#(not that spot can seem to get help considering his condition which explains his severe mental deterioration)

[simplyender]

look i love spot just as much as anybody else but if i see somebody actually unironically siding with him and saying hes in the right, im gonna think theyre fucking insane

[hellhound5925]

Cyare Verd *Beloved Warrior* Bad Batch Edition

Previous Chapter

Metamorphosis

On our way back to Ord Mantell, Cid finally contacts us. The room is tense and a part of me is starting to wonder if we are getting close to the end of the road with Cid. "Not sure what's got you all twisted up in knots" she says to us. She's pulled up on a holoprojection and honestly by the way she's acting, it's like she was the one stranded without help. I lose my patience "Where do I begin? We were stranded on that planet Cid!" Omega expresses her frustration as well "We needed you, and you left us." "You're fine now, aren't you? And you got your ship back" Cid tries to make it seem like we are overreacting. "Tell that to the gash in my side....not that you actually care..." I mumble - still making sure it's loud enough for her to hear. "Do you wanna mope or make money?" She moves on confirming my statement.  "Because I've got a tip on a downed ship. Which means cargo ripe for the taking. I'll even give you 30% of the cut." "That's our standard percentage" Tech points out. Cid sighs "All right. This one time, let's say 35%." None of us say a word - we are all angry "Okay, 40." She's reading the room now...."Fine, 50% as a token of my goodwill, that you seem to have forgotten." My grip on the arms of my chair tighten. She continues "I'm sending you the intel now. Don't come back unless you scavenge something valuable." "What makes you think we'd come back at all?" Hunter sasses which catches me by surprise. Must be he finally is getting tired of her too. Cid gets annoyed and wags her finger "Don't test me, Bandana. Just get it done." With that she ends the link.

I stand up and start to pace, Hunter takes my spot and looks over Tech's datapad. "Severing ties with Cid could be problematic, considering what she knows about us. Perhaps we choose a diplomatic solution—"I interrupt Tech. "I'd be happy to show her how Mandalorian's solve things...diplomatically...." My words dripping with sarcasm. Tech gives me a look, "As I was saying....we complete this one last mission for her." Hunter looks up from the datapad "Cid only sent coordinates. No ship transponder code or indication of what caused it to crash." Wrecker huffs in annoyance "Limited intel. Huh, There's a surprise." "How hard could scavaging cargo be?" Omega asks. Hunter sighs and I shake my head "You had to ask..."

————

After showering and changing the bandage on my side to a bacta patch - which was exactly what I needed - I join Omega in one of the blaster domes. “There's a village here" She says looking out the large bubble like window. "That would explain how the wreckage was reported so quickly. The crashed vessel appears mostly intact. The cargo aboard should be in fair enough condition to transport" Tech tells us looking at the image on one of the screens.

Hunter lands us as close as he can - the fog is pretty thick on the surface. We head out and I flip through some settings on my HUD so I can see, the others are carrying flashlights. I catch up with Hunter, "How's your side?" He asks, tilting his buy'ce (Helmet) my direction. "Much better after being stitched up. Which I never thanked you for by the way - thank you. But I'll be honest though...I don't remember much after that from the other night." He shakes his head and laughs "You don't have to thank me. You were pretty out of it...I took you in to get some rest and you wouldn't let me leave." I tip my helmeted head toward the sky "Maker I hope I didn't say anything too weird..." He laughs again "Nothing I couldn't handle." "Great...I'm not sure that makes me feel any better." He seems to be enjoying this... "Are you going to tell me whatever it is that I said, you find so amusing?" "No." "Hunter......we both know I could kick your sheb (ass) if I wanted to." "But you won't" he says so coyly. "Wanna bet?" He stops and faces me "Go a head." I'm stuck in my place by the way he said that...it sends chills down my spine and I can feel goosebumps rising all over my arms. "That's what I thought" he says in a low husky tone before continuing walking. I stand there for a moment and the others pass not saying a word, likely knowing exactly what was going on. He knows exactly what he's doing to me....it's not fair....

We approach the ship, walking around the outside "What kind of ship is this?" Wrecker asks. Shining his light around the hull, Hunter sighs "Don't know. No hull markings." "Isn't that a little odd?" I add. Tech - doing his thing - chimes in "Based on the severity of the impact and the lack of communication signals, the crew aboard most likely perished." "We don't know for sure. They could be trapped inside. Come on" Omega says, heading for the door. Hunter and I stand on their side - blasters drawn. I nod to him and he hits the panel opening the door. We sweep the entrance before the others follow us inside.

Heading down once of the hallways, there's random items all over the place. "Where is everyone?" Omega asks, sounding uneasy. I hear Wrecker kick something behind me, he bends over and picks up of staff "Oh, Check it out. High-volt electrostaff!" Tech shines his flashlight on the walls revealing claw marks, "Something very unfortunate happened here." I run my fingers over the marks "Vor'e (thank you) Sherlock Holmes." Wrecker laughs and Tech looks as me confused. "You've never seen—?" The look in his eyes tells me he's running millions of calculations in his head but coming up empty handed. "Watch some holovids sometime please." Hunter brings us back on task "Whatever did this wasn't human." "I will get the power restored and check data logs on the bridge" Tech starts typing into this datapad. "By yourself?" I cock my head at Omega who almost looks scared. "Your concern is not warranted. I will be fine" he reassures her. I put a hand on her shoulder "Hey, everything will be okay, alright? We've got each others backs." She tucks herself behind me, with Wrecker behind her. We continue down the hall while Tech goes the other direction.

Wrecker opens a door for us at the end of the hall. Looking around, there are bacta tanks and other various medical equipment scatter around the room.  "Why is it so cold in here?"  Wrecker complains. "It...looks like... some kind of lab..." I get chills down my spine - and this time not the good ones."This medical equipment is Kaminoan" Omega tells us looking over one of the stations. "Huh. So what's it doing here?" Wrecker asks. She continues "It's their cloning technology, but this configuration is different than anything I saw in Tipoca City." "Hunter, I have a bad feeling about this..." I say turning to him. He opens comms, "Tech, find anything on the bridge?" "Still rerouting the reserve power. Stand by. The grid should be restored momentarily." While we wait, we continue to poke around.

Wrecker makes a disgusted noise which draws my attention. I head over to him and see his hand covered in some sticky slime. Checking out the wall he had touched I noticed something odd, "These are reinforced walls." Wrecker looks it over, "What were they keeping in here?" Hunter freezes which can't be a good sign "I don't know, but it's still on board." There's a growling sound that comes from somewhere in the room. Next thing I know, there's noise in the shadows in front of us. I push Omega behind me. A creature leans down into the light from Hunter's flashlight. It's chewing on what looks like a troopers arm. "Hunter, What is that?" Omega whispers. "Back away slowly" he orders while whispering. We all do as we were told but the creature is on to our movement. It drops down and starts to stalk towards us. Wrecker uses the staff he found to try to scare it - all it does it make it mad. The four of us open fire on it but it gets away.

