and article died down, your daily routine fell back into place. Kihyun was back to his normal blunt best friend act, Minhyuk was as bossy as ever and overworked you, and your daily headaches returned.

  The daily headaches. You wonder if it has anything to do with your missing pockets of memory.

  “Are you forgetting anything?” Kihyun’s voice suddenly breaks through the slight throbbing just beyond your skull, silencing the thoughts that were just about to make everything worse.

  You glance up from your suitcase to see him entering your room, eyes scanning over the piece of paper you’d typed up. A gray cloud of fluff, fondly known to be your cat Silas, expertly weaves his way through Kihyun’s feet. Whenever he did that to you, you’d trip and fall—yet for some reason, he and Kihyun had it down to an art. No matter how much Kihyun multitasked, he was always used to the feline being just underfoot.

  Silas breaks apart from Kihyun and trots across your bedroom to you. “Hey, bub.” Smiling, you reach out and give the cat a few chin scratches. Looking up to Kihyun, you add, “I don’t think so. You’ve taken care of him before though, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

  Kihyun frowns. “Not for this extended length of time, though. Does he get separation anxiety?”

  “With how much I work and am away from home, anyway? Doubtful. But who knows, he may miss my presence. Just sleep over here. I have food that’ll go bad and you still have a roommate.”

  “True. Hyungwon just sleeps, anyway. It’s not like he’ll really notice I’m gone.” Kihyun lowers the paper of instructions for caring for the flat and Silas while you’re gone on your trip, eyeing you. “Are you going to get that checked out, by the way?”

  You practically scramble to lower your hands from your neck, realizing Kihyun had spotted you attempting to massage away some of the pain throbbing at the base of your nape. He was always so watchful, it was almost annoying. You understood the headaches were something to be concerned over, but he didn’t have to nitpick so much.

  “It’s not really a work trip, nor a leisure trip. I’ll see if I have time.”

  “Still, you’ll be visiting home while you’re there. You may as well fit in a doctor’s appointment,” Kihyun pointed out, giving the paper in his hand a small wave. “Plus, you’re there a little over a week. Family matters to take care of or not, you’ll have plenty of time. Make sure to get some rest, too. Maybe you just need some decent sleep.”

  You sigh. “Yes, mother, I’ll try to.”

  The sound of Kihyun’s scoff immediately follows, along with his footsteps. Silas, who had been sprawled out on the floor this entire time, scurries away at the sudden weight reverberating across the floor that startles him out of his catnap.

  “Anyway, did you forget anything?” Kihyun asks once more, eyeing your open suitcase in front of you.

  You glance back at your suitcase, a little haphazard with the contents but sorted and all together nonetheless—you just had to figure out how to make everything fit between your checked and carry on baggage—and shake your head. “No, I think I’m good. If I do forget anything, at least I’m going home. There’s usually spare stuff available, or I can just buy it if it’s something small.”

  Kihyun frowns. “You were literally just complaining a few weeks ago about having to spend money on a dress, and now you’re saying you can just buy what you need.”

  “Well, I figure if I forget anything, it’ll be something cheap like shampoo,” you cut him a look, rolling your eyes. Not a gown, you want to say. “Anyway, let’s get some sleep. Flight leaves at two in the morning, and I’m sure that’s going to be a lovely time waking up for the both of us.”

  If possible, Kihyun’s frown deepens. As quickly as you possibly can without making any mistakes, you finish organizing your belongings between the luggage and close everything up, creating a pile to easily collect upon your departure. Kihyun bids a soft goodnight and makes his way back to the makeshift bed he’d created in your living room. You were already dreading the sixteen hour time difference and having to reset your internal clock for your visit to the States. At least all Kihyun had to do was wake up at an almost-unholy hour of the night to drop you off at the airport, then return to home and bed. You hoped sleep would come easily to you on the plane—because as the lights in your apartment are shut off and you close your eyes, the pounding of your headache seems to increase and rear its ugly head in full force—making sleep almost impossible for the five or six hours ahead of you.

—

Sleep comes, at some point—though not easily. But as long as it took to come, it ends in an even shorter amount of time. When you finally do fall asleep, it feels as though only a few moments pass before your alarm begins to go off. You groan, your head still pounding, and roll over to bury yourself further under your covers. The blaring song of your alarm does nothing to ease the throbbing within your skull, and you wonder how you’re supposed to get into an airplane and make the trip. Will the climb in altitude make your head hurt worse?

  It’s Kihyun’s groaning from the other room, followed by his annoyed stomps—that finally wakes you. He silences your phone alarm before abruptly pulling your covers off you, making you groan again.

  “Wake up,” Kihyun orders, and you feel your shoulder shoved at. “You don’t want to be late.”

  “I don’t want to be at all…” Comes your sleepily mumbled reply.

  “We are not having an existential crisis at twelve in the morning. Get up. I will not hesitate to drag you out of bed,” Kihyun warns. “And your apartment floors are wood.”

  Letting out a sigh, you push yourself into a sitting position. Giving your eyes a rub, applying a slight pressure in hopes to ward away the throbbing headache, you drop your hands then blink a few times and allow your sight to adjust to the darkness of your bedroom.

  “You still have a headache?” You see Kihyun frown in the dark.

  “Why are you surprised? It’s a constant thing nowadays,” you sigh once more, pushing yourself to the edge of the bed. “Plus, it took forever to fall asleep. I’ll just sleep on the plane, though. Do you mind packing the car and I’ll get ready?”

  You don’t really wait for Kihyun to answer, knowing he’ll do so anyway without you having asked, moving around to collect the clothes you’d set out the evening before and heading to the bathroom. One of Kihyun’s pet peeves was being tardy, and while you lived close enough to the airport that it wasn’t a huge deal to leave a little later—it had been Kihyun’s idea to at least get there an hour and a half earlier than your flight. Which honestly made sense on any normal occasion, but the airport was sure to be a bit on the dead side considering the time of night.

  It doesn’t take you long to get ready. Your warm morning shower does nothing to ease the tension in your head—a last ditch effort you had hoped might work. By the time you’ve finished a very shortened version of your morning routine brushing your teeth, drying your hair, and applying your facial care—Kihyun already has the car packed and is pouring some food into Silas’ bowl, before pulling a hoodie on and getting ready himself. You gather the last of your toiletry items that need to be packed, and when the two of you head downstairs and you bid your farewell to your beloved feline, you stuff your toiletry bag into the top zipper of your luggage.

  Kihyun was right to urge you to leave earlier rather than later. Despite the distance to the airport, there’s a decent amount of midnight traffic due to it being a weekend. You close your eyes as he drives, the blinding city and street lights glaring against the glass window of the car and burning your pupils and head. Kihyun’s smooth operation of the vehicle makes it easy to doze off a couple of times before you arrive. While the traffic may have been on the heavier side, you still make it early, and with plenty of time to spare.

  “Make sure to tell me when you land,” Kihyun orders as he helps pull your bags out of the trunk of the car.

  “I will.” You’d be sure not to have a repeat of the hotel opening night, where he hadn’t checked in on you when you’d called out, and out of spite you hadn’t bothered to reach out to him. “Make sure you send me plenty of photos of Silas while I’m gone.”

  “He’ll be fine, he’s a cat.”

  You jut out your bottom lip into a pout. “That’s not what I said.”

  Kihyun scoffs, but reaches up to pat your head gently. “I’ll send you photos. Please try to see if you can get into a doctor while you’re there.”

  “You’re going to keep pushing that, aren’t you?”

  “As much as I possibly can,” Kihyun lowers his hand to give you a one-armed hug. “I’m going to miss pestering you. I don’t think we’ve been separated for a week since we met in college.”

  “You could just say you’re going to miss me like a normal person would.”

  “There’s no fun in that though.” Kihyun grins down at you, before nodding towards the entrance to your gate.

  Giving a small wave, you gather your luggage and head inside. In total, it takes about thirty minutes to get your bag checked, get yourself checked in for your flight, and to go through security. Just as you’d suspected, the airport is practically dead at this hour and the lines are nonexistent. However, the traffic had been enough to make a dent in the time, and you thankfully don’t have long to wait before they start calling for your gate to board. There’s exactly enough time to grab a quick pastry from a nearby coffee shop that happened to be open before making your way onto the plane when your seat section is called.

  You board the plane, stow your carryon in the overhead compartment, and then claim your seat and fasten your seatbelt. Having flown before, you stick your earbuds in your ears—figuring you’ll listen to the flight attendants’ usual spiel when the time came—but more eager to make yourself comfortable and attempt some more sleep as quickly and as soon as possible. Especially since you’d been lucky enough to snag an unclaimed window seat. This meant you were tucked away in your own little back corner, hopefully left alone for the sixteen hours ahead by whoever decided to take up being your seat partner.

  Hopefully left alone was too much along the lines of wishful thinking.

  As you stare out the window, watching workers move about below in the dark as they load and prep the plane for takeoff—you suddenly feel an uncomfortable tug on the cord of your earbud, before it’s pulled straight from your ear. You can’t help but grimace, feeling the bud tug at one of your many piercings.

  “What the hell—”

  Just as you speak up, a voice that’s all too familiar asks, simultaneously, “What are you listening to?”

  You blanch as you turn in your seat, coming face to face with none other than Lee Jooheon. He quirks a brow at you, tilting his head to the side as he inserts your stolen earbud into his own ear. You can just barely make out the dimple impressions on his cheeks, his mouth pressed into something along the lines of a smile suppressing an amused smirk.

  “How—” The word falls from your lips, empty and confused. How, what? You wonder. How did he get here? How was he on the same flight as you? How did he recognize you? Not that you’d chosen to sit too far towards the back, honestly—anyone walking into the plane after just boarding could easily recognize a familiar face with an empty seat next to them. You liked sitting toward the front-middle of planes when traveling; apparently, in this case, that was your downfall.

  “Business trip,” Jooheon just shrugs, replying simply. “Why didn’t you ever text me that night?”

  You turn away from him, pursing your lips. Text him? You briefly remembered him handing you a business card, though couldn’t remember where it had slipped off to—too many drinks made it difficult to keep track of something that small. He’d only asked for you to notify him you got home safe, anyway, so what was the big deal? His bodyguard that had escorted you home surely passed that bit of info along to him.

  Had he—a possible multimillion dollar heir—really expected you to text him, unannounced? And why would he expect such a thing?

  Copying his shrug, you glance away from him. “I lost your business card.”

  It wasn’t a lie. As much as you wanted to admit, it was easy to forget the business card and it’s whereabouts. It was easy to forget the possibility of texting him as he’d asked. With the alcohol that had coursed through you, it was easy to forget that entire night. That was something that would probably irk him if you did choose to admit it. However, what wasn’t easy to forget were his words that randomly popped into your mind and turned over in your head, playing like a broken record—Do you really not remember me?

  That, on the contrary, was something that irked you.

  What was there to remember? Had you really forgotten something? It was a question that burned into your mind, day and night, even when you attempted to suppress all thoughts of him. You tried not to allow yourself to think of the events of that day, or him. While the former was fairly easy, there was something about Jooheon himself that made the latter next to impossible. There was no way for you to fight off the burning curiosity he’d created, as much as you tried. You could forget everything but him and his mysterious words.

  “Well, we can fix that,” Jooheon’s reply doesn’t miss a beat. Before you even have a chance to react to his words, you feel your unlocked phone slip through your fingers and out of your grasp.

  “H-Hey—”

  But Jooheon is paying no mind to your protest, and you watch as he swipes out of the Spotify app on your phone to open the dialing screen. His fingers glide across your screen as he inputs his number. He even goes a step further as to open your messages and start a new text to himself—ensuring he also had your number.

  As he hands your phone back to you, you frown, feeling your jaw tense. You glance down at the screen briefly, which he’d returned to your playlist, before looking back up at him. What would he do if you blatantly deleted his phone number? A part of you felt spiteful enough to do so just for the mere fact that he had taken your phone without asking and entered his number. It’s fine, I’ll just delete his number after the flight, you decide. Even if he has my number, I can just block him.

  Whatever kind of coincidence this was—it was just that. A coincidence. Nothing more would amount after this. It was rather unlucky you were stuck here for sixteen hours with the given circumstances, but you reminded yourself that this wouldn’t be happening again, and to just suffer through it for now. But there was a small part of you that wasn’t quite convinced it was merely just a coincidence, like you hoped… his words from the hotel opening night, like a broken record, continued to replay in your mind. You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something missing. Something you really had forgotten.

  “I like this song,” Jooheon comments off-hand, and you only hum in response, finally turning away. It would be an understatement to say you weren’t really in the mood to engage him. Maybe he’d only spoken up and said that because you’d been staring for so long, taking your gaze the wrong way. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to be completely lacking in common sense. Jooheon doesn’t push for more of a reply out of you, allowing the two of you to sit in silence as the rest of the flight occupants take their seats.

  It’s almost more unnerving to sit next to Jooheon without saying anything. During the hotel night, before things had gotten weird with what he’d muttered, you two had been able to freely talk without much difficulty. There was something about his energy that made it almost comfortable, yet invigorating, to be in his presence at that time. But now the invigoration has twisted and warped into an unnerving feeling. For the most part, you feel on edge—yet there’s still a high energy, a curiosity, that sparks between you. While the flight attendants review the usual plane and flying regulations, you find yourself glancing at Jooheon. The music still plays between the two of you, having not reclaimed your earbud and he having not offered to return it.

  Despite your better judgement, you’re aware of the way that the wire of the headphones rests against his shoulders, and how in normal, casual clothes—he’s actually quite broad. It’s something you feel like you should have noticed when he was dressed to the nines in a suit, yet so many suit jackets have padding you weren’t actually sure you would have trusted it. But in the simple hoodie he was wearing, you can see the breadth of his shoulders, and you’re positive it’s not because it’s oversized. He looks so simple, the outfit rounded together with some black sweatpants and a white shirt peeking out from underneath the hooded sweatshirt. So simple, and so unlike an heir or someone of his financial status. You try to ignore the fact that your brain keeps yelling at you that he looks good. It’s not important right now—or right ever, actually. Why did your mind feel the need to supply such an observation?

  You’re about to pull your gaze away from your attention on Jooheon, when you notice something as you do so—where his hand lays on the armrest, his finger taps incessantly. The tapping seems to pick up speed, even becoming more sporadic, as you feel the plane beneath you pick up speed with the takeoff. For a moment, you lose yourself in the background noise of his tapping—the tiny sound overtaking your senses and demanding your focus, a rhythmic and hypnotic thing. Don’t worry about him, you tell yourself. But there’s a part of your mind that is just too curious.

  “Are you okay?” You suddenly ask, dragging your eyes away from his fingers. The action seems to feel as though it takes slower than it should. 

  “Huh?” Jooheon blinks at you in surprise, having not expected you to acknowledge him for the rest of the flight. It’s then that he realizes what he’s doing, and he stills his hand. “Yeah, fine.”

  But when you glance down, you notice the way he grips the armrest instead—forcing his muscles to be still. You think he might start vibrating with the anxiety.

  “Are you sure?”

  Jooheon nods, though the action is terse. “I just don’t like flying.”

  “Don’t you have to do it a lot, though?” You ask, surprised. He was the heir to an international hotel chain. Wasn’t he meant to do a lot of flying? Plus, he could be considered a businessman… the idea of him not liking flying and being used to planes confuses you.

  “I—” Jooheon starts, though his words are immediately cut off as the plane picks up, pulling itself off the ground as it officially takes off. Jooheon intakes his breath sharply, the takeoff pushing both of you back against your seats. It’s not a rough takeoff, per se, but you’d definitely had smoother.

  Despite that, Jooheon isn’t handling it well. Something within you pulls toward him—an innate need to protect that you can't quite explain. It’s like a little tiny flame, you feel it stir within you and you can’t help but want to feed it. The combination of his intake of breath, and the way his jaw clenches when he closes his eyes, causes you to reach out without thinking—practically prying his hand off the armrest to take hold of it.

  You wrap your hand around his, giving a reassuring squeeze.

  Jooheon is surprised by the contact—enough so he stills for a moment, opening his eyes to peer down at your hands in curiosity—before he’s caught by surprise by something else. It’s in that moment that your hand folds around his, skin touching skin and your warmth flooding into his system through shared palms—entwining itself around every nerve—that everything stills. The sensation of everything within him simply quieting—the black, reverberating anxiety that shook at his core like a thunderous stormcloud, and the way his stomach twisted with nausea at every jerky movement the plane made. But it wasn’t just that, it was everything from that to standard stresses, a whirlwind of things that needed to be done for work, and the tormenting voices he often had to deal with within his own mind—they all just silence at your touch.

  He finds his gaze locked on your hands, confused and curious all at the same time. He’d never had this happen before. Was this something that was supposed to happen? Even if he wanted to, Jooheon feels as though he’s unable to pull away from the warmth there. Like your palms are magnetized, connected, and something he shouldn’t pull apart. There was a warmth just beneath his hand, where his skin met your skin, that he could feel building like a little fire. But instead of overtaking everything in the way that a wildfire might, Jooheon finds the warmth to be soothing. Comforting, like a warm drink that fills you up—or perhaps closer to the sensation of sinking into the warm water of a bathtub. The silence within him is a welcome sensation that he’d personally like to drown himself in, if only to escape reality for just a little bit and stay suspended where he was in that strange sensation of lulled time.

  For you, the skin to skin contact with Jooheon is scalding. You immediately feel that electricity you’d felt the night of the hotel opening shoot across every nerve in your body like a cosmos, the tiny flame you’d been curious about flare up with a vengeance. The heat that floods through your system at his contact in places you’d never even imagined—the pit of your stomach, the cavity of your chest, the back of your throat, is parching and suffocating and entirely overwhelming. It overtakes you in such a way that you feel your chest seize up, like you can’t breathe. But for some reason, you hang on to him. You wonder if you’ll start shaking from the sudden pressure that feels as though it’s been placed on your body, hyper-aware of the contact of him.

  Yet, for some reason you don’t have the answer to, nor the mind or focus to think about—despite the way his skin contact is scalding, the nerves in your body ignited and burning from his touch—you still find yourself reaching out to him during the flight. It’s almost like it’s instinctual, though you aren’t quite sure how that would even be possible. Every time you notice Jooheon tense or become physically uncomfortable, the incessant tapping of his fingertips against the arm of the seat picking back up—you reach out to him. Your touch stills the anxiety from pouring out of his body in a physical form. It always happens when there’s turbulence, Jooheon seemingly seizing up every time the plane acts up in any way. You find it an odd fear or worry to have, considering he should be someone accustomed to flying so much, but you suppose people don’t get to pick and choose what it is that they’re afraid of.

  For a good majority of the flight, Jooheon opts to leave you alone. As much as he has questions and curiosities, and a need to hear your voice, he doesn’t want to push his luck. Every time your hand finds his whenever the turbulence of the plane gets to be too much for him—everything within him stills after a shock of electricity passes through his system from your touch. It’s like that single strike flashes through his system, piercing through every bit of thick, smoky anxiety in its wake. But beyond that touch,  Jooheon doesn’t ask or prompt for much more. And as the turbulence settles the longer the sixteen-hour flight drags on, the less Jooheon feels your touch that acts as a solid comfort to him. Instead, he relies more on the music the two of you listen to together. You never ask for the earbud back, and the cord of the shared headphones acts as the main thing linking you together the more time passes.

  Jooheon only pushes his luck a little bit every time food or snacks come around. He takes these moments to chat with the stewardess, asking some questions, and pulling you into the conversation with ease. It’s then that you find yourself stuck in small chats with him as he passes you snacks, drinks, or your meal. Luckily, it’s easy conversation that—for the most part—doesn’t push any boundaries, and always has something to do with the food being passed around. Questions like, How does that taste? What’s your favorite food? And barters to trade snacks. They’re interactions that don’t require much of a thought process otherwise, just meaningless words to fill the silence and help pass the time. While most of your interactions with him up until that point had been begrudging, to put kindly, Jooheon couldn’t help but be surprised at how receptive you could actually be.

  In between conversation, you spend the flight trying to get some shut-eye in, as you had originally planned—to no avail. You aren’t sure if it’s the presence of Jooheon being so close to you, his flying anxiety, or the sensation and sounds that came with flying that make it difficult to find sleep. From the corner of his eyes, you’re unaware of Jooheon watching you nod off every now and again, unable to ignore the way your head starts to bob or fall back against the seat suddenly. At these times, you barely manage to catch just a few fleeting moments of rest, something you couldn’t quite place your finger on always stirring you back awake. 

  It’s during one of these brief moments when you stir back awake that you notice Jooheon working on a tablet. At first, you think nothing of it, wanting to go back to sleep—even though you’re almost certain it’s impossible at this point—but, then it dawns on you that Jooheon is focused and quiet, and most importantly: Working, and not bothering you. As much as you hated to admit it, you’d become accustomed to Jooheon pestering you every time you moved even an inch. His silence almost disturbed you.

  You blink a few times, blearily at first, refocusing your gaze and quietly straightening in your seat to peek a glance at the tablet. It sits in Jooheon’s lap, propped against one of his knees that he has raised and crossed over the other leg, where he drags the stylus against the screen, moving a specific item back and forth across the piece he’s working on. You can’t tell if he’s being erratic or indecisive. For a moment, though, you stare—studying what you assume to be some sort of pamphlet being put together for a hotel—before a yawn overtakes you.

  When the yawn subsides, you shift in your seat, leaning closer to Jooheon. You give his elbow a nudge on the arm rest as you peer further over his shoulder at the tablet. “There’s too much white space.”

  You bite your lip to keep from laughing when Jooheon startles in surprise at your sudden intrusion into his space—having thought you were asleep still—letting a curse in Korean slip from his mouth under his breath. Cute, you can’t help but think, offering up a sheepish smile as if to apologize when Jooheon turns his head to stare you down, his eyes screaming offense. Jooheon lets out a small sigh, turning away and lifting a hand up to pat his chest and clear his throat—attempting to settle a heart that had almost tried to jump out of his chest.

  “I can’t get this layout to work,” Jooheon says as he returns his attention to the tablet in front of him.

  You reach over the armrest, and over his arm which holds the tablet, pointing at the screen as you speak. “You should resize these things, and then move this font here, and this image here. You could also do an overlay with a neutral color to offset the layers of this.”

  As you point to what you’re talking about, careful not to touch the tablet and accidentally move something, Jooheon watchings your index finger carefully. You don’t notice the way his brows knit in focus, hanging on every word you say and carefully listening to you. You also don’t notice the way that, as you speak, he’ll find himself losing focus for just a split second to allow his eyes to flicker to your face—so close to his as you lean over the armrest—taking a fleeting moment to admire the way you seem so serious and concentrated, your eyes alight with determined focus. Jooheon glances away from you, and back down to the tablet as you speak, feeling the corners of his lips twitch with amusement. This is what you liked doing. It was the part of your job that you liked, and he could tell. A stark contrast to the night of the hotel opening, which just seemed stressful and forced on you.

  It’s Jooheon’s turn to shift in his seat, leaning closer to you as he pulls his arm back and puts the tablet on the armrest between the two of you. You feel yourself freeze slightly at the proximity, having been so focused on what you were telling him. He lifts his hand, holding out the stylus to you. You blink, glancing at him and meeting his gaze—brief enough that it makes your chest clench—before glancing at the stylus.

  “What?”

  “I’m not going to retain any of what you just said. I got a bit of it. You take over.”

  “You… want me?” You blink in surprise, glancing at the screen of the tablet, and at him again. “This seems important though. It’s for your work, I could mess it up—”

  Jooheon scoffs. “Please, if anything—I’m the one that’ll mess it up. You’re the journalism major here, I’d say you’re much more qualified.”

  “Then why are you doing this?” You ask, relenting and taking the stylus from Jooheon.

  “We acquired a hotel in Los Angeles a few months back that’s been undergoing renovation—for the line of hotels I introduced at the grand opening the other night. The one in Seoul was built from the ground up, but we’ve slowly been expanding and we took a historic hotel and made it our own,” Jooheon explains, watching as you finally touch the stylus tip to the tablet and begin to work. “Anyway, long explanation shorter—the opening for that and the reintroduction of the new management is soon, but we recently lost our marketing manager. We haven’t been able to find someone else to hire, and we’ve got deadlines to reach. I’ve been trying to help out by taking over half of the job duties from the general manager.”

  “That’s very… responsible of you.”

  “Well, this whole chain is my responsibility,” Jooheon muses. “So, yeah. But also my best friend is the GM and his ass is getting kicked. Neither of us are any good at this, we’re just good at the business portion of it.”

  The conversation falls off there, Jooheon realizing you’re focusing. Hearing he and his general manager were struggling made you feel more pressure, and you can’t help but mentally chastise yourself for stepping in and helping, despite how clearly he had been struggling. Luckily, Jooheon stays close to you as he watches you work, leaning against the armrest. You try not to focus too much on the way your shoulders touch, or the way his scent flows into your space as he delegates a little, giving you technical hotel terminology to include and add in as the pamphlet comes to life on the tablet screen and the white space that had been taking up the majority of the screen before slowly melts away. When he challenges something you do, he allows for you to explain your reasoning behind it and listens carefully as you do so. You find yourself surprised at how well he listens, and how easily it is to compromise with him on certain things.

  You two spend a couple of hours working away at the project together before determining it’s finished, Jooheon and yourself both pleased with the outcome. Jooheon is smiling with enough force that his dimples show on his cheeks, and you can’t help but find yourself smiling along with him—his happiness infectious; you’re happy he’s happy, and you’re happy to have helped. Yet even with the happiness, you find your eyes stinging because of staring at a bright screen for so long, and are acutely aware of your beloved ever-present migraine rearing its ugly head even more than it had at the start of the flight. Jooheon takes note of the way you lift a hand to pinch your nose, attempting to suppress the pain throbbing from your skull.

  “Get some sleep. I won’t bother you anymore,” Jooheon comments, lifting the tablet up briefly to give it a small wave. “Thanks for your help though.”

  “No problem,” you mumble, suppressing yawn. His thank you catches you off-guard, enough so that you lower your hand from the bridge of your nose to blink at him a couple of times. But he’s not paying attention, turning away from you to put the tablet back into a carry-on he’d had stowed underneath the seat ahead of him. You shift in your seat—away from the position which had you closer to him—attempting to make yourself comfortable again as you close your eyes.

  Sleep seems like a fever dream to you. Something you’re aware that you’re receiving, but never feeling quite satisfied from it. As if it’s there, but simultaneously not; all a figment of your imagination. You begin to doze almost immediately after closing your eyes, the migraine practically pushing you to do so, because keeping your eyes open hurt too much. The intensity of the migraine doesn’t relent, though, which has you dozing and waking just as you had before you’d begun helping Jooheon with his work. Just as before, you find yourself going in and out of consciousness, nodding off and startling awake when your head begins to bob or tip too far. You sleep in increments—none of it restful.