Just then the power comes on and the creature runs past Wrecker, almost knocking him over. Hunter pulls out his comm "Tech, we've got a problem. Get off the ship, now!" The four of us run through the halls. "I suspect this is some type of research vessel" Tech informs us. "We know!" Wrecker yells. "And whatever they were researching just got loose!" Omega tells him. "And it's headed your way" Hunter informs him. He comes to a stop at the end of the hall - where the power banks are - with us behind him. The creature is in there and it looks like its absorbing the power. Wrecker voices his concern "Does that thing look different to you?" Tech must be on the other side, "Fascinating" he says almost under his breath. "It would be more fascinating if it wasn't trying to kill us!" I hiss in annoyance. Omega draws her bow and shoots at it. "Take cover" Tech orders us and we duck around the corner. There's an explosion. "Tech? Tech! Are you alright?" I comm him. "Yes, I am quite alright."

We exit the now gaping hole in the side of the ship. I start to scan the woods for the creature, Tech does the same "The creature appears to be headed in the direction of the village." Hunter turns to the group "We're the ones who let it out. We have to neutralize it before it hurts anyone." I nod in agreement, "But how? Our blasters are useless." "Given the fact the crew was most likely eaten by the creature, I doubt it is currently hungry—" Tech starts think out loud. "It ate the crew?" Omega backs into me scared. "Well that's reassuring" I sass, placing one of my arms over her. "How is that helping Tech?" Wrecker scolds him. "It ate the crew" Omega repeats wrapping both of her arms around mine. Hunter starts barking orders "Access the lab files, and find out what species we're dealing with and how to stop it." Omega hesitates "Mmm, I can help. I know my way around Kaminoan tech." He nods "Go. Wrecker, Raven, With me." The three of us race to the Marauder.

Hunter flies us low over the forest while Wrecker mans one of the guns and I run the scanner. "See anything?" Wrecker hollers. I see movement on the scanner "Zero, two, five." The gun makes noise like its locking on before Wrecker fires. We don't hear from him for a few minutes, Hunter and I exchange a look, "Did you get it?" he comms him. Wrecker sighs "Uhhh, No." "Haar'chak! (Damn it!) Wrecker let me back there...I'll get it." "I don't know what makes you think you can get it if I can't!" "I'm Mandalorian, Weapons are a part of my religion" I sass. "I still don't know how that helps!" We switch positions anyways and Hunter slowly patrols the woods.

After sometime Techs voice comes through our comms, "Hunter, the creature is the same species that attacked Coruscant during the war. You must not let it get near the power grid, or it will increase exponentially in size." As we approach the power grid the creature is now much larger than I recall. "Uhh Tech....too late." The creature swings it's tail at the Marauder, Hunter is just able to avoid it. I try shooting it but it's unaffected. "Stop it before it gets any larger" Hunter barks. "I'm trying!" I yell. "Told you it was harder than it looks!" Wrecker sasses. "Alright wise guy you do it!" We swap places again. I hear the scanner going crazy, racing over to check it I see ships in coming. "Uh guys....We've got ships on our tail!" Wreckers sighs "Where'd they come from?" "I see them. Hold on" Hunter tells us before violently maneuvering the Marauder. He comms the others "Tech, Omega, you've got Imperials inbound. Get out of there!" "On our way" Omega replies.

Wrecker takes out some of the Imperial ships, I watch the others take out the creature "They're not killing it..." "They're taking it" Wrecker finishes my thought. "Let's not be next." Tech comes through the comms again "Hunter, we are clear of the vessel and heading to the landing zone." "Copy that." Hunter drops us in low enough to grab them without landing. I open the ramp "Come on!" Tech and Omega jump on and I race back to the copilot seat. We all relax once we get into hyperspace.

Tech tells us about what he and Omega found "The crashed vessel was part of an Imperial cloning operation." "The Empire cloned the Zillo Beast?" Hunter asks. Now I'm lost, "Ni ceta (I'm sorry)....did you just say Zillo Beast? I thought they were extinct?" He turns to me "Turns out they're not." Tech continues "Yes and No. The directive came straight from the Supreme Chancellor before he became Emperor." "What's he want with it?" Wrecker asks. "The creature's genetic material has the potential to be weaponized in the hands of the right scientist." "Where were they taking the creature?" I think out loud. Tech shrugs "Unknown. The ship did not have a destination logged." He turns to Hunter, "Hunter, there is far more to this than we realized. From what I have gathered, I suspect the Empire did not destroy the cities on Kamino to end cloning. They merely wanted to control it." "Send the data to Echo and Rex. See what they can find out" he says before heading back to the pilots seat, I follow. "Hunter....this is getting bad....they'll be wondering who we are and looking for us...." He sighs, "I know..."

Next Chapter

[castexpectopatronum]

Liquid Amber - Part III [Remus Lupin x Reader Imagine]

Summary: You had been crushing on Remus Lupin for an eternity when you finally decided to ask him out. However, things do not go as planned and you remain wondering just what exactly is going on with this boy.

notes: reupload because the original got deleated

trigger warnings: none

word count: 1.9k

Masterlist

What was Remus Lupin hiding?

The question was burning inside of you ever since your encounter in the corridor a few days ago. And even though you knew that it was none of your business, you still were determined to find out.

Concerning this matter, it was fortunate you fancied Remus as that made you far more observant of him. Whenever you could, you shot glances at him, during meals and classes, and paid special attention to his behaviour. You did notice that he seemed rather sick, he looked pale and peaky and he seemed to be growing weaker by each day.

Then, he disappeared. When you stepped into the Transfiguration classroom one day, already late, only to find his seat empty, a deep frown appeared on your face. His friends, James, Sirius and Peter, were there, but unusually quiet and had black shadows under their eyes. Peter even fell asleep during the lesson; his soft snores filled the classroom until Sirius nudged him with his ellbow causing Peter to almost fall from his chair. You observed them carefully while pretending to listen to Professor McGonagall’s lecture. Perhaps the Marauders had pulled off an all-nighter of some sort but that still didn’t explain Remus’ absence. Maybe he had a hangover – although you failed to imagine Remus as some kind of party animal.

Remembering how sickly he had looked the day before, you decided to check the Hospital Wing for him and bring Remus some chocolate bars from Honeyduke’s which you knew he loved.

However, when you entered the Hospital Wing, you found that it was already occupied. James, Sirius and Peter were huddled around a bed at the far corner of the room, hiding the person lying in it from your view. The expression upon their faces turned into one of surprise once they spotted you, mirroring your own.

“Sorry,” you said, taken aback by their presence – although now that you thought about it, you should have expected it. “I didn’t know you were here. I was just looking for Remus.”

The three of them exchanged looks, as if they knew something you didn’t, and stood up.

“No problem, we just wanted to leave, anyway,” Sirius said. Next moment, he groaned all of a sudden, leaving you to raise your eyebrows in surprise. James bent down to whisper something in Remus’ ear who looked rather alarmed. He replied something in a hushed voice but James simply gave him a crooked grin, patted him gently on the shoulder and barely gave Sirius and Peter the chance to say their goodbyes before he pushed them towards the door. Playing with your sleeves, you observed them with furrowed eyebrows.

“Y’know, if it’s not a good time, I can come back tomorrow or-”

“Nonsense, the time is perfect,” James interrupted.

“Just make sure to be gentle with him,” said Peter in a concerned voice. “He’s been through a lot.”

Your frown deepened. “What do you mean?”

“Just a nasty flu, tha’s all,” said Sirius quickly, shooting Peter a warning glance. “Nothing to worry about. Give it a few days and he’ll be as good as new.” He turned to his friends. “C’mon, we best be going.” They shot you one last glance and Peter flashed a smile, then the door closed behind them, the sound echoing in the room, leaving you and Remus alone in the Hospital Wing.

You turned around to him and chuckled nervously. “Well, that did not quite go as I expected.”

Remus didn’t laugh. He didn’t smile. He didn’t give any indication whatsoever that he was happy to see you. He simply stared at you, his eyes shining like liquid amber.

“What are you doing here?”

“I missed you in class today. Here.” You placed the chocolate bars on the nightstand next to his bed. “A little something to cheer you up. Thought you could use it.”

Remus nodded weakly. “Thank you,” he muttered and watched you sit down on a chair.

You smiled sheepishly. “So, the flu, eh?”

Remus shrugged and pulled the blanket up to his chin. “Happens to the best of us.”

You took in his appearence with furrowed eyebrows. Remus was whiter than the bedsheets, his face was hallow, and his eyes, usually so attentive and full of warmth, were now dull. Dark bags circling them, and he looked very thin and weak. You doubted he even had the strength to get up.

“How are you feeling?”

Remus turned his head away from you and looked up at the ceiling. “I’m fine.”

You cocked your head. “And Dumbledore isn’t two-hundred years old.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “I don’t think he’s quite that old.”

“How would you know? Do you know when he was born?”

“No wizard gets that old.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Dumbledore did. The man is ancient.”

This finally evoqued a smile from him which you couldn’t help but return. But he remained silent.

“You don’t really have the flu, do you?”

Remus’ head spun around, and although he hid it quickly and put on a neutral expression, you did not miss the flash of panic in his eyes.

“Of course I have the flu. What else should I have?”

“Remus, you’re as white as a ghost. The flu is terrible but it doesn’t make you look as if you’re on the brink of death.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you knew you had hit a nerve. Remus’ jaw clenched and his eyes suddenly turned colder. He turned his head to stare at the ceiling, avoiding the worried yet piercing look in your eyes.

“It’s a nasty one.”

You snorted. “Sure. Don’t try and fool me, Remus. I know a flu when I see it and whatever it is that you have, it’s not that.”

He didn’t respond.

You sighed, regretting the harsh tone in your voice. “Listen, Remus... You don’t have to tell me what you have or why you get sick so often. But... I just want you to know that I’m there for you if you ever do want to talk about it. And whatever it is – I can’t imagine it could change my opinion on you.” You gave your best to give him an encouraging smile and stood up. “You should eat some chocolate. You’ll feel better afterwards.”

You knew he wouldn’t answer but still lingered for several moments to a least give him the opportunity to. When your conviction proved to be right, however, you gave him one last half-hearted smile and left the Hospital Wing.

A part of you had hoped that after this incident Remus and you would grow closer but instead Remus was more determined than ever to avoid you. Every time you passed him in the hallway, you felt a painful sting in your heart. However, the original issue of Remus refusing to go out with you became less and less important to you although your crush on him grew stronger by each day.

Your academic success was quite average but you weren’t stupid – to you there was no doubt that Remus’s illness was the cause of all this trouble, also considering he often looked pale and sickly. Every time you saw him looking particularly weak, your wish to help him grew even more urgent than before but you could only help him with his condition if you knew what it was – and trying to get Remus to open up about his sickness was about as effective as convincing James of writing a love letter to Snape.

It was two months of this slow torture and several stupid theories later that you realised Remus’s sickness was not only a frequent but also regular occurence. As far as you remembered, he seemed to be getting sick every once a month.

A deep frown appeared on your face and you turned around in your seat to look at Remus who was taking notes on Professor Flitwick’s words. His face was pale again with dark bags circling his eyes. A strange cut peaked out from under his shirt collor.

As if he had felt your intent gaze, Remus suddenly lifted his head. For one moment, is amber eyes burned into yours, then his intense expression turned into one of guilt and he quickly looked back down at his notes.

That day you merely picked at your food, your thoughts far away. Your friend watched in concern as you ripped a breadroll into tiny little pieces without eating any of it, staring absent-mindedly onto the wooden table.

“(Y/N), are you alright?”

Startled, you looked up, halting in your motion. “Yeah, I uh...” You hesitated, looking at the breah crumbs in your hand. “Actually, I still got something to do, uh...” Pushing your plate away, you stood up from the dining table, your friend watching you in confusion. “I’ll catch you up later,” you promised and left the Great Hall before your friend had even opened their mouth to protest.

The library was dead quiet as every student was at dinner which was very much to your liking. That way you could follow your suspicions without having to worry about anybody asking unwanted questions.

Pensively, you let your fingers brush over the back of the old books until you finally pulled one out, feeling the weight of it in your hands. You viewed the cover thoughtfully for a moment before you tucked it under your arm and continued to collect more books.

Half an hour later, you carried a great stash of books out of the library, carefully transporting them the long way to your common room as they didn’t all fit into your bag.

“What the hell is that?” your friend asked incredulously as you entered your dorm room and let the books fall onto your bed where they scattered all over your blanket.

“Books,” you answered.

Your friend raised their eyebrows. „Really,“ they said blankly. „Good thing you explained that, I had no idea.“ You threw them an half-annoyed, half-amused glance as they strolled over to your bedside and viewed the book titles.

“Magical Diseases and Epidemics,” they read aloud, “Dragon Pox or Measles? An Encyclopedia on Magical Maladies.” They raised their head to look at you, their eyebrows raised so high they almost disappeared in their hairline. “Are you sick?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head, and started stacking the books on the nightstand, pushing your friend aside as you did. “It’s ... a new hobby.”

“A hobby?”

“Yes. That’s what you call an enjoyable freetime activity.”

“I didn’t know purulent dragon pox were an enjoyable free time activity.”

You threw her an annoyed glance as you put another book on the growing stack. “It’s an interesting topic as I have realised.”