  Jooheon is aware of your restlessness next to him, but he’d promised not to bother you—and he has to remind himself of that. But the way your head tips and bobs makes him feel anxious for you. Especially because he could briefly recall a mention of a constant headache the night of the hotel opening, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the reason sleep wasn’t coming to you easily was because of that. Had you been serious about it? You had a dry sense of humor, which he found quite amusing, but it had him often wondering if what you said was the truth or not at certain times—and did a decent job to keep him on his toes as he attempted to figure out whether you were being serious at times.

  He gives in to listening to himself constantly telling himself that he had said he wouldn't bother you, though, after too much time passes watching your head nod as sleep attempts to overtake you. That has got to be uncomfortable on the neck… he thinks to himself, completely giving in when he watches your head fall forward a bit too far. Jooheon reaches out to catch your head, guiding it gently toward his shoulder. As he does so, he sinks lower in his seat just a bit, so your head can rest more comfortably against him. He’s a little disappointed to find that the instant calm and quiet that had overtaken him earlier during the turbulence from your touch doesn’t envelop him warmly again—he is, however, surprised to find that after a few moments pass, you shift in your seat closer to him. When Jooheon glances at you after feeling the movement, he finds you still asleep—thankfully—slumping to the side to lean towards him more comfortably, snuggling against his shoulder.

  The way you nuzzle against him has him tensing in surprise—a heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. The action from you and the heat he feels overtake him with a sudden ferocity are familiar. Too familiar. A type of hunger he’d rather not put a name to.

  No, Lee Jooheon. Not right now. He clenches his jaw, glancing away from you and swallowing roughly, feeling parched suddenly. It was strange how different actions elicited different reactions, his body responding in such stark contrast to each. As Jooheon turns away, he carefully lifts his hood up and over his head, closing his eyes.

  He should sleep, too. There was still quite a bit of flight left.

—

You’re met with silence when you finally wake.

  The plane is bustling and alive, a quiet hum of sound that reverberates through the cabin as people speak in hushed tones and get ready for their landing. These sounds all come to you, slowly seeping into your consciousness. Before your body fully wakes—before you begin to tense your muscles and stretch, and a yawn overtakes you while your eyes crack open—your mind wakes first. And you notice something that seems a little off.

  Everything is silent.

  Your headache is completely gone.

  You stay still for a moment, reveling in the odd silence, though your mind is reeling as to why the migraines which had been plaguing you for months were just suddenly gone. The cavity of your skull where your mind rests feels empty, but in an oddly good way. What had changed? What had happened? Was it the ascension in the plane to a higher altitude? Was that even something that could stop chronic migraines?

  It almost felt too good to be true, considering your migraines also came hand-in-hand with your pockets of disappearing memory. For all that to just suddenly stop felt too good to be true.

  Furrowing your brows, you squeeze your eyes closed tighter. You want to stay here—suspended in silence and the darkness behind your eyelids—forever. There was no ache just beyond your temple that caused nausea; the pain so bad sometimes you felt like you might pass out. There was no ache behind your eyes that typically brought about the stinging sensation of tears, and made the glaring brightness of any sort of light hurt. There was nothing. There was just silence. No thoughts, no suffocating pressure, no pain.

  “Are you awake now?” Abruptly, Jooheon’s not-so-welcome, yet familiar, voice breaks through your silence.

  Begrudgingly, you open your eyes, blinking a few times to readjust to the light. And then, you blink again, realizing the tilted angle at which you’re resting.

  “Sleep well?” The hint of amusement in Jooheon’s voice has you jolting upright—and off his shoulder, where you’d been resting your head. You take a moment to stare ahead, refusing to meet Jooheon’s curious gaze that you can feel burning into you. Silently, you swallow down your nervousness and glance to your side, avoiding his gaze for a moment to stare at his shoulder—your makeshift pillow for who knows how long—then you lift your eyes to meet his.

  Without prompting vocally again, Jooheon simply raises an eyebrow.

  You almost hate to admit you did sleep well, considering the push and pull you kept experiencing towards Jooheon. There were too many unanswered questions about him, too many things that made you curious and worried at the same time. He was too mysterious. Admitting something like this to him almost felt like you were placing a playing card right in his hand. There was a small part of you that wondered if his presence had anything to do with it, but you immediately pushed that thought out of your mind, writing it off as absolutely absurd. You barely knew him, how would he have any sort of effect on you such as that?

  Letting out a sigh, you nod finally in answer.

  Jooheon takes the silent answer with a small nod of his own, turning away to gather his belongings which had been at his feet to begin putting in the backpack he had, before pushing it back under the seat before him. “That’s good, you looked like you needed some decent rest.”

  “Apparently so. My headache—or rather, migraine—is gone.”

  When Jooheon straightens in his seat, he turns to look at you again. “You mentioned once you had a constant headache. Was it that bad?”

  You nod. “It would vary. Sometimes it was a headache, sometimes a migraine. Anywhere from manageable to incapacitating, but always constant. It’s been going on for almost three months now, I think?”

  “That long?” Jooheon’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and the corners of his lips immediately follow in the opposite direction, pulling down into a frown. “You mentioned during our first meeting you were stressed, but that sounds like something more than just stress. Have you been to a doctor?”

  “Please, finding the time is too difficult. Don’t start nagging me like Kihyun.” Out of habit, the borderline pushiness of his words has you reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose. There’s no headache there to attempt to subside—which has your hand just as quickly falling down from your face. You frown at your palm, studying it. The habit had been built on stress, and as stressful as Jooheon’s miniscule attempt to nag had been, there was no physical representation of that stress like usual.

  Maybe Kihyun is the problem, you muse to yourself. He did have a tendency to nag to the extreme. Almost like a mother.

  “I’m starting to think Kihyun might be on to something,” Jooheon grumbles from next to you, causing you to lift your gaze from your hand. “You seem to be stubborn, you need someone to nag you, it seems like. You should find the time. Three months almost certainly implies there’s some sort of underlying health concern.”

  “My headache is still gone, don’t ruin the moment. If you keep it up, it’s almost certainly going to come back.”

With a scoff, you look away from him and nestle back into your seat. As you do so, an announcement over the intercom notifies everyone aboard the plane of the oncoming landing. Instructions to start preparing for landing by putting away and stowing all belongings follows, and the stewardess over the speaker ends the announcement by asking everyone to return to their seats and begin buckling up.

  “Fine. I won’t ruin this moment. But I can’t promise for any future moments,” Jooheon declares. When you glance at him in surprise, he looks over at you with a small dimpled smirk. You end up rolling your eyes—rolling your gaze away from him. How the heck was he so annoying, yet somehow charming?

  As if someone hears the word charming cross through your mind—the plane hits a bit of turbulence just before it begins to tip to the side, turning to make a circle to land. It’s a very slight maneuver, almost unnoticeable. In fact, you were so accustomed to flying that you really wouldn’t have noticed it yourself, if not for the fact that Jooheon, next to you, was visibly tensing as he had earlier. His hand, lying on the armrest between you, grips the edge so hard the skin pulls taught and translucent over his knuckles.

  Even Jooheon’s unusual fear and his reaction to it, something you had become accustomed to during the flight, was somehow charming.

  Wordlessly, you reach out, pushing your hand beneath his where it grips the armrest. It takes a bit of urging before he feels your fingertips pushing against the base of his palm near his wrist, attempting to push your way underneath. When Jooheon does, he glances at you in surprise, lifting his hand just enough for you to slip yours beneath to take hold of him as you had before.

  When your palms connect, fingers wrapping around his and him returning the gesture, that scalding feeling from before returns. You knew you’d be burned, touching him—yet for some reason, as you had so many times through the flight already—it was a risk you were willing to take. That same electricity that you’d felt before, and felt from the night of the hotel opening, shoots up your arm from where your palms connect and shoots across every nerve in your body again. This time, though, it feels so much stronger—and now you wonder if the clarity of your migraine being gone is a good thing, or a bad thing. Without the heavy, leaden fog that rests over your mind with the migraine, you’re suddenly aware and feel everything. So much so that the contact this time and the reaction your body has to him makes you flinch in surprise, though very subtly.

  Jooheon, of course, takes silent note—his eyes never not watching you curiously.

  That electric fire that swarms through you happens in such a brief amount of time that it takes you a few moments of staring at your hand, connected with Jooheon’s, to realize that it at some point quiets down to something more akin to a simmer. Warm, and somehow pleasant. Something like sitting in a window, where sun filters through, your eyes closed against the sunlight that warms the glass and warms you.

  You really had to be going crazy, you think. Jooheon was handsome but there was no way you were attracted to him—right?

  Meanwhile, the same warmth floods through Jooheon, euphoric and soothing. He draws his eyes away from you, clenching his jaw and trying not to physically react to the fuzzy feeling that overtakes him, filling him up  yet again. The welcome silence of everything stopping within him returns. If he isn’t careful, he’s sure he might let out a sigh of contentment that would give everything away. And so, he clenches his jaw a little tighter, pursing his lips.

  “You’re going to break the poor armrest,” you say, past a knot that forms in your throat. Your throat feels dry, seizing up again. You feel awkward just holding his hand—especially as you try to make sense of the sudden fire that had built up just as it had before, before slowly dying down into something more manageable. This time, it wasn’t as suffocating. Yet you still felt somehow nervous and small next to him, that unnerving edginess he causes settling over you again. Your body was starting to feel as though it was experiencing whiplash.

  A little over sixteen hours spent in his presence was starting to confuse you. Were you still irked by him, yet somehow intrigued? Or were you actually starting to soften up to him? You had to admit that his mysterious riddled words and overly generous actions had made you immediately throw up a wall… but he hadn’t been that bad during this flight. He’d been much more normal, still as charming, but besides taking your phone for himself—he hadn’t pushed any boundaries or said anything weird.

  “You’d rather I break your hand, then?” Jooheon retorts good-naturedly, which has you suddenly snorting out a small laugh.

  “Please don’t actually break it. I need to return to work after this trip.”

  “What are you on this trip for, anyway?” Jooheon wonders, and when you look at him with a frown, he shrugs. “I told you what I’m going to LA for.”

  “Family reasons.”

  “A vacation, then?”

  You shake your head, grimacing at the thought of what awaits you when you land. Although Jooheon has made the flight a little more bearable, despite everything you thought about him prior, a small part of you wishes you hadn’t even boarded the plane back in Seoul. Knowing what you were walking into when the plane landed—you wished for everything that, somehow, you wouldn’t have to. If only you hadn’t been pressured into taking this trip. You wanted to stay suspended here, with your migraine gone and a bit of peace from everything in life and just spend some time not thinking. Not thinking about work, not thinking about family, and not thinking about how much pain you were constantly in. Kihyun had told you to get your migraine checked out while you were near your family doctor, but you wondered when you’d have time for that—wondered how long this peace from the head pain would last. Which is why you wanted to keep it, for as long as possible. It was so nice to have some silence and a break from it all. Soon, you’d be walking back into more pain. Unwillingly so, but that was the outcome, nonetheless.

  “It’s not going to feel like a vacation.” Comes your answer, just as the plane lands. It’s at that moment that Jooheon squeezes your hand, the impact of the plane hitting the runway jostling everyone inside just a bit. But there’s something in the way that he gives the squeeze—almost reassuring instead of to comfort himself—that has you staring at your hands, yet again, in silent curiosity.

  Jooheon keeps holding your hand up until the plane reaches a complete stop once it pulls up to the jetway. It’s only then that he relinquishes his hold, and the both of you silently gather up the belongings which you’d brought as carry on items onto the plane. Other passengers begin to do the same, standing in their rows and slowly beginning to exit the plane. Jooheon, once he has everything in his backpack he’d brought with him, soon stands in the row you share, turning to glance over his shoulder. As you finish gathering your things into the backpack you’d brought on the plane with you after claiming it from the overhead bin, you look up at him—noticing him searching.

  You peek over the top edge of your seat just as Jooheon appears to have found who he was looking for, giving a curt nod of acknowledgement. “I’ll meet you outside,” he says, nodding over his shoulder to signal when they exit the plane. You squint, studying the people, before your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, instantly recognizing the larger built man a few aisles back from you who seems to nod a reply to Jooheon.

  “He was here too?” You blurt out,  without thinking, memories immediately flashing back to the night you’d been drunk and that man had taken you home. You grimace, sinking down in your seat a bit and hoping he doesn’t see you.

  Your outburst causes Jooheon to glance down at you in surprise, lips twitching in amusement at your reaction and the way you attempt to hide yourself. “Of course. Hoseok’s my bodyguard. And kind of an assistant, since he keeps track of all my schedules.”

  “Why’d you sit with me instead of the person you came on this trip with?”

  Jooheon shrugs. “You’re much more interesting. Plus, I see him every day.”

  You frown, but before you can reply, Jooheon reaches down behind you where you sit, backpack on, and gives the hook strap on your bag a tug, urging you to your feet. The two aisles ahead of you move to make their exit, marking it as your turn next. Jooheon turns away as you stand, stepping out of the aisle—and his next action catches you by surprise. He steps out enough to block others from cutting out and ahead, nodding for you to go first. Blinking in surprise, you almost trip as you rush out of the aisle so as to not hold up the line, feeling Jooheon keep close behind you as he follows.