“And you had to skip dinner to get those books?”

“Yes,” you said, avoiding your friend’s eyes.

You knew they didn’t believe a single thing you said but thankfully, they didn’t further inquire. Instead, they rolled their eyes and let themselves fall onto their own bed. “I always knew you were weird,” they said. “Just make sure you don’t actually get sick. I don’t fancy getting dragon pox.”

“No one is going to get dragon pox,” you replied, but a small smile was tugging at your lips. The two of you walked down to your common room to do your homework which, although you had quite some trouble concentrating on, you hurried to finish, so you could get back to your books.

Remus Lupin had a problem and you were determined to find out what it was.

[genshin-impact-writings]

Hi!! May I have a tall cold brew with peppermint syrup and strawberry drizzle for Diluc please?

Hey there! Thank you so much for your request and your patience. I wasn't really sure where I wanted to go with this one and I also had to deal with writer's block while working on this, so I really hope it still came out somewhat okay. Anyways, here's your drink: a tall cold brew with peppermint syrup and some strawberry drizzle on top! <3

Prompts: angst, character A taking care of character B when they’re sick, “You’re so warm.” + “You’re shivering. Here, take my jacket.” (400 followers event: JJ's coffee shop)

Fever – Diluc x gn!reader

Dragonspine was beautiful at this time of the day. The snow glistened in the golden light of the rising sun and the sky was painted in the most gorgeous shades of orange, red and light blue as the stars and the moon slowly faded until, in a couple of hours, the approaching night would bring them out again.

You craned our neck, using your hand to shield your eyes from the sunlight. In the distance, you could see the silhouette of Mondstadt’s cathedral, its stony façade almost glowing in the sunrise. It was a breathtaking sight, and for a few moments, you just stood there and gazed at the town you had grown to love so much that you couldn’t imagine living somewhere else.

The only thing you’d probably never get used to was that damn cold on Dragonspine. Your breath was pluming in the frosty air, and your fingertips already started to feel numb, although you had picked the warmest gloves you owned when you got dressed for your mission.

It wasn’t unusual that the Knights sent someone to Dragonspine to collect their Chief Alchemist’s newest research date, so you came here quite often and knew what expected you but today was the first time that none of the other knights accompanied you. They were all busy with other commissions and while Jean had asked you to postpone your trip, you had insisted to go today. The data was important; the local alchemists needed them as soon as possible, and you really weren’t known for being unreliable. The only problem you had encountered was that no one was allowed to go to Dragonspine alone. The mountain was too dangerous and unpredictable to explore it on one’s own, so Jean had told you that she’d only allow you to go if you found someone to come with you.

With a barely noticeable smile you glanced at the man by your side, his flaming red hair even brighter against the pale, snowy background. It was rare that Diluc agreed to officially help the Knights with their matters but you knew that he could hardly deny you anything – which was probably the only reason why he was here with you now. Maybe he also didn’t want you to go to Dragonspine completely alone but in the end, you didn’t care much about his reasons. All that mattered was that you could collect Albedo’s data without further delays.

“Ready?”

Diluc gazed back at you. “Yes. Let’s get this done.”

In silence, the two of you made your way uphill. You pulled your scarf up higher to keep the lower half of your face warm but against the harsh, cold wind that steadily grew stronger, the fabric didn’t help much. A few minutes on this damn mountain and you were already starting to shiver. No wonder that most people avoided Dragonspine like the plague.

You hunched your shoulders as another gust of freezing cold wind hit you. With a deep sigh, you said, “I don’t understand why Albedo couldn’t have picked a warmer place for his research. I mean, yeah, the landscape is really pretty and I bet there are a lot of things to discover up here but it’s so freaking cold. I really don’t know how he hasn’t frozen to death yet.”

“Don’t ask me,” Diluc replied, watching you from the corner of his eye. It was obvious that you were cold, not just from the way you tried to adjust your scarf to cover more of your face. Your whole posture told him that the cold gave you a hard time today – a lot more than it did usually.

With a frown, he stopped in his tracks. “Wait a second,” he said and took off his coat in one swift movement, handing it to you without any hesitation. “You’re shivering,” he explained when you gave him a questioning look. “Here, take my jacket. I don’t want you to get sick.”

You stared at his coat. “Are you sure?”

Diluc shrugged. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” A faint smile flashed over his face as you raised your eyebrows and gave him another skeptical look. “Just take it, okay?”

“Thank you,” you mumbled while you slipped on his coat over your own jacket, indulging in his comforting scent that surrounded you immediately and the warmth of the soft fabric. You reached out for his hand, both to thank him once again and to drag him along. “We should hurry to get to Albedo’s base camp. It’s too cold to wander around without a coat – even for you.”

*

Exactly four days later, you knew that it had been a mistake to accept Diluc’s offer. His forehead was covered in cold sweat and he was shivering, despite the pile of blankets you had put over his body to keep him warm. Incoherent mumbles escaped his slightly parted, chapped lips as he tossed and turned in his sleep, suffering from yet another fever dream. It pained you to see him like this, very well aware that it was your fault that he was sick. If you hadn’t taken his jacket, he wouldn’t be in this condition right now.

Barbara had checked on him a couple of hours ago, warning you that it might get worse before he was going to feel better. “His fever is pretty high,” she had said, her hand resting on his forehead. “I can send you some herbs that will help to lower his temperature but other than that, all we can do is wait. But please don’t worry, (Y/N), he will be fine.”

You knew that she was right. After all, Barbara knew exactly what she was talking about when it came to injuries and illnesses, and the medical tea you had prepared following her instructions would surely help him, but still, you couldn’t stop worrying about him. His skin was even paler than usual and even the color of his hair seemed to be duller than normally. He looked absolutely terrible and he probably felt even worse.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumbled and leaned forward to brush a strand of hair out of his face. Beneath your fingertips, his skin felt burning hot and freezing cold at the same time, and you reached out for the damp cloth on the nightstand to gently dab away the sweat on his forehead. “This is all my fault.”

He mumbled something in his sleep again, a painful reminder that he’d contradict you if he were awake, insisting that the only reason for his condition was his own stupidity. And of course, you’d disagree until the conversation resulted in playful bickering.

But he wasn’t awake. And all you could think of was how much it sucked that you could do nothing to make him feel better.

*

A couple of hours later, Diluc finally woke up from his confusing dreams. He still felt like absolute trash, you could see it in his eyes, but somehow, he managed to crack a smile when he spotted you curled up in an armchair right next to the bed.

“Hey,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse and raspy, but it still made a wave of relief wash over you to hear him talk. “Hey yourself,” you replied and closed the book you had been reading half-heartedly over the past few hours before leaning in to put your hand on his forehead. His temperature was still too high but at least, he was awake now. “You’re so warm… How are you feeling?”

With a quiet groan, Diluc closed his eyes again. “Horrible.”

“Do you want some tea? Or a glass of water?”

“No… I think I just want to go back to sleep.”

“Oh. Okay.” Somehow, a part of you had hoped that he would magically feel better as soon as he woke up but of course that had been nothing more than wishful thinking. A cold as severe as his couldn’t be cured by a few hours of restless sleep, so it was completely normal that his body screamed for more resting time. “Do you want me to leave?”

He shook his head.

“Okay,” you repeated. “I’ll stay.”

“Come here,” he mumbled, shifting a bit to make some room for you in the bed. “Please. I don’t want to be alone. Unless,” a coughing fit interrupted him before he could finish his sentence, and he took a deep breath before continuing, “unless you’re afraid to pick up a cold.”

With an indignant huff, you climbed into the bed, draping your arm over the blankets in an attempt to hug him before craning your neck to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Get some rest,” you told him softly. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please consider reblogging. I'd really appreciate the support. <3

Taglist: @blissmal, @aimicoos, @childe-support, @rim0na,@the-gayest-sky-kid

[mammonshuman92]

- Watched - Pt.2

(Mammon x GN!MC)

**TW: Stalking, cussing, kidnapping

Lucifer briefly looked up from his desk, the giant stack of paper work towering high next to him.

“Ah, Mammon. To what do I owe the pleasure of your abrupt company?”

Mammon walked straight to the front of Lucifer’s desk, wasting no time, he got right to the point.

“I need to go to the human world.”

“Absolutely not.” Lucifer replied, without looking up from his work.

“Why not?”

“You know as well as I do that you cannot be trusted to go there by yourself.”

“Then come with me.” Mammon offered.

Lucifer glanced at his brother.

“I cannot. As you can see,” he gestured to the large stack of papers, “I am very busy. Besides, what business do you have in the human world?” He inquired.

Mammon put his hands in his pockets, and looked away from Lucifer nervously. He knew he wasn’t going to like his answer.

“I need to check on MC.” He confessed sheepishly.

Lucifer sighed, and put his pen down. Leaning back in his chair, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Mammon, you know the rules. MC is a human. Human lives are much shorter than ours. Taking up too much of MC’s time can be damaging.” He explained.

“I know, Lucifer. But, just listen- ” 

“No, Mammon. You listen.” Lucifer began. His hands were flat on his desk as he stood from his chair, giving his brother a stern look.

“I would like to see MC as well. We all would. However, unless Lord Diavolo says otherwise, we are not to interfere with MC’s life, aside from calling and texting. It may not seem fair, but it is what’s best for MC.”

A lump was building in Mammon’s throat. Why wouldn’t he just listen to him? MC could be in danger. He didn’t really have proof though, just a hunch...but still. He didn’t care about some dumb rule. He just needed to see for himself that you were okay, then he’d come home.

But, if you really were in danger..

He didn’t want to even consider something happening to you. Just the thought of it alone could all but crush him.

Mammon huffed and shook his head. “Ya know, there isn’t anythin’ MC wouldn’t do for any of us. Why are ya worried about interfering now? How many times did ya try to kill MC, huh? And what about Belphie?”

Lucifer was in shock. Mammon never talks to him in such a way. But before he could question his brother’s sudden bravery, Mammon stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

Mammon wasn't without options. Lucifer's help was preferred, but not needed. He was going to the human world, to you, no matter the cost.

After leaving Lucifer's office, Mammon went straight to his room, looking for anything he could use as a trade or payment but couldn't find anything she would want. He would just have to make another deal.. He would worry about the repercussions of that decision later.

He pulled out his wallet and dug out the picture he secretly kept stashed away. He took it when you all went on a retreat to the Demon Lord's castle and got to tour the royal gardens. You were the most mesmerizing thing in that garden. The way your face lit up and your eyes sparkled. You talked non stop about how beautiful all the flowers were, but they all paled in comparison to you.

A small smile spread across his lips before tucking the photo safely back in it's place.

His smile was quickly replaced with a groan when he realized the next step of this little adventure was going to be less than fun.

If there was one thing Mammon hated (and was terrified of), it was witches. Especially the scary ones. And this one was indeed scary, but she was also the only witch left that would still make deals with the Avatar of Greed.

-

"I guess this is the right place?" He asked himself quietly, standing on the sidewalk in front of a quaint little house.

The witch had indeed agreed to make the deal and send him to the human world on the condition that he would retrieve a rare item for her, as she was currently stuck at her creepy cottage that was nestled deeply in the Dark Forest and could not leave.

'Bring me the heart of a mammal, not of our world, that thrives on malice and sadism. If you cannot fulfill your end of the deal, I will place a curse on you until the ends of eternity that will make everything of value you come in contact with turn to ash.'

He shuddered at what she had said. He wasn't sure how he'd find something like that, but decided to worry about it later.

‘When you are ready to return, go to the spot I told you about and say the incantation. The portal will open and bring you back here. I expect to receive the heart upon your return.’ 

He climbed the steps leading onto the porch and approached the front door. He knocked a few times before taking a step back, rocking back and forth on his heels while he waited.

No answer.

Maybe MC ain't home.. He thought.

Just as he was about to knock again, he noticed the curtain in the window pull to the side, followed immediately by what sounded like several locks being unlocked. The door flung open, revealing the occupant of the house. But, there’s no way it could be you. ..Right?

But it was you.

Deep purple bags sat underneath eyes that no longer sparkled. Your cheeks were sunken in a little and your face had no color. It looked as if you hadn't slept in days. You looked from side to side several times, like you were paranoid about being in the open.

Mammon was frozen in place, a lump forming in his throat.

"MC...?" He asked quietly.

Tears quickly filled your eyes, falling in fat drops. You launched yourself at him, throwing your arms around his middle and burying your face into his chest where you began to sob loudly.

Without missing a beat, he scooped you up bridal style and took you back inside the house. He kicked the door shut, taking note of the five locks on the door, and made his way over to the couch.

Why so many locks? This don't look like a bad neighborhood..

He laid down, gently pulling you on top of him as sobs continued to wrack through you. He rubbed soothing circles on your back, trying to help calm you down. He took in the state of his surroundings.

From his spot on the couch he could see the back door, which also had several locks on it. The windows behind the couch had pieces of wood shoved in them to prevent them from being opened. A blinking light on the bookshelf caught his eye. It was one of those live feed security cameras.

What the fuck is goin' on?

By now you had calmed down enough to try and sit up. Mammon moved you off of him and sat you down on the couch, giving you a concerned look.

"I'm sorry," you began, wiping your tears away with your sleeve, trying to stifle a hiccup, "I didn't expect to see you and I kinda got overwhelmed."

He paused for a moment, looking at everything he had noticed that was off about the room.

"MC...is everythin' ok?" He asked.