  You don’t realize until you’re off the plane that Jooheon has an ulterior motive by letting you exit first. As soon as you’ve cleared the bridge connecting the plane to the terminal gate, and have stepped out into the waiting area, Jooheon steps forward from behind you and slips his hand into your own. He takes a firm hold, tugging you along as he leads you off. 

  “Hey!” Surprised, you stumble after him, having not even had a chance to figure out what your next step after arrival would be—you’d traveled back in time, and it was almost nine o’clock at night on a Friday in Los Angeles. You needed to figure out a form of transportation home, first and foremost, before things started to close down. “J-Jooheon!”

  The sound of his name slows his pace down, and Jooheon glances over his shoulder at you with a quirked brow—but he doesn’t stop walking. “That’s the second time you’ve said my name.”

  You frown, staring at him. Had he been counting such a thing? You hadn’t really been aware you’d said his name so little… but you had been avidly avoiding the use of it. You didn’t want to give him too much power by using his name. It was better, you thought, to just keep him as a stranger. That’s what you’d thought the night of the opening ceremony and the nights following where he’d constantly tormented the gaping hole in your memory. Unfortunately, he’d pushed past that boundary line already—something you were well aware of. Lee Jooheon was more like an acquaintance now, and as much as you hated it—it was too late to turn back.

  “We’re going to go get food,” he announces when you don’t say anything to his statement, turning away from you to keep leading you on.

  You give your hand a tug, attempting to pull it back to yourself. “We don’t need to, though—”

  “Nonsense, I’m starving. The plane meals weren't that filling.” Jooheon glances over his shoulder at you again. “And like I said, you’re much more interesting to spend time with. I’m not done doing so yet—as soon as you leave this airport, who knows when I’ll see you again, or if you’ll even use that phone number I put in your cell? LA’s a much bigger city than Seoul, we might not cross paths at all while we’re here.”

  “Why does that matter?” You grumble. You wanted to keep things at the acquaintance level.

  Jooheon shrugs. “Matters to me. But please, just indulge me for a bit. I’m stuck here for at least a week having to do work. I might not get to see anything outside of a hotel for the entire time.”

  You sigh, but give up trying to pull your hand back to you. Jooheon doesn’t free you of his grasp until you’re being seated. As you stop outside the restaurant he’s chosen, you can’t help but stare up at the sign on the wall for the Mexican food eatery, grimacing. Jooheon catches the face you make as you sit across from him—and when your eyes meet as you take your seat, and you realize he’d seen you make the face, you let out another sigh.

  “Did we really have to eat here? Airport food is so expensive.”

  “It’s quick and convenient. Plus, I’m paying.”

  “What?” You shake your head. You already owed him, you didn’t want more added on. “No, definitely not.”

  “You’re indulging me, so I’ll be the one to handle the bill.” Jooheon reaches across the table, tapping the menu that had been set down in front of you by the waiter before they had disappeared. After doing so, Jooheon pulls his phone out of his pocket and busies himself with it.

  You purse your lips, scanning the limited menu options. The downside to airport food, besides the price, was how little there was to choose from. That being said, it made making a final decision a lot easier and faster. When the waiter comes back around—the two of you being among the very few people sitting to eat at that time of night—you both place your order with ease.

  Just as the waiter leaves, Jooheon’s phone rings. He glances at the phone face to see who’s calling, before answering in Korean. While the voice on the other end of the line speaks, you decide to pull your own phone out of your bag that you’d brought with you. Having been dragged away by Jooheon, you hadn’t had a chance to turn your phone off airplane mode. You do so, and then wait for the onslaught of messages to pour through.

  “Hey,” Jooheon says from across the table. You glance up from your phone to look at him, just as your finger pushes the little slider to turn airplane mode off. “What does your luggage look like?”

  For a moment, you just stare at Jooheon, confused.

  “It’s Hoseok, he’s at baggage claim.”

  “Oh.” The word falls from your lips slowly as his words settle into your mind, realization dawning on you. That’s right—you’d been dragged away so fast you’d also forgotten about your checked luggage that you had to pick up. “Uh, it’s a larger black suitcase. I have a yellow ribbon tied to it.”

  Jooheon nods, repeating the information to Hoseok. As he does so, you overhear him follow up by telling his bodyguard-assistant that the two of you are eating, and apologizing profusely for running off. It’s clear from the tone the conversation takes that Jooheon isn’t going to be let off easy, despite being the boss. You zone out, then, instead returning your focus back to your own phone. But the screen contents are empty when you tap the screen to wake the phone from sleep, unlocking it.

  The lack of any sort of notification causes you to frown. Of course, it was past nine now, so you doubted anyone here that was waiting for you to arrive actually cared about you arriving. This entire trip had been a guilt trip, and was an inconvenience for you. You were sure drama would start as soon as you arrived home. It was likely no one had even stayed up to greet you, so why would anyone bother to check and see if your flight had gone well? There had been minimal communication leading up to your departure, anyway.

  Doing the math in your head, you count back, figure that it’s a little after one in the afternoon back in Korea. The fact that there was no message from Kihyun, either, was a little deterring—considering it was a weekend in the middle of the afternoon. But then you remembered he had asked you to call him when you landed. Mentally chastising yourself, you open your text messages and send him a quick text, letting him know you’ve landed and were grabbing some food, and would call him a little later.

  “You okay?” Jooheon asks, now off the phone. He’d been sitting there quietly for a few moments, watching your expression turn increasingly sour.

  Hearing his voice, you startle in surprise—having not even realized he’d gone silent. You fumble with your phone, locking it quickly—slightly guiltily—and pull your gaze back up to him. Not long ago, you’d been trying to get out of eating with him and slip away as fast as you possibly could. But, now you realize it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t like you had anywhere to go.

   “Yeah, fine,” you mumble sheepishly.

  Jooheon clicks his tongue, reaching for the glass of water the waiter had set on the table when seating the two of you. “That’s a lie,” he says, before taking a drink. “But I won’t press.”

  Before you can react to that, wondering how Jooheon would know such a thing was a lie, your waiter returns with your food. The way you can feel your expression instantly lighten on your face, your stomach growling in response to the delectable scent—you realize that’s how Jooheon had known you were lying. Thinking about what you were returning home too had dampened your mood enough that it was visible on your face. But the smell of the expensive, yet delicious-looking, airport food had lightened it back up.

  Jooheon smiles softly, watching you, amused at how easily food motivated you seemed to be. He gives a quiet thanks to the waiter before joining you, taking a bite of the tacos that had been ordered. The two of you eat in silence, for the most part. The only questions Jooheon asks are if you like the food, just as he had done on the plane, and how long you’ll be in Los Angeles for. Neither answer illicit much of a further reaction from him, or push him to speak more—and so you finish your shared meal together quite quickly—and thankfully before things get awkward with the staff as the restaurant nears closing time.

  You wait by the entrance while Jooheon finishes up paying. As he turns away from the counter, he sticks the receipt he was given in his wallet, before shoving that into the pocket of his sweatpants, walking over to meet you. You offer up a smile as he stops next to you.

  “Thanks for the food.” “Thank you for eating with me,” Jooheon replies, returning your smile. He can’t help but take note of how soft, and slightly shy, the way your lips appear to be turned up on your face. It’s cute. Before much more can be said, his phone goes off in his pocket.

  The sound makes you a bit jealous, and you watch as Jooheon pulls the device out and studies the name on the screen. He lets out a very long sigh before he answers the phone—and you’re almost surprised it’s in Korean, again.

  “I just finished eating,” you hear Jooheon say, and you turn away as he speaks on the phone.

  As you do so, you blink, catching sight of something—or rather, someone—peculiar.

  “Daniel?” The name falls from your lips with confusion, but with a raised-enough voice that the owner of the name—the person walking towards you—lifts their head in answer, confirming your suspicion.

  Jooheon, standing behind you, hears your voice not only against his ears—but he also hears it echo within his phone receiver, as well. Blinking in confusion, he pulls his cell phone away from his ear just enough to stare at it, surprised and confused, before turning around slowly. Jooheon looks at you, first, then lifts his gaze up to see what you’re staring at with such a surprised expression.

  “Changkyun.”

  You glance over your shoulder at Jooheon, hearing a name fall from his lips that isn’t a question—but rather, a statement. Seeing where Jooheon is staring, you look back.

  Daniel—or Changkyun—stops dead in his tracks where he’s walking, the cell phone he’s holding to his ear frozen there. He stares, dumbfounded, looking between you and Jooheon. After a few moments, your name falls from his lips in surprise—out of breath and nostalgic, the familiarity of it hits you like a wave. And then, his next word that follows has you blanching in surprise, looking once again back over your shoulder at Jooheon.

  “Uh, hi, Boss.”

  Jooheon purses his lips, lowering his phone from his ear and hanging up the call. He shoves the device back into his pocket. “You’re late.”

  “S-sorry, you know how LA traffic is.”

  “You two know each other?” You blurt, suddenly, just as Daniel nears the two of you, slowly coming to a stop.

  “I want to ask the same thing.” As he speaks, Jooheon quirks a brow at you.

  “Actually,” Changkyun clears his throat. “Same.”

  “This is the best friend-general manager that I was telling you about on the flight, for our LA location,” Jooheon explains, before nodding in your direction. “And she’s my favorite small-time journalist in Seoul.”

  Favorite small-time journalist. The words ring in your head, and you’re suddenly propelled back to weeks ago when you had found yourself wondering if Jooheon had a hand in how well your article had been doing. You purse your lips, but decide not to say anything.

  It’s Changkyun’s turn to quirk a brow, but you’re too busy turning the rest of Jooheon’s words over in your head to react. It takes a moment before your eyes suddenly widen. Your head snaps up in the direction of Daniel, eyebrows shooting up in surprise and mouth falling open. “You?! A general manager?!”

  “Wow, the lack of faith in your incredulous reaction is a testament to your faith in me,” Changkyun mutters, tone dripping with sarcasm. All you do is shake your head, still in disbelief, before looking back at Jooheon.

  “We went to high school together,” you reply simply. “And middle school, actually. We’ve been friends since then.”

  “Speaking of, why are you back? Are you here for—” Before Changkyun can finish his sentence, you loudly cut him off.

  “Oh! Look! Hoseok has the luggage!” And before waiting for either of the men next to you to react, you push past Daniel in a rush, heading towards Jooheon’s bodyguard. Changkyun blinks, surprised, meeting Jooheon’s eyes before looking over his shoulder at you. Jooheon simply shrugs, following after you a little more slowly.

  “How are you getting home?” Jooheon asks as he catches back up to you, watching as Hoseok relinquishes your luggage back to your own possession.

  You give Hoseok a small thanks, turning back. “I’m just going to call an Uber or Lyft.”

  Jooheon frowns, before looking at Changkyun. “How close are you two?”

  “Uh… close, I guess? Our families know each other, and we keep in touch, albeit inconsistently because of work.”

  “Perfect. Let her borrow your car.”

  In unison, you and Changkyun both blurt out, “What?”

  “It’s late, and it’s safer. We can just get the Uber. This way you can just head home,” Jooheon explains, matter-of-factly. “And if you two went to  school together and your families are familiar with each other, I’m sure you know where to pick your car up.”

  “Hey,” you mutter, scowling at Jooheon. “That’s not really for you to decide—”

  Changkyun sighs, waving you off. “It’s fine, it’s not a big deal. He has the right idea. You live like twenty minutes away from here, anyway.” 

  You frown, wanting to argue further—but you feel Jooheon’s intense gaze on you and figure it probably won’t get you very far. But to just make that decision on his own, without asking… you cut Jooheon a look of annoyance before turning your attention back to Changkyun as he fishes his car keys out of his pocket, pulling the car key off and taking the remaining keys on the ring. He hands it over to you, briefly explaining he’d left the car in the loading port after convincing the attendant outside that he’d only be a short amount of time, urging you should likely go soon so as to not result in his car being towed. You nod, thanking him and giving him a quick hug, before turning to Jooheon.

  Lifting Changkyun’s car key menacingly, you glare. “Don’t you dare use this as an excuse to see me and come with him and pick the car up, got it? I appreciate your concern and I’ll accept it this time—but I’m not happy about it.”

  And before he can answer, you gather your things and turn on your heel, heading away. You hear Jooheon let out an audible laugh as he watches your retreating figure. He smiles, watching you leave, and waits until you’re out of earshot before turning to Changkyun.

  “High school friends, huh? What a coincidence.”

  “That’s the girl you’ve been bugging me about?” Changkyun crosses his arms, frowning. “If so, I don’t think coincidence even begins to cover it.”

  Jooheon tilts his head to the side, curious.

  “She’s the one, right? The failed contract you mentioned?” Changkyun prompts, before letting out a bitter chuckle as Jooheon nods. He shakes his head, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Ha… I can’t even be surprised, with the divorce and all…”

  “Divorce?” Jooheon echoes.

  Changkyun frowns. “My statement that she dodged earlier. Why she’s back here… her parents are getting a divorce. Long time coming, honestly, and she probably got dragged back into it. There’s… a lot in that household that’s worth escaping, to be honest. Which makes sense why she sought you out.”

  “If it makes so much sense, then why’d the contract fail?”

  “Do you really not know?” Changkyun wonders, quirking an eyebrow as he levels his gaze with Jooheon’s.

  “I’m not here to play guessing games, Changkyun,” Jooheon mutters. “It just happened to be convenient that you showed up to see who I was referring to, and coincidence that you know her and we were on the same flight. But I’ve been venting all this to you for the past few months because I’m at an utter loss as to why the contract would have failed. I’m not all-knowing, despite what people may think. Now that you’ve seen her, I’m assuming you have an answer. So, spill.”

  Changkyun smirks, stepping forward to place a hand on Jooheon’s shoulder. “My Lordship… that girl is your soulmate.”

  Soulmate.

  Before the word even processes, Jooheon is scoffing, to which Changkyun tsks.

  “You were human at one point, too. We all have one. Even you, the King of Hell,” Changkyun chastises. “I’m guessing you probably can’t see it, or you would’ve caught on much sooner—but her aura, it reads totally differently when she’s next to you in comparison to when she was walking away. It’s quite interesting to see this in person, I’ve only ever heard of it happening a few times through sources.”

  Jooheon frowns, studying Changkyun’s face for any sign of a lie. Soulmate. Another person with which one had a natural affinity and deeper connection toward. The connection was often instantaneous and natural—and strong enough that one would feel themselves drawn to that other person in every single way while simultaneously bringing about a sense of peace and calm. Jooheon wanted to scoff again. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in them. He’d seen the magic at work for others. But, for himself?

  And yet, so many things made sense. His anxiety eased when near you. The entire plane trip, everything had been calm. A sort of calm he’d never experienced before. Just as much as things had been calm, though, every touch had set ablaze his nerve endings. He hadn’t experienced such a nervousness in someone else’s presence in years.

  What an ironic twist of fate this had to be—the universe was definitely playing games with him, now. He was well aware he’d pissed off many higher powers over the years… but to do this to him? Send him his own soulmate, on a silver platter, begging to make a contract with the Devil? Begging for release? Begging to forget?

  To forget…

  Jooheon blinks, realization dawning on him—the migraines you’d mentioned. He lets out an audible groan, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. Of course that would be a side effect. While he had never had a contract fail in the past, unless a soul really wasn’t set on release—a broken contract could amount to many side effects, some more serious than others. In most cases, Jooheon had witnessed the failed cases simply go insane. But since your request had been so definite and simple, it made sense that it would backfire with a physical manifestation like this.

  That’s why she doesn’t remember me.

  “Changkyun, I need a drink,” Jooheon mutters, brushing past both him and Hoseok. The two share a look, and Changkyun stares after Jooheon in confusion, before trailing after in a hurry.

[fluorescencefuture]

Homestuck^2: How I’d write the Omega Kids (and the Candy timeline villains)

I haven't reread Homestuck nor the epilogues in a while so correct me if I'm wrong with anything here. This was all in one go, too, so I probably missed something here or there. I'm also not a native English speaker so pardon some grammar errors.

In General

I’d give them a five-letter name scheme. Names of a group being the same length was a big deal in original HS (human first names had four letters, troll names had six, Ancestors had eight-letter titles, Cherubs had eight letters too, etc.), so it’s odd seeing this new group have names of varying length

I’d also give them all shirt symbols. It’s odd that something so iconic to Homestuck isn’t present in the new kids, either.

I'll write for both the canon post-canon with evil Jane and for my own version with different villains. Evil Jane happens because a highblood troll who hears of the old ways of Alternia attempts to kill her and take her crown, as she's technically the heiress. Jane wins, but she starts to see trolls and Alternian culture in a different light from then on. At first she was only trying to prevent the worst parts of Alternian culture from coming back, but over time grew to despise trolls, and ended up trying to force human culture onto Alternians.

The other Candy villains are a dangerous terrorist rebel group that wants to overthrow the creators and destroy them. They say the creators made the people, abandoned the people for years, then suddenly came back and decided they control the people. The group is made of humans, trolls, carapacians, and even consorts. The mysterious shadowed leader claims to be doing this for the people, but really, all they want is to have control for themselves, and they don't care if any innocents get in the way.

Harry Anderson

Has nothing to fix, he’s perfect as is

Okay but seriously, the guy is the kid with the least questionable things around him. He has no baggage from sharing the same name as an established character (ICP Harry Anderson doesn’t count), and he didn’t come from infidelity.

He also has actual color to his personality. He likes musicals and sewing. He has a good relationship with his dad. Like many kids with divorced parents, he wishes his parents were together again. What do the others have? Vrissy is just a slightly less aggressive Vriska. Tavros is just OG Tavros and Jake combined. Yiffy’s thing is being a dog girl named Yiffany Longstocking. The others could be fleshed out eventually, but with the slow pace and meandering plot we have right now, I doubt it.

If Jane's the villain, things would mostly go the same way. If Jane isn't the villain, it goes two ways: he decides to join Vrissy's guerilla anti-anti-creator group and fight because he wants to protect his parents, or he's just very anti-conflict and avoids the fight because he doesn't think he's up to it. He's frequently threatened but doesn't tell his parents about the threats. Eventually, he gets convinced to join and fight.

Vrissy

So Vrissy’s in relationships with guys who are technically her cousins. At first I was like “well, they’re not biologically related nor were they raised as family so it’s not weird”. But then Tavros called Kanaya “Aunt Kanaya” and now I’m thinking “oh god, that’s really weird”.

Now she’s just a troll girl from school. She's just close to Kanaya and Rose, but isn’t their kid. She isn’t related to anyone. Anyone except Vriska, who she was named after. Vrissy’s new nickname is just Vriss.

Alternatively, her name is something completely different. Honestly, it just seemed like a way to shoehorn in a Vriska for the story. Only for actual Vriska to come back anyway.

Uhh, Eshtha (from Jyeshtha, a Hindu nakshatra Scorpius is associated with)? Oriona (from Orion, the myth where Scorpius is mostly attributed to)? Naiaka (from Manaiakalani, as Hawaiians saw Scorpius as the demigod Maui’s fishhook)? Oh wait, I’ll have to make nicknames for those names too. Uh, Eshty, Riona, and Naiah.

Maybe have her have a personality that’s rather opposite to Vriska’s than have her as Vriska 2. She's more a perky goth, more cheerful and sweet. More "I knew you could do it!" than "So you can do something after all." A beast in battle, of course. She doesn't like to use her mind control powers, because she finds them disturbing.

If Vriska had to come back, the conflict would come from their conflicting personalities. Vriska would pretty much act the same way she did to (Vriska), but this time, Vriss doesn't take any of it and stands her ground.

Whether the villain is Jane or not, she's the one who decides to fight back, and she gets her friends and others to join her. The creators have been nothing but good to her, and she cares about them a lot, especially Rose and Kanaya. Not to mention they're also her friends' parents.

Tavros

Yeah, we’re gonna have to rename that kid. It never made sense to me why Jake and Jane named their kid after some guy they don’t know that well. I don’t remember everything from the Epilogues, but I’ll assume the reason was Gamzee or something. Also weird that Jane, who’s supposed to be racist to trolls, would just...let her kid be named after one.

Something old-ish would work. Flynn? Silas? Avery? Clyde? Niles? Louie?

He's moirails with this Vriss instead of kismeses. The Vrissy/Tavros kismesis also felt like re-hashing the kismesis that Vriska and OG Tavros kinda had.

If we went post-canon villain Jane, he'd be reluctant to join the rebellion and is more of a pacifist who would rather try to talk his mom out of it.

Alternatively, Jane and Jake are separated (but not divorced) and he lives with Jake. Because Jane was never terrible to him and Jake doesn't tell him how bad she's gotten, he disagrees with her but still tries to justify and rationalize that Jane's really doing it from a place of good intentions.

If the villain isn't Jane, then Jane and Jake have been hiding him away, and his friends can only see him when they visit him at his swanky home. You might say he's...housetrapped. He joins because his friends are in it, and doesn't quite grasp how serious things are until the rebels try to kill Jane (the rebels try to kill Jane first because you always kill the healer first).

He's in contact with a mysterious guide who's kinda spacy and a little terrifying at times. His friends think the guide might just be some creepy predator. It's revealed to be Candy Gamzee, out of the fridge and legitimately harmless, but untraceable and doing mysterious things behind the black. Again.

Come to think of it, Dirk's missing too...

Yiffany Longstocking

Yiffy is now the ectokid of Dave and Jade. She looks more like a DaveJade kid than JadeRose, really. Dave and Jade are also either happily married or coming close to an amicable divorce. Yeah, the toxic shit Jade did and the erasure of Dave's bisexuality also don't exist here. Jade, Dave, Karkat, and Terezi are backing Vrissy's anti-anti-creator group.

Her new name is something unisex. Riley? Logan? Robin? Sloan? Salem?

She spends a lot of time outside doing sports and doesn't talk much. She's not very close to the other three kids, but she's surprisingly pretty close to her Aunt Rose.

While Jade and Dave are out on a mission for Karkat (this is the mission Candy Dave dies), she gets kidnapped by the opposing force (Jane/the terrorists). She gets a shock collar forced on her, then is hidden away in a Boarding School for Inconvenient Girls, enrolled under the name "Yiffany Longstocking". Jade comes home to find that her family's been taken from her. Again.

Yiffy almost escapes, but she gets knocked out and taken back to base, where they lock her in a cage and treat her like a dog. She's still defiant to the end.

If Jane's the villain, Jake is inspired by Yiffy's defiance, grows some balls, exposes Yiffy's treatment to the press, and sets her free. She beats up the guards trying to stop her. Jake gets surrounded by more guards. In response, he pulls out his pistols and a one-liner, and bam, cliffhanger.

If it's the terrorist group, Terezi picks up on Yiffy's scent when they're in a base, and she's saved by the other three kids, where she immediately turns around and beats the crap out of the guards. They become proper friends from there.

The reunion panel still happens and this time it's her reuniting with her loving mother and aunt instead of...y'know.

BONUS: Sadstuck

Harry gets his own “im not a hero” speech after trying and “failing” to be the hero that John was

Vriss is eventually forced to use her mind control powers. It’s either a “Katara using bloodbending" situation, or she forces her friends to leave her behind when they want to stick by her.

Tavros finally witnesses his mother’s true nature when Jake defeats all the guards, but is stabbed from behind by Jane and killed. In the other version, it seems Jane is finally safe and able to come home to her son. Then she’s killed right in front of him.

After the big hug with Jade and Rose, Yiffy pulls away. She smiles, looks around behind them, and asks “Where’s Dad?”

So, please tell me what you think!

[sharpen-jadescythe]

Operation Kitten, 2

Part Two: Sharpen attempts to match wits with Mathias Shaw, himbo vs. spymaster. And we find out about Agent Kitten!

I trusted my gut again and went with it. I had every right to still be furious about the way things were run in the SI:7 Seals so I really put it to him. “But I haven’t seen these values in the SI:7 Seals. Not anywhere. Even if I did join to help you clean things up or whatever you’re implying. Not within these four walls, not in these barracks, not in any of the instructors, and Elune knows, there wasn’t a decent fool among the other recruits. Those ethics just aren’t there.”

“Mack. Go get us some water.” Mathias Shaw glanced up at the giant Kul Tiran man standing there, glowering at me.

Big Mack shifted his feet, gave a final grunt my way, then he nodded to Mathias and left us alone in the interrogation room.

Mathias arched an eyebrow at me. For a spy guy, he can come across as very phony. Or, dramatic. Perhaps he thinks it’s cute. You know, cleverer than the average bear, making fun of the profession he’s fully versed in? A way for him to keep things light. And so maybe it is cute, okay fine.

Mathias pointed at me again, as if still haggling over that beat down nag he was trying to sell me. “I hope you’re not thirsty, Sharp. You’re not really getting any water—”

“Look. I can follow things at least that far. So what’s up? What’s this big secret you want to tell me, alone?”

“It’s on a need-to-know basis. Big Mack deals with recruits and he’s high up the chain. He does know, but it’s best if he’s not seen as knowing. Locked up in a room for a really long time with a so-called failed recruit? Too obvious. That is, if any of the others are as decent as you proved to be, and they get suspicious.”

“…Okay. What?”

“That, in itself, was the test. We’re looking for fit men and women, for tough people. Yes, that’s true. But we’re also recruiting people who genuinely espouse the values of the Alliance. People who would serve because they care, not necessarily for a paycheck. A lot of stellar men and women apply, yes. And some of them do come from connections that are already inside the Seals, milking us for what we’ll let them get away with while they do important work. However, we can’t ignore that kind of talent, either. If a cousin of King Anduin Wrynn or Jaina Proudmoore walks through these doors, can we really turn away that magical or mental ability running through their veins? But once they get through those doors, we take a closer look. We take people who show us they are far more than pedigree. Only very good men and women. Sharpen, you are such a one.”

I have to admit, Jiroki? I was still completely lost.

Mathias cleared his throat, “So that Dwarf? You know the one, you actually almost blew his cover once, telling Hael he was trying too hard. Hael was our a plant. Hael tried to keep you up with drinking the night before the exam because we asked him to. You wouldn’t fall for it, though. And that death-defying swim across icy waters? Hael can swim like a fish! He was never in any danger, even that shark of his was Hael’s backup.”

“Wait—that was his shark? His hunter pet?!”

Mathias gave a proud smirk, “Ho, yes. And Hael knows a good recruit when he sees one, a fellow hunter. Sharpen, he liked you. He was hoping you’d give in and try to save his life out there in the water—or rather, at least what appeared to be an emergency situation to you. We were really hoping you’d pass that part of the test, that you weren’t like the others. Life first, serving the Light. That is what the Alliance stands for, the greater good. I was willing to make an allowance, that perhaps you were just afraid for your own life. You’d passed all the other tests with flying colors.