He saw something flash across your face, before you hid it away, replacing it with a fake half smile.

"Huh? Yeah, of course. I missed you. You know I'm a cry baby."

He scooted a little closer, leaning down slightly to look you in the eye. His face was more serious that you'd ever seen it.

"No, MC. Somethin' weird is going on that you're not tellin' me." He said, gesturing with his hands at the room around him.

The fake “I’m okay” face you plastered on had fallen. You sighed heavily and got up from the couch, gesturing for Mammon to stay where he was.

You went down the hallway and disappeared into one of the rooms. You returned a couple minutes later with a box about twice the size of a shoe box.

You sat the box on the coffee table in front of the couch and handed him a piece of paper and what looked to be a newspaper clipping. You returned to where you had been sitting and gestured at the box, tears filling your eyes once again.

“This is why I’ve been so distant from everyone. And why all of this-” you gestured at the room and yourself, “looks the way that it does.” You wiped away a tear that had fallen. “Start with the letter I handed you, then the box.” You instructed.

His heart rate accelerated, and he gave you a confused look. As per your instructions, he started reading the letter.

Then read it again.

He opened the box in a frenzy and froze in his place when he saw the contents. Dozens of letters, and countless pictures of.. you? His heart dropped into his stomach.

With a handful of pictures, he turned toward where you sat, you were already watching him. Tears pricked his eyes.

You were being... stalked?

Someone was threatening you.. harassing you..

“MC, wha-” He started to speak, but didn’t know what to say. He began pacing.

“It started a little over a month ago,” you began to explain, “that was the first one I got from them.”

That’s around the same time Asmo said MC seemed flustered by some hate mail they got..

“They started showing up more and more frequently. I was getting them at work and school too.” 

Mammon’s head was spinning.

“Why? Why didn’t ya tell me?” He asked quietly, stopping to look at you, tear streaks staining his face.

“They threatened my family.. I couldn’t let anything bad happen to them.”

“We coulda talked to Lucifer and Lord Diavolo. They would’ve protected them.”

You shook your head, “I couldn’t take that chance, Mammon.” You stood up and walked over to him, once again wrapping your arms around his middle and resting your cheek on his chest. He held you close, his wings wrapping around you protectively.

He wasn’t quite sure when he’d shifted into demon form and It was very unlike him. Out of all his brothers, he was the most level headed one, believe it or not. He was the least likely to lose his temper, or to unknowingly shift into his demon form. Sure, he got into his fair share of trouble being the Avatar of Greed, but none of those resulted in him losing his grip on his temper. Perhaps that’s why Lucifer chose him to look after you upon your arrival in the Devildom. He knew that out of all of them, Mammon was patient and almost never lost control. He knew he’d be the one who could keep you safe.

None of that mattered now, because he in the end, he didn’t keep you safe..

He couldn’t believe it. His human had been in danger all this time and he never knew.. 

He thought you were seeing someone else, all the while some sicko was watching you. Threatening you.

He was livid.

He broke the embrace and looked down at you.

“I’m gonna go call Lucifer and fill him in on what’s been goin’ on.” He said quietly.

“What about my family? Who knows if or when the stalker will find out you’re here. They’re in danger, Mammon.” 

“I’ll make sure they’re safe, okay?” You paused for a moment, and nodded. You absolutely trusted Mammon. You had no doubt that he’d protect them and you. Now that he was here, you felt safe for the first time in weeks.

Mammon never left your side. He sat with you, after he insisted you eat something, and also stayed with you while you showered. You already seemed to feel better. Color was coming back to your cheeks, and the light in your eyes wasn’t so dull.

When you got sleepy, he laid with you, holding you as close as he could, never wanting to let go. The last time he let you go, this is how things ended up..

He stayed there still as a statue, silently kicking himself for letting you down, when he felt your breathing slow. Your hand still on his chest where you had been drawing random shapes. You always looked so beautiful while you slept.

He carefully untangled himself from you and got out of the bed, pulling the covers over you. You squirmed for a minute and snuggled into the spot he had been laying in, letting out a content sigh. By the looks of it, this was the first time you’d slept so peacefully in quite some time. The thought made his stomach churn.

He quietly left the room, pulling the door behind him, leaving it slightly cracked. He checked all the doors and locks one more time, then went into the living room. He pulled his phone out, bringing up the all too familiar number. He began pacing around the room when it started to ring. It was late now, but he would definitely still be awake.

-

“Well, if it isn’t the runaway.”

Mammon rolled his eyes, “You’re s’posed to say ‘Hello?’ when you answer the phone.”

A dark, stifled laugh came through the other end. Even from this far away, he could be intimidating.

“Do you have any idea, what you’ve done? What am I to tell Lord Diavolo, hmm?”

“Lucifer, listen..” Mammon began, but was cut off.

“I am going to string you upside down from the rafters for the next two centuries, at least. That is, after you’ve received official punishment from Diavolo of course.”

“Luci-”

“You have no business.. no. You have no right to interfere in MC’s life. To run off to the human world, with the help of witches nonetheless, without thinking about the consequen-”

“MC is being stalked!” Mammon shouted, slapping a hand over his mouth afterward and looking down the hallway, hoping he hadn’t woke you up. He let his hand drop when he heard your quiet breathing coming from the bedroom.

The line was quiet for a moment.

“...What?” Lucifer asked, his tone now quiet, laced with concern rather than malice.

“MC is being stalked.” He repeated, pacing the floor.

Silence again.

“You’re sure?”

Mammon stopped momentarily and glanced at the box on the coffee table, “Yeah, I’m sure. The sicko has been sending ‘em hate mail everyday for weeks now. They also send pictures, Lucifer.. of MC. At the store, when they’re at work, and even some of MC outside their house.” He gritted his teeth. His throat burned, feeling as if it had been burned with fire. The things he wanted to do to this freak..

“Why didn’t MC contact the police, or us?” Lucifer asked quietly. Mammon could detect the faint hint of sadness in his older brother’s voice.

“They’ve been danglin’ MC’s family over their head. Said if MC told anyone, they’d kill ‘em.” He explained.

He heard a sigh on the other end. Lucifer knew you all to well, just like the rest of them did. He knew you were willing to put yourself in harm’s way for the people you cared about. You had done the very same for him and his brothers numerous times. You weren’t concerned by your own self-preservation if it meant protecting someone you love.

“What is their end goal then?” Lucifer asked.

“Not too sure, but a lot of the letters said that they were gonna ‘cleanse’ MC. Maybe trying to ‘save’ them? The stalker seems kinda churchy and they’re targeting MC because of us and Lord Diavolo’s plan to unite the realms.”

The other end of the phone was silent again for a moment, then he heard the shuffling of papers and what sounded like footsteps.

“Mammon, listen carefully. For now, stay with MC and don’t leave the house. This stalker may not know you’re there yet. We need to keep it that way if we intend to protect MC’s family. I need to consult with Lord Diavolo. I will call you when I know more.” With that, the call was abruptly ended. He shoved the phone in his pocket.

He quietly crept back to the bedroom where you were still sound asleep and watched over your sleeping form for a moment. His heart started to ache. The thought of someone putting you through all of this, tormenting you for weeks on end..

You were definitely the strongest human he knew, you proved that more times than he could count. To see you like this, so broken, a ghost of your former self, filled him with pure rage.

He crawled into the bed, the slight movement waking you up.  

“Shh, s’okay. Go back to sleep.” He whispered, pulling to snugly against him. You  laid your head on his chest, your arms wrapped around him and gave a small squeeze before he felt your body relax again, having fallen back asleep.

He missed these moments. The cute, sleepy cuddles in the middle of the night. Feeling the warmth of your body next to his and your quiet breathing. He missed walking to RAD together, hatching schemes, and running from Lucifer. Convincing his brothers to trade him so he always had kitchen duty with you, the way your hair smells, or how perfect you look under the moon of the Devildom. He missed you.

He used to have such a hard time expressing things, thinking it made him look weak. He’s one of the seven rulers of the underworld, after all. As if he’d ever care about a human. He can’t let lesser demons think he’s gone soft, so he masked his feelings, or tried to anyway. It didn’t last long.

You were so different, exciting, even for a human. You were always nice and never called him names like everyone else. You even stood up for him against his brothers and actually wanted to be around him. You weren’t like anyone he’d ever known. He couldn’t help but be drawn to you, which terrified him.

He is a demon after all, and with that comes some responsibilities, so to speak. Being the Avatar of Greed, he would never be able to escape his sin. It’s part of who he is. 

But he found himself trying to get better control of it. He still got himself in sticky situations, but for the most part he was going straight, taking on more modeling gigs and other legitimate ways to make Grimm instead of stealing stuff and hatching ‘get rich quick’ schemes. He was even trying harder at RAD. He desperately wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t all the things everyone said he was, prove that he was someone worthy of your kindness and warmth.

But when he held your lifeless body in his arms, too fragile to withstand Belphie’s attack, screaming your name between sobs and begging you to open you eyes even just a little, he was made painfully aware of the truth he hid away in his heart. 

All he could think of was how he never got to tell you that you weren’t just some annoying human that made his life harder and drove him crazy. You were his best friend, the only person that’s ever understood him, like a little ray of sunlight cast into his darkness, warm and bright. You’re the only person he’s ever loved..

Thanks to Barbatos, everything worked out and he promised himself he’d be different, he wouldn’t hide his feelings anymore. He didn’t care if how he felt for you made him weak, because honestly, he was. When it came to you, he was the softest demon the Devildom had. He wouldn’t deny it any longer.

He had waited centuries for someone to come along and willingly give him the love he so craved. Someone who could see that he was more than just a Grimm hungry scumbag like everyone said. And you did just that.

Blame his greed if you will, but you were his human. He thought he had lost you once, and he wasn’t going to sit by quietly and let someone come in and take you away, or cause you harm.

For you, his precious human, he was more than willing to go to the ends of the three realms, if to only be able to show you a fraction of the gratitude and love he had in his heart for you. For choosing him. For changing him and his brothers for the better

His arms tightened around you protectively.

“I’ll never leave ya again.” He silently swore, placing a kiss on top of your head. “Never.”

-

Mammon was awakened by his phone ringing. Still in his pocket, he tried his best to fish it out without disturbing you, as you slept soundly on his chest.

“Hello?” He answered groggily, voice rough from sleep.

“Shouldn’t you already be awake? It’s nearly noon there.” Even in a different realm, Lucifer still found time to scold him. Mammon ignored it for now as there were more important things to worry about.

“Did ya talk to Lord Diavolo?”

“Yes, I did. He decided that it’d be best to bring MC back to the Devildom for the time being, until the stalker is dealt with.”

“And their family? What about them?”

“Lord Diavolo is sending in a team of highly trained guards. MC’s family will be under constant protection until this is solved.”

“Okay. Oh, uh, Lucifer? Could ya maybe tell their family some other reason they’re gettin’ the bodyguards, without mentioning the stalker? I don’t think MC wants to worry them..”

“Yes. I’ll make sure the guards know as well.”

Mammon sighed with relief. It looked like everything was going to be okay. 

Even if he and his brothers didn’t get along the best, he knew he could always count on them.

-

“Man, ya got nothin’ in here, MC.” Mammon complained. You watched from where you sat on the couch, as most of his upper body disappeared inside the refrigerator.

“Yeah, I’ve been too paranoid to go food shopping lately. I usually just eat at work.”

That hurt his heart. No wonder you felt lighter. You worked at a small coffee shop, it’s not like they had much other than muffins and scones.

Mammon shut the fridge door and padded into the living room, leaning on the doorway.

“Well, I’m starving. I’m sure you are too. So, c’mon, let’s go.” He said, motioning for you to follow him as he walked toward the front door, looking for his shoes.

“Lucifer said not to leave the house.” You reminded him.

“Oh, right. Hmm.” He put a finger to his chin, snapping his fingers when he thought of a solution, “We could get delivery.”

You nodded, “Yeah, ok. There was no rule against that.”

You placed an order at your favorite take out place, the one you used to get delivery from a couple times a week before all of this started. You were such a regular that you and the delivery guy on your route were pretty well acquainted now.

“Alex should be here soon.” You said to Mammon, setting your phone on the coffee table. 

He had been watching a video on his phone, slumped into the couch next to you, but something you said caught his attention.

“Huh? Who’s Alex?” He asked, abandoning his video to look at you.

“Oh, he’s the delivery guy on this route. Every time I order from this place he’s always the one that comes so we kinda know each other now I guess.” You explained.

“Ah.” He said nodding his head, turning back to his video.

“When he gets here, you’ll have to hide in the other room, though.”

Mammon nearly dropped his phone he was so flustered. He quickly sat up, his face turning red.

“Huh?! Just how close are ya with this “Alex”, MC?” He screeched, making air quotes around the guy’s name. His reaction confused you. Then it clicked. You could see how he interpreted it that way.

“What? Mammon, no.” You tried to hide a giggle. “It’s not like that. The stalker could be nearby watching the house. If you open the door or something they’ll see you and know that I most likely told you everything. Diavolo’s guards aren’t here yet, so it’s best if you remain hidden.” You explained.

He immediately deflated. “Oh r-right. Yeah, I knew that.” 

You walked over to him and got on your tip toes, placing a quick peck on his cheek. “You’ll always be my first man, Mammon.” A smile spread across his face.

He quickly wrapped you up in a hug and pulled you close, letting out a sigh.

“The Devildom ain’t been the same without ya. It doesn’t feel like home no more.”