“So wait. Milnon Anaar that Draenei? And Felicia Graves, the half mermaid—”

“She’d be a quarter-mermaid then, Sharpen.”

“They both failed the test? But they were superstars. They really, honestly failed?”

“All of them did. Sharpen, everyone in your class got cut.”

I didn’t think, I threw my arms up and let out a celebratory ‘Woop!’ before realizing I’d done it.

Mathias smiled at me. It was the first real smile that I remember seeing on that man.

“Yes, well done. Well done, Agent Sharpen. We recruited from excellent stock. You had the right values all along—we would have preferred that you saved Agent Hael out in the arctic ocean instead of punching him in the face. But then again, you punched me in the face as well and, once I came to, and after I put certain accounts together from those who witnessed things on the beach, it made more sense that you were experiencing a kind of moral outrage. A breach of the ethic code that you yourself live by and that we also live by here at SI:7.”

“…Woah.”

“It may take a few years, and maybe even not that long for the ones using us for fame and fortune to eventually retire. But I’d say our recruitment process that sifts the wheat from the chaff is well in place and functioning. Sharpen, you’re in.”

I thought things over fully this time, “I guess if you’re allowed to punch Mathias Shaw and still be an SI:7 Seal, that is a good sign.”

“If you tell your buddies that’s the way to pass the test, I will punch you where the sun don’t shine, Sharpen Jadescythe, and leave you there.”

I shook my head at him, “Nice to have the honor, but I still don’t like this.”

“Why not?”

“You can’t place all that burden on me, the man to fix your organization. Or other people like me. New recruits, naked to the process. I hit you in the face and screamed that I was a decent person who didn’t want to put up with it, that’s what it took? And all those amoral guys at the top—those are the agents calling the shots. Those are the ones I’ll be dropped off in who-knows-where with, following their orders. This is still a corrupt organization. And I’m supposed to go and risk my life for you? No thank you.”

Mathias scowled rubbed his temples. Jiroki, you and him have that in common, it’s kind of cute. Well, coming from you, it’s cute.

He was gruff, “I can see your sister’s influence coming through. Sharpen, please don’t throw this once-in-a-lifetime chance away? Please, don’t do that. A lot of good can be done.” He growled, “I don’t want to call you a himbo for a second time.”

I stood up right then and there. “I want to leave.”

“And do I have to bring up your questionable connections with the Horde, especially through a certain burlesque troupe that claims to be faction-neutral, but we both know such a thing doesn’t exist.”

“You’re trying to blackmail me?”

“Doing one mission for the Seals is a great way to confirm your loyalty for the Alliance.”

“Walking out of here and not punching you in the face again is another way I can think of! In any case, I’m not on trial here, I didn’t commit any crimes. You can’t hold me here.”

“Unless—”

“If you want to bring up in a Boralus court that I punched you, Mathias Shaw, in the face, and tht you let me? And then you were laid flat out on the beach for several hours before they got the courage to move you? Heck, that’s your call.”

Mathias cursed under his breath. “Sit, please. At least for this last part before you go.”

I did, who knows why. Maybe because Mathias had pulled a file out of the box on the table, and I thought it might be about me. I saw writing in Darnassian on the front.

“You tried to keep a man here by corrupt means. You tried to blackmail me—now isn’t that the very thing we were just talking about? Call me a himbo again if you dare, Mathias. But I listen to my instincts first and foremost. They’ve kept me alive so far, they’ve kept me sane. And I sure sniffed you out, didn’t I? This isn’t a solid organization. It isn’t ethical what you all do here. And don’t give me that crap about how spies need to cross the line sometimes, I’ve heard it all before. Whatever you want to get over on me, it’s not going to work. Now what is that thing?”

“Oh, you’ve heard it before, have you? From your sister?” Mathias passed the dark blue folder over to me. “We do trust you, Sharpen. We want to extend some trust as a starting point. Some months ago, a man came in here just like you did. Another Night Elf man who had the same concerns. I told him, as I’m telling you now, that he could choose his own assignments, work with who he wanted. Especially if he wanted to avoid the corrupt higher-ups. That means you’ll have sort of… grunt work, and none of the real thrilling stuff when working as an SI:7 Seal isn’t a vacation and you’re bound to tangle with personalities, but still—I offered him a clean, good foundation to start with.”

“This his file?”

“Go on, open it. You’ve already signed a nondisclosure contract with us, so I know you won’t blab anything. I’m betting though, that you won’t want to.” Mathias watched me flip through the pages inside, he waited for me to get the gist of it. And that would have been easy to read all over my face. “… Night Elf druid Silas Freedale, one of our more recent and our very best, the excellent swimmer, he went off to Ashenvale to find something extremely important for the Alliance, and indeed for your people.” Shaw crossed his arms again, “But since he never came back, we need someone, someone incorruptible with a real vested interest, to go and find out what happened to him.”

“Is he dead?”

Mathias stared at me.

“Oh! I’m finding that out, then.” I turned a few more pages. “That is, if I even take this assignment. If I even agree to become a Seal.”

“What would you like your codename to be, Raorin?”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“You could keep Sharpen. It already sounds like a mysterious spy name. Or even the name of a whole operation. Or, you could go by Agent Jadescythe.”

I frowned, “Flattery? That, I can appreciate. That’s a little less slimy… A world tree! This is about a new world tree? And it’s called Operation Kitten?”

“That’s right. Because our deep cover catform agent most likely got stuck up the very world tree he was supposed to find. The tree hasn’t even been named yet. We just know that he located it, that he chose to go up. But no details on where or exactly when that was. There were… stories about this new world tree for a long time before Agent Kitten found it, from your own druids.”

“My personal druids?”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to lump all the Night Elves together. But the druids that work in Ashenvale, tireslessly to save it from the Horde ravaging the land, ruining the forest, they have a pretty reliable oral tradition that says there is another world tree growing right on the border between Ashenvale and the Barrens. Do you know how important such a stronghold could become? The raw power of a world tree itself—if we could find it, and fortify it, your people might be safe from the Horde, forever.”

“How can anyone be safe from the Horde forever? Not unless the Horde is neutralized. Is that how you see it? There are plans in this file outlining a full scale assault on the Barrens, extending as far as the Crossroads. And once you control that, it’s not long till Orgrimmar is in a pincer, with Alliance forces on both sides.”

“There go those dangerous Horde leanings again—”

“Did it ever occur to you that peace might be an option? Respecting the Horde’s side of things, while they respect ours? Perhaps a trade agreement so that they cull the right trees and not the wrong ones? Their people need to eat and survive too, you know. And that’s harsh land they took on, in that part of Kalimdor.”

Mathias let out a low whistle, that I could not be more wrong.

I insisted, “And don’t look at me like that, kingdoms have shared borders before. Just look at Ironforge, you know the Dwarf lands? Stormwind and the Dwarves get along fine.”

“I’ve been told the Night Elves, you younger ones, are bound to have these upside down world views.”

“With respect. I am three hundred years old, sir.”

“And you act like you’re twenty. Like the conflicts these past few decades didn’t happen to you, personally, at all. Like you aren’t affected. The Horde is not a sovereign kingdom, Sharpen. It is a mess. It is an invading army that came to Azeroth to destroy life and civilization on this planet for the Burning Legion, reduce it to rubble no different from Outland, or Argus. The Horde did not manage it because the Alliance stood up to them. End of story. And don’t tell me things have changed since Thrall or Vol’jin or damn her—Sylvanas! As if Garrosh wasn’t the big tip off, and you talk about ethics not being present.” Mathias raised his voice at me, he was so frustrated, “We are life and they are death! Do you understand me, Agent Sharpen?”

“And do you understand that if I do take this assignment, I’m not killing any Horde unless I have to. I’m not killing anyone unless I need to.”

“If you go to the last page, you’ll see we’ve actually asked you for the same. We don’t want you to engage any Horde at all if you can help it. We don’t want them finding a world tree of all things. A death that doesn’t look natural gets investigated and then that will, in time, blow our cover. It could take years to gain control of that tree, and we don’t need a bunch of evidence piling up that it exists and the Alliance wants it that badly, in the meantime.”

I read that part, pinned to the end with a paperclip like it was an after thought. ‘No Horde deaths, no Horde engagement’ it said.

Mathias was very impatient now that he knew I’d read it all. “…Well?”

I told him, “I would come home successful, because I would. I’d find this lost feral druid and then the Alliance would take over that World Tree. And then you would use it to cut off the rest of the Barrens, cut off the Tauren from the Orcs finally. Right?”

“What comes next really is up to King Anduin.”

“But you’ll be in his ear like a buzzing hornet, and he’d have to do what you insist is the best way to ‘neutralize the threat’.”

“Look, Sharpen. I don’t see what the problem is? You’re a soldier for the Alliance. You’ve killed Horde before. You know that it’s essential.”

“In a war, in a battle. I say, we could also use this new world tree to prevent more death and suffering. To end conflicts.”

“So you say.”

“World trees are not about destroying. You want it so badly, but you don’t know the first thing about it.”

“You’re wrong. Do I need to state the obvious?” Mathias meant our tree. Our beloved Teldrassil that was lost. He leaned in, his leather gear creaked, “And what do you think the Horde would do, under Warchief Sylvanas, if they found a second world tree so close to their doorstep?”

“More emotional blackmail? That’s incredibly low, considering we Kaldorei never had enough support from the Alliance in Ashenvale in the first place!”

“It isn’t that, Agent Sharpen. But I do want you to see, somewhere between your values and mine, your world where people can play nice with monsters—you’re a hunter, maybe that’s where it comes from? Or perhaps it was because practically your entire family was down near Suramar of all places when Teldrassil was attacked. Which I always found interesting considering your sister’s intelligence work. And your family’s assassin “friend” Alessandre…”

“Don’t go there. Don’t you dare. I faced extinction along with the rest of my people on that day.”

“All I want you to see is that you don’t have a choice, Agent Sharpen. You must get to that world tree first before the Horde does, however King Anduin decides to handle things.”

I crossed my arms, “I also wonder why Tyrande, who has led our people since the beginning and is a walking agent of good, has been for thousands of years, now has to listen to the counsel of a boy Anduin’s age. Or any Human’s age.” I did have a point. Mathias let me have that. “I want the findings shared with Malfurion and Tyrande first, before anything goes to Anduin.”

“No, Sharpen. I can’t promise you that.”

“And you can’t trust that I won’t do it myself, in that case, considering my family connections. It’s amazing you’re not going through Darnassus to start with.” I tossed the file back to him, let some of the papers fly out. One whipped up into his face. I had pretty good aim, I was proud. “Those are my terms, Mathias Shaw.” Then, I thought better of it, “When I am done, I will deliver my mission report in a meeting with King Anduin and Tyrande and Malfurion, all of them in the same room. In Stormwind Keep.”

Mathias shrugged, looked elsewhere. “If I can pull them all together and their schedules are free.”

“For a new world tree? Now who’s playing dumb.”

Mathias scrunched his face up, as he fit all the papers back into the blue file with gold Darnassian lettering. “Fine. You and I don’t need to agree, Sharpen. You just need to be able to take orders. And, it’d raise the profile of this effort anyway, to do an official handover. You have a deal.” Mathias offered his hand to shake.

“I’ll see you in Stormwind when this is all done, then. I’ll hand over Agent… Kitten, then.”

I admit I grinned like a clever cat, myself.

[miaa4tez]

Season 3, Episode 1 or so help me god... Also available on AO3.

Finally // beautiful stranger 

He sort of thought she’d maybe... say something, after everything. He’d walked home that night a bundle of uncertainty and self-doubt, but for the first time, he actually felt a bit hopeful. He and Maeve couldn’t seem to stop missing one another, and he was damn near determined that this time, it’d be different. 

 

But then the weekend came and went, and he hadn’t heard from her once, and he found himself growing more self-conscious by the second. Had he been too late? Did he miss his chance for real this time? Was she really... over him? 

 

He nearly races to school come Monday morning, a ball of nerves and pent up energy. He tries being happy for Eric as he recounts endless details about his weekend with Adam, really he does, but all he could think is whether Maeve had truly heard his confession of love and felt... nothing. That might just be the thing to do him in for good. 

 

It takes him a few laps through the school but he finally finds her in the library, a book perched on her lap and her thumbnail between her teeth. He nearly loses his nerve, can’t help but stare at her like this for a moment - unguarded, serene - but then he reminds himself that he’s done being an asshole, damnit, and pushes forward. 

 

“Um, Maeve?” Fucking loser. Man up. 

 

He sees her jaw clench, her teeth biting the inside of her cheek, her eyes shut briefly before she flips a page. He hates that he elicits that response from her now. “Studying, dickhead.” 

 

He watches her swallow and her eyes seem to be going over the same line over and over. 

 

He clenches his hands at his side. “Can we talk?” He unclenches his fists, stretches them in the silence. “Please.” 

 

She’s so good at masking her emotions, but he catches a slight hitch as she clears her throat, shuts her book with a definitive thud and stands abruptly. She meets his eyes, cool and steady, and he feels himself shrink under the weight of her gaze. “I’ve got to get to class.” 

 

She pushes past him then, out the door, and for a moment he considers letting her go. Surely she deserves better than him, better than the hurt he’s caused her. But then he spies her jacket left dangling over the couch and his body is moving without his consent.

 

“Look I know I said some stupid things but I really think we ought to talk it out so I could tell you how sorry I am,” he pleads, her jacket draped across his arm as he strides behind her. 

 

She speeds up, forcing him to trail after her. “Not much to talk about then, is there? You’re sorry, so that’s it. We’re good then.” She bites the corner of her thumb, refusing to turn and face him as she weaves through the halls. 

 

“Well I just thought...” He stops short. What did he think, really? “I hadn’t heard from you this weekend,” he mutters instead. 

 

She stops in front of her locker, flicks her eyes to his briefly, searching. He lamely extends her jacket to her and she snags it from him a touch too harsh. “Yeah well. I’ve been busy. Not everything is about you, you know.” 

 

He buries his hands deep in his jacket pockets. He’s a little ashamed it’s taken him this long to congratulate her. “Yeah, no, of course. Sorry. Congratulations, by the way. I saw you on TV.”

 

The corner of her mouth turns up in the barest hint of a smile, but she ignores his attempt to meet her eyes and reaches for her Maths book. “Right. Well it wasn’t just me.” 

 

“You should be proud of yourself, Maeve. They couldn’t have done it without you.”

 

If he’s thawing her at all, she won’t let on. She bites her bottom lip anxiously and slams her locker in a hurry, but he presses on, hands extending then retracting back to his pockets. 

 

“And I just thought we could clear the air, you know. Be friends again?... I’d really like to be your friend again, Maeve. At least.” He shakes his head. This isn’t going well. “I’ve let you down and I know that. And I understand if you didn’t lis-“ 

 

“Otis.” She interrupts him, exhaling his name almost as if she’s got no energy left. He sucks in a breath and looks at her. Sees the hurt swimming in her eyes. “Forget it, okay? We’ve tried being friends but all we do is hurt one another.” She wraps her arms tight around herself, her eyes boring holes into her shoes. “I’ve got enough people in my life to hurt me. I don’t need another.” 

 

She meets his eyes then and he couldn’t save this if he tried. He opens his mouth anyway - foolishly - but whatever he intended to say is drowned out by the class bell. 

 

Her eyes flicker to his once more - pleading him to fight back? Maybe, but she’s pushed past him and out of sight before he can find the words.

 

...

 

She’s basically a ghost for the rest of the week, slipping through the halls in silence and keeping her eyes to the ground. She‘s forgotten how easy it was to go unnoticed in this school, and she both loves and hates how easily she slips back into it. Fleetingly she thinks that she hasn’t seen Otis once, even from the corner of her eye, and it’s not like she cares or anything - she hardly noticed, really, fuck off - but the clinic has been almost nonexistent and she’s got rent due Monday and this spat between them is really fucking with her source of income.

By Friday she’s said maybe ten words total to another human being (three of which being “Piss off, Isaac” when the wanker insisted on perching himself at her doorstep after she refused to answer his calls), but she found herself somewhat comforted by still having people around her. The fact is she hates the idea of going home to an empty trailer almost as much as she doesn’t want to be at school, so she sucks it up and makes plans to ask Aimee if they can walk home together. Thinks maybe she can spend the night there if she asks, too. God, she hates asking for things. 

 

It’s not just Otis she’s avoiding. It’s everything. Her mom, her shitty fucking luck, the reality that of all the Quizheads, she’s least likely to get a full ride scholarship to Uni even though that’s the only way she can realistically afford to go. She knows she‘s destined for more than a shit job at the mall and a double wide with no heat, but she’s certain she was born in the wrong dimension, because in this one life is determined to fuck her over. 

 

Her mind is a tangle of self-doubt but she’s trying her fucking damnedest to silence it all as she waits for Aimee by the school’s entrance, perched against a tree and attempting to focus on Silas Marner - she finds it far superior and the more relatable of George Eliot’s works, no wonder it took her so long to finish Middlemarch - but she’s been standing here for over an hour and Aimee is nowhere to be found. In fact, the front lawn is basically empty aside from a couple stoners and some horny couple grinding on a bench in the corner. She checks her phone, shoots a text to Aimee, waits five minutes for the three dots to pop up and when the message comes through, she feels her heart fall to her feet.

Steve wants to try hugging. Raincheck?

The sun is setting as she walks home alone, a crisp in the air that wasn’t there last week, and she’s trying to match her steps to her heartbeats but it’s proving harder than she’d like. Who says her breathing’s more ragged than usual? Sod off. 

She wishes she hadn’t lent Erin her headphones - she’ll never see those again either - because she could really use something right now to drown out her racing thoughts. She focuses instead on the faded crescent moon rising in the sky, and by the time she walks onto the lot the sky is dark and the only thing she wants is to curl into a ball in her bed and not leave until Monday morning.

She sees the bag from far away, hanging from the door handle of her trailer. She looks left and right on impulse, wonders if it was Isaac before she feels certain it wasn’t. If her steps quicken, she’ll never admit to it.

She snags the bag quickly and slams the door behind her, fingers itching to find out what’s inside. Her hand wraps around a binder and she pulls it out slowly, suddenly nervous. A note flutters out with it and falls to her feet, and her jaw clenches as she recognizes the familiar scrawl.

 

You deserve better than all of us.

She stares at the message a moment more because she collapses into a seat at the table, binder spread out before her. She opens the first page and her throat tickles with the emotion of it all.

It’s a collection of paperwork, brochures and articles and informational pamphlets. Schools she mentioned, universities she’s named in passing conversations when she thought they were just killing time before his next session. He compiled them all by the areas of study she might be most interested, and she smirks despite herself that each school is color coded. He’d always busted her for organizing the clinic schedule like that. He’s even taken the time to highlight new places she hasn’t considered, places that offer creative writing programs and financial scholarships for independents.

She feels the smile on her lips but it’s like her brain catches up, stunned for a moment by the gesture, and she’s suddenly furious.

 

Who does he think he is? He doesn’t know what she needs, what she wants, what’s best for her. All he’s done since he came into her life was cause her pain, and now he’s trying to be some fucking savior for her? She snags a sweater strewn over the couch and is out the door before she even knows where she’s going. All she knows is that he doesn’t get to make some grand gesture and have her forgive him. It’s bullshit. She’s going to storm over there and tell him exactly where he can shove his fucking charity. He’s -

-standing in the middle of the bridge. Waiting for her.

Her breath catches in her throat and she absently notes that he looks terrified. There are so many things she wants to spit at him but for some reason she can’t find words just yet. He shocks her by speaking first.

“I didn’t want you to have to come all the way to me again,” he shrugs, the corner of his lip curling up just slightly.

She crosses her arms quickly, petulant as a child as she scoffs at him. But despite herself, she feels lighter standing before him. Damn it all to hell. “How’d you know I’d even come to you?” She’s trying for offhanded but knows she doesn’t manage it.

He scratches his ear and looks to his shoes. “I didn’t?” He has the decency to sound sheepish. “I figured I’d give it an hour or so and see if you called maybe.”

“Oh, only an hour then?” She deadpans. She gets way too much satisfaction from his rosy cheeks.

He cocks his head just so, offering her a half smile. “Maybe two,” he relents.

She feels her mouth pulling into a grin but she bites the inside of her cheek before it erupts. Instead she nods once and wrings her hands together by her chest. The silence sits between them and it’s colder out here than it was an hour ago.

“I’m sorry,” she hears him breath, and he must realize how quiet he said it because he clears his throat and meets her eyes. “I’m really sorry.” Louder this time, more conviction.

She can see the sincerity in his eyes and he always did know how to get to her. She nods this time, her mouth twisting in a wry smirk. “Yeah you should be,” she jokes, but it doesn’t feel much like a joke once it’s out of her mouth, and she feels the frustration seep back in. “You know, you can’t go around trying to manipulate me by doing something nice. Doesn’t work like that. You’re not charming, you know.”

Otis blinks. “Is that what you were coming to tell me?”

“What?”

“You were headed to my house, weren’t you? Was that what you were going to say?”

Her eyes widen, indignant, and the anger mounts. “Yes,” she demands. “You can’t just hurt me and expect it to all be okay just like that. It’s not. I trusted you, Otis, and you let me down. Everyone else is shit but I never thought you’d...” her voice catches and a small sob fills her chest but she won’t let it out. Refuses. Instead she stops, catching her breath and turning her head to the side as angry tears threaten to pour over. She digs a nail into her palm to stop them. She won’t let him do this to her again.

He takes a tentative step forward and reaches out for her slightly, and she finds great satisfaction when he retracts his hand, until she follows his gaze and realizes he must notice that she’s wearing his sweater. Shit.

It seems to embolden him though and he looks to her again. “I know, and Maeve, I know I hurt you and I was a dickhead -“

“Massive dickhead,” she elaborates.

“But I don’t think it’s all my fault.” He finishes.

She’s certain she heard him wrong.

“Excuse me?” She gapes, incredulous.

“We’ve been tiptoeing around each other for months,” Otis argues, arms up for emphasis. “All year, really. And then Jackson -

“Are you seriously turning this around on me?” She can’t believe him.

“No but -

“‘Cause it sounds like you are -“

“I’m not!” He insists. “It’s just that...you’re you! And I’m ME and, and we were friends. Such good friends, Maeve, and then you... And it just made me so angry that you didn’t tell me you liked me until things with Ola.... it’s just... I had no idea someone like you could have possibly liked someone like me.”

 

Her nostrils flare with her anger and she’s trying not to strangle him right this instant. She’s not sure if it’s because he doubted her or that he’s so fucking sure he’s right (and so what if he is a little?) “Right well it’s probably for the best you didn’t know. I’m the most selfish person you know, after all.”

 

He sighs loudly. “Maeve, of course I didn’t mean that.“

“It sounded like you did,” she quips.

“I was so drunk. I ate a whole roast chicken that night! And I was confused and I was trying to hurt you like I was hurting when of course you didn’t deserve it.” 

He’s got her there.

She sniffles and crosses her arms, choosing to count the railings on the bridge rather than meet his eyes.

 

He sighs and reaches toward her, palms open. “I know I can’t take back what I did. And I know things are still broken between us. But... I like you, Maeve. I really, really like you.”

She looks up then, against her own will honestly, but he’s got his eyes closed. Either because he can’t look at her either or he’s mustering up the courage, she can’t be sure.

He rubs a hand over his face and chuckles ironically. “Hell I think I even love you. You’re brave and you’re resilient and you’re honest and you’re good. Life should have taken you out dozens of times already but you never let it. You’re too good for every fucking one of us and we just keep letting you down over and over. But I want to be there for you. I want to be the one you turn to. I don’t want you to feel alone or scared or hurt. And I hate that I’ve already done all those things but if you let me, if you give me a chance, I promise I won’t hurt you again. And I know, I know so many people have said that to you before, but I’m going to prove it. You don’t have to believe me, but let me prove it to you. Please. I -“

She’s not sure at what point in his speech her arms drop to her sides, when her brow smooths and her gaze softens and her lip drops just slightly. She feels the heat pool in her chest, warm and bubbling and even a little uncomfortable, blooming its way up her neck to her cheeks and face. And in her haze she really can’t remember when she steps forward and brings her mouth to his, soft but hard all at once, but she knows when she does that she’s never quite had a kiss like this in her life.

That is, because he doesn’t quite kiss her back.

Her lips are tingling but his body is like a statue before her, and she’s sure he’s unconscious but she can feel his heart thrumming beneath her hands atop his chest, and has she killed him? She pulls back slightly, exhaling a harsh breath, not daring to meet his eyes but seemingly incapable of putting more than an inch of distance between them. The barrier’s been broken now and she finds she’s never been warmer in her whole life. She’s about to say something, anything really, when his hands come up to cup her cheeks, coaxing her to look him in the eyes. Nerves grasp her now - it was so impulsive, she didn’t give it a second of thought before - but she has no time for them. She hears him swallow just as he pinches her chin and brings her mouth to his once more, and this is what their first kiss should have been. His lips are tender on hers and she wants to be closer to him all at once, so she wraps her arms around his waist and opens her mouth, feeling his breath on her tongue before his follows along. She was sure he’d be timid but it’s like his body is reacting all on its own, and she can’t help herself. Her lips curl into a smile against his mouth, and she nearly melts into a puddle when his thumb comes to the corner of her lip, the pad of his finger tracing the outline of her smile.

When they properly pull back for a breath, she can feel his eyes on her, blue crystals boring into her soul, and for the life of her she has no idea why she meets his gaze. She wants to look away but somehow she can’t, and he’s smiling at her and by God if she’s not absolutely fucking in love with this dickhead.

“You kissed me.” He tucks her hair behind her ear as he says it and she hates him even more. Her life will never be just hers again.

She licks her lips. “Tell anyone about this and I’ll bite your dick off. Okay mouth breather?” There isn’t the slightest trace of malice in her voice. It’s barely above a whisper.

Otis nods once, brow creased in mock seriousness. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m still angry at you,” she murmurs, eyes fixated on his bottom lip as she grips the ends of his shirt tighter.

He swallows hard and nods. “I know. I’m still angry with me too.”

She wants to keep the banter going but she’s got no fight in her, just butterflies wrecking havoc on her stomach and fire in her cheeks. She can’t stop staring at his lips - it’s like he’s cast a spell on her or something - and then she remembers she can do it again if she wants. This is going to be a real problem, she can tell. She’s on her tiptoes when he seems to remember the same thing, and he’s wearing the goofiest smile when he brings her face to his and leans down to kiss her again.

(It might take him a few hours to calm her down after he tells her about the missing voicemail - she could fucking murder Isaac - but he quickly finds exactly how to shut her up. If they don’t sleep that night, it’s entirely his fault.)

...