You squirmed in his arms until you could look up at him.

“I missed you too.” You replied, knowing that that’s essentially what he was trying to say. He’d definitely improved on telling you hw he felt, but could still be emotionally constipated sometimes.

He was quiet for a moment, then you felt him tense.

“MC, I’m sorry I didn’t keep you saf-”

“Stop right there.” You said, pulling out of his embrace enough that he could see your face. 

“This is not your fault, or anyone else’s. This person is sick and lashing out because their personal prejudices aren’t enough to stop change. No matter what you’re trying to change, there will always be someone against it.”

His expression softened a little bit, relieved that you didn’t blame him.

“No matter how much people may hate me or try to hurt me, I will never regret my time in the Devildom. I may be human, but the Devildom is my home now too.” You returned to his embrace, squeezing him tightly.

You felt him relax, resting his cheek on top of your head.

“I love ya, MC.” He said quietly. With your head on his chest, you could hear his heart start beating faster. You smiled into his shirt.

“I love you, too.”

You stayed like that, wrapped up safe in each others arms, for what seemed like forever and not nearly long enough at the same time. The doorbell being the only reason you separated.

“Mammon, the food.” You said, trying to squirm out of his arms.

“No.” 

“Mammon?”

He grunted.

“Mammonnn, I’m starving!” You whined, still fighting to free yourself.

He dropped his arms, grumbling out a “Fine.”

“Go in the bedroom.” You said, pushing him forward. You put a finger to your lips when he turned to face you as if to “Shh” him. He made a face at you, but still complied.

You made your way back to the living room, and after checking the peephole, opened the door.

“Hey, Alex.” You greeted.

“MC, long time no see. How have you been?” He inquired, handing you the bag of food.

“Busy, as usual.” You replied, stepping back inside to set the food on the small table next to the door, grabbing the money.

When you turned back, you noticed his gaze on something just inside the door, next to your feet. You glanced down to see Mammon’s shoes where he had kicked them off after first arriving yesterday.

His expression had changed suddenly. He almost looked...angry?

You brushed it off, assuming he was having a rough day or something. Sticking out your arm, you handed him cash for the food and his tip, but he made no move to reach for it. His eyes still fixated on the shoes.

“Are you alone?” He asked quietly.

“I’m sorry?” You asked. You were sure you’d heard him right, you just didn’t know why he’d ask you something like that. You’d only ever exchanged small talk about work and the weather, so it’s not like you were close enough for him to inquire about something so personal.

His turned his gaze back to you, eyes now visibly cold.

“Is there someone in there with you? Someone not from around here maybe?”

The hair on the back of your neck was standing up. The way he asked the last question.. Something wasn’t right.

He leaned in slightly, “I thought I told you not to tell anyone?”

You felt the color drain from your face, your heart dropped into your stomach.

It’s him..

A sickening smile spread across his face at the realization of you figuring everything out.

“Not so tough now are ya, demon whore?”

Mammon can’t see the front door from the bedroom.. Think, MC. Think!

You quickly took a deep breath, filling your chest.

Mammon is right there in the other room, all you have to do is scream.

Sensing what you were planning to do, Alex grabbed you, holding you with your back against his chest, his hand clamped down hard over your mouth. You started to squirm and fight, trying to break free.

“Shhh. We wouldn’t want to make a scene now, do we?” He whispered into your ear. You felt something sharp poke your side and assumed it was a knife.

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes.

He’s going to kill me..

“You’re coming with me.” Keeping the knife in your ribs so you’d do as he said, he quickly led you to his car where he opened the trunk and shoved you inside.

“I hadn’t planned on doing your cleansing this early, but oh well. The sooner the better.” He said, laughing, shutting the trunk lid. As soon as it latched you checked for the trunk release that should be on the inside, but this car was much older and didn’t have one. You were stuck.

You wondered why no one had seen what was happening, but it all happened so quickly that unless you were purposefully watching, you wouldn’t have noticed anything.

This was it. Whatever this sicko had planned was how it ended for you. 

You just wanted one more hug. One more kiss. One more chance to love him before it all got taken away.

You curled up into the fetal position, keeping his face at the front of your mind. Your tears now falling freely.

Mammon, I love you... I’m sorry..

| part three |

[azurevi]

enstars charas with an overworked s/o

First time writing enstars🤡 this took kinda long becz exams but i hope its good ^^ also kinda self indulgent hhh

Characters : natsume, ibara, leo, tatsumi, arashi, keito

Natsume

Natsume watches from the doorway as your head bobs about, hands tapping unrhythmically on the keyboard. You're already falling asleep, yet you still refuse to go to bed. 

Normally he won't interfere with your work, knowing that you're fully capable of making the right decisions, but it's a pain seeing you pushing yourself so hard. 

"Still working?" he steps in, holding a steaming drink in his hands. 

Your head snaps up at his voice, and you nod. It's a project that you've put off for far too long, and of course, you have to suffer the consequences. 

"The deadline is two days later, if I don't finish this section today I probably won't make it in time,"

He sets the mug beside your hand, observing your wandering gaze and disheveled hair which you must've been running your hand through. "I don't think you can finish it, though. You already look worn out."

You raise the mug to your lips and take a sip of whatever it holds. The drink tastes sweet and refreshing in your mouth, and almost instantly your muscles relax. "You aren't any better, you know,"

That's true. Being a nightowl himself, Natsume's words don't really seem all that persuasive. At first you would lecture him about how little he rested, but you gave up eventually. You suppose he's built differently, seeing as he can still perform well after only three hours of sleep. 

"Pretty sure I'm in better condition," he says, pulling a chair beside you and popping down. The wood scraps against the floor, creaking slightly. It's usually a sound that you find unbearable, but you seem to have missed it as you try to continue your work.

"Come here, love," he stretches his arms out, wiggling his fingers expectantly. You raise a brow, contemplating whether you should give in. It won't be a surprise if you fall asleep right away in his arms. 

"But work…" you sigh, tearing your eyes from him. His shoulders drop immediately, a frown forming from the rejection. "You're just gonna leave me hanging? How cruel…"

You know he's just messing with you when he let out a dramatic huff, but somehow his defeated look still tucks at your heartstrings. 

"Fine, fine…" you sigh, sneaking your arms around his torso and burying your head into his neck. His chest hums with satisfaction as he digs his fingers into your messy hair, soothing out knots he finds along the way gently. With every stroke you're getting drowsier and drowsier, and you know that you're supposed to be working, but the feeling of his hand running through your locks and the steady rise of his chest convince you to stay. 

You fall asleep almost immediately after you close your eyes. Natsume calls out to you and smiles when he hears your slight snoring instead. It's probably the best to get you to the bed and tug you in, but he decides to stay in his spot for a moment longer and relish your presence. 

Ibara

Ibara