Note: this was shit but I wrote it in the notes on my phone because please let them be together next season PLEASE. It’s my first tumbler post too so sorry the format is weird as shit.

[whumpsideblog]

Did I just start a whole new series with all new characters? Yes. Am I about to do it again? Also yes, because apparently if I do not write a creepy whumper I will die.

tw for noncon creepy touching

***

 “It’s awfully rude you know, sneaking into someone’s home.” The vampire’s voice was low but playful, as if amused by what he’d caught. His chest pressed against Silas’ back, pinning him to the wall. One arm had been twisted behind his back, the other wrist held in the vampire’s iron grip. 

 “And feeding on innocent people isn’t rude?” Silas huffed, refusing to show an ounce of fear. 

 “Well, that depends.” The vampire quickly whipped him around, Silas wasn’t even sure what just happened. He pinned his wrists against the wall at either side of his head, a knee forced between his legs to keep him in place. The vampire’s mouth was uncomfortably close to his throat. “Viciously tearing apart a person, draining them completely, feeding like an animal? That’s rude.”

 “What you do is any different?” Silas glared at him. 

 “Much different, love.” He released one wrist, naturally not the hand that he could easily retrieve his weapon with. “I savor my meals, treasure them really.” His hand was low on his waist, the vampire was slowly feeling up his body, it was by far the worst thing a vampire had ever done to him. “I know how to make them last… make them feel needed… you wish to be needed, don’t you…?” His words cast a fog over Silas’ mind, he could hardly think straight. 

 “I don’t… I don’t need… you…” He had to struggle to force the words out, he barely realized he had voluntarily tilted his head to the side. 

 “It’s okay to say yes, darling… there you go, stay just like that for me.” The vampire spoke sweetly, Silas had no clue what was going on until a sudden sharp pain pierced his neck. The pain was incredible, but he couldn’t scream, he couldn’t fight, he had no choice but to stay still and allow the vampire to do as he pleased, until finally, his eyes closed and he just couldn’t seem to open them again.

***

 Silas woke up, exhausted and disoriented. He couldn’t quite remember where he was or what had happened. He tried to sit up, unexpectedly slamming his head against a hard surface and collapsing once again. He groaned, blinking tiredly as he took in his new surroundings. He laid on a cold metal surface, not even long enough for him to stretch his legs out. An identical slab of metal was only a few feet above him, bars trapping him on every side of him. He couldn’t sit up, he was forced to curl in on himself to fit inside. 

 The room outside the cage was lavishly decorated with deep reds and gold accents, a fire going in the fireplace. He could see out the large windows, it must’ve been the middle of the night. He wanted to find a way out, but he didn’t have the strength to keep his head up, much less try to break a lock. Even if he did, he didn’t have any tools or weapons on him, as expected they’d all been taken.

 Not long after he’d woken up the doors on the opposite end of the room opened, and in walked the vampire himself. Alastair Morgan was a tall man, pale as death with ruby red eyes and long, pale blonde hair. He would’ve truly been gorgeous, if not for the fact that he was a blood sucking monster. 

 “I’m glad to see you awake, pet.” The vampire came and crouched down in front of the cage. “I do apologize for the tight quarters, my last pet was a bit smaller than you. Don’t worry though, I’ve already requested accommodations be made for you.” Silas frowned, narrowing his eyes at him.

 “You can’t keep me here.” He said seriously.

 “Oh? Then please, stop me.” Alastair grinned. “Oh, that’s right, you, little human, are in a cage, unarmed, and greatly weakened. Your life is in my hands.” As he spoke he produced a key from his pocket, unlocking the large golden lock that held the cage door shut. As soon  as the door opened Silas attempted to scramble out, immediately going to attack him, but Alastair was quicker, grabbing Silas by the back of the neck and slamming him face first to the floor. Silas growled as he felt the vampire’s weight holding him down, a knee to the center of his back keeping him from moving. 

 “Get off of me!” He snarled, trying to struggle against him, but Alastair ignored him, instead untying the thin scarf Silas had worn, specifically to cover his neck around vampires. What a big help that was, he thought sarcastically. Alastair twisted his arms behind his back, tying his wrists with the scarf.

 “This will have to do for now I suppose.” He said more to himself, knotting it tightly. He got off him, grabbing his arm and pulling him into a sitting position as he stood up. “I like you, hunter, and I plan to make you last as long as possible. I’d advise you get comfortable here.” He reached down, gently patting his cheek. Silas however whipped his head to the side, catching the vampire’s hand in his teeth. Though he managed to break skin, he didn’t exactly do that much damage, and Alastair easily wrenched his hand from his grip, immediately backhanding him hard enough to knock him on his side. 

 Alastair kicked him on to his back, smiling at the dark red mark that was already visible on the hunter’s face. He glared up at him, blue eyes hard and serious, and Alastair couldn’t help but laugh softly.

 “I like your defiance. It’s new, fun really.” He smiled. “However, I just can’t wait to beat it out of you.”

[sunflower-swan]

Wolfstar Chapter 9

A/N: Here’s what you need to know: I created this story for Writer’s Month 2020. Every day is a new prompt, and therefore a new chapter. This is an AU Wolfstar where Remus is a tattoo artist next door to Sirius who manages a flower shop. James and Lily are alive in this universe and own a coffee shop across the street. And to make parts of the story work with the prompts, Remus is about 10 years older than Sirius. It also takes place more or less in present time, minus Covid-19.

This is chapter 9 of a multi-chapter work. If you’d like to start from the beginning, here is chapter 1.

Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. I just like to play with them.

Day 9 Prompt: Illness

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1514

Tags: language, angst, depression, suicidal thoughts, implied alcohol consumption

Chapter 9

Remus

The Rolling Stones, “Paint it Black”

I see a line of cars and they're all painted black

With flowers and my love, both never to come back

I see people turn their heads and quickly look away

Like a newborn baby, it just happens every day

In the days immediately following the rose tattoo, Sirius appeared to his friends to be getting along ok with the news of Silas’ death. Much better than anticipated, and this made them nervous. After the initial shock, he didn’t seem to have grieved at all. Instead he moved forward with life as though it hadn’t happened and nothing had changed. Remus was in the Potter’s Wheel, talking to James and Lily while he waited for Sirius to show up.

“He’s taking it too well,” James said.

“Why do you say that?” asked Remus.

“I remember when Regulus passed,” Lily whispered with wide eyes.

“Let’s just say, Sirius has a record of not handling death well. So I reckon it’s a matter of time before he breaks.”

The three shared a grim look, then the bell over the door dingled and in stumped Sirius who looked quite disheveled. His clothes looked like he had slept in them. His hair wasn’t pulled back like normal, it hung in shiny loose waves around his face.

“What did I tell you,” James said in an undertone.

“Hey, mate. What kept you?” Remus asked Sirius.

“Overslept.” Sirius shrugged and flopped down at their usual table.

Remus approached the table with caution and sat down. Sirius was resting his forehead on his arms which were resting on the table. Remus poked the top of his head.

“What?” Sirius snapped.

Remus was taken aback by his tone. “Hungry?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? When was the last time you ate anything?”

Sirius picked his head up. “What are you? My mother?”

Today was the first time in a few days Remus had seen his friend up close. He did not look well. His skin had taken a sickly grey tinge, and he had massive dark bags under his eyes.

“Sirius,” Remus murmured, “have you been sleeping lately?”

He could see Sirius muscles tense. “What’s with the interrogation?”

Remus held his hands up in surrender. “Sorry. Just looking out for my best friend. You did just have someone close to you pass away. Whatever you’re feeling is normal and ok. I just want to help you, if that’s what you need.”

The stoney expression melted into one of sadness and regret. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just...I don’t even know.” Sirius looked away and ran a hand through his unkempt hair. “I need to get to the shop.” He stood up and let himself out without a backward glance.

There was nothing Remus could do except watch him walk out the door. He sat there, stunned by what had just transpired until Lily laid a soft hand on his shoulder.

“Keep an eye on him, Remus,” she said.

~~~~~

Over the next couple days, neither Sirius' mood, nor his appearance improved. If anything, they deteriorated. His eyes took on a red, blood-shot look. His clothes appeared looser, as though he wasn’t eating anything at all. He carried an intense apathy around with him everywhere he went.

“I’m worried about Sirius,” Lily said one morning at the coffee shop.

“Me, too,” Remus agreed. “But what are we supposed to do if he bites our heads off anytime we try to help him?”

“I’ve known Sirius a long time, but I’ve never seen him like this,” James added.

The three stood in contemplative silence. 

Remus looked at the time, and his stomach dropped. “He’s really late today. Maybe he went straight to the flower shop?” He looked at James and Lily, both had furrowed brows. “I’ll go check.”

He strode across the street, hoping to find Sirius there. A couple employees looked up at him when he entered the door.

“He’s not here,” one of them said. “If you’re looking for Sirius that is. Haven’t seen or heard anything from him since he stormed out yesterday afternoon.”

A million scenarios rushed through Remus’ mind all at once, each more outlandish than the last, of what could have befallen Sirius. Trampled by a stampeding hippogriff. Bit by a basilisk. Burned alive by a dragon. Pecked to death by a phoenix. He turned on his heels and ran back to the coffee shop.

“No one has seen or heard from him since yesterday afternoon,” Remus said between breaths. “I’m going to go check his flat. Lily, will you sit over at the Tattoo Lounge while I’m gone? If anyone shows up, write down their information and tell them I’ll contact them later.”

Lily nodded, wide eyed. “Ok.”

With that confirmation, Remus rushed to the alley apparition spot.

~~~~~

Remus hastened toward Sirius flat. As he drew closer, he heard guitar playing and singing coming from an open window. At least I know he’s alive. He rang the doorbell and the playing stopped for a moment, only to resume again. He rang the doorbell again, but the playing didn’t even stop this time. Bastard. So Remus began to pound on the door with his fists.

“Sirius Black! Open up this door, damn it!”

He heard the lock click, and the door swung open an inch. Remus let himself in and slammed the door behind him. Damn, git, he thought as he climbed the stairs two at a time. When he reached the sitting room, the sight and smell was enough to knock him over. The odor emitted from the room was an overwhelming combination of stale sweat and alcohol.

Sirius was perched on the couch with his guitar. He appeared to have not showered or shaved in a week. A plethora of empty firewhisky bottles lay scattered about the floor. The entire room was in disarray, with items smashed and broken.

He leaned his head against the body of the guitar as he sang, “I see a red door and I want it painted black...No colors anymore, I want them to turn black...I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes...I have to turn my head until my darkness goes…” Then he began to hum.

Remus covered his nose and mouth with his palm to mitigate the smell from making him want to vomit, and took a tentative step into the room. Attempting to not inhale too deep, he made his way to a chair and sat down. He watched Sirius.

The man before him was not taking care of himself. The man before him was a shell of the Sirius he knew. His shell had cracked when he first read that letter, but now the cracks were chasms. Remus knew how it felt to feel so broken, and feel as though the pieces would never come together again. Knowing this, he also knew he had to help Sirius, whether Sirius thought he needed help or not.

Suddenly, Sirius jumped off the couch. Remus' heart pounded at his sudden movement. Sirius began strumming with abandon, and singing at the top of his lungs. More like yelling, Remus thought.

“I wanna see it painted, painted black...Black as night, black as coal...I wanna see the sun, blotted out from the sky...I wanna see it painted, painted, painted, painted black…”

And then, Sirius broke. Remus watched his friend drop the guitar and sink to his knees as sobs wracked his body. He leaned forward perhaps to comfort Sirius, but he didn’t know what to say or do. Hesitantly, he moved to the floor and scooted toward Sirius. When Sirius didn’t flinch or move away, he moved the guitar out of the way, and held him in his arms until Sirius breathing returned to normal.

Sirius' voice cracked. “Sometimes I wish I could just fall asleep and never wake up.”

“It’s going to be ok,” was all Remus could say. But he said it over, and over. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince himself or Sirius.

Eventually, Remus convinced Sirius to sit up and talk to him.

“Whatever you’re feeling is normal and natural,” Remus said to him. “Your friends are worried about you, and you’re not letting us help you by shutting us out.”

Sirius nodded and looked at Remus through red-rimmed eyes. “I know,” he whispered. “It hurts so bad though. How do I get through this?”

Remus took a deep steadying breath. “One day at a time,” he replied. “Let’s start with a shower.”

While Sirius was in the shower, Remus took it upon himself to clean up the flat a little bit. A few Scourgify spells later, and it was looking and smelling a lot better. As was Sirius who emerged from the bathroom later, wrapped in a towel. 

He padded into his bedroom, and emerged again in clean clothes. He held his hands out to his sides and offered a sad smile to Remus. “How do I look?”

“Much better. I have to get back to the tattoo shop, I left Lily watching it while I was gone. If you don’t feel up to going to work today, then you are welcome to hang out with me.”

“Anything is probably better than wallowing around by myself, right?” Sirius raised an eyebrow.

A/N: I have complicated feelings about this chapter. It was simultaneously easy, and hard, and cathartic to write and edit. It was easy in that the words just flew onto the page, like, they were already inside me begging to come out. And I’m not going to think too deeply on why that may be, that’s a job for a licensed professional. It was hard because putting myself in that headspace was...painful, to be honest. And it was cathartic because when I finished, I sat back and let out a breath...and I might have cried a little...but it was like, I felt lighter. A friend told me once that writers write what they know...I guess I know the darkness more than I’d like to admit.

Next Chapter: Chapter 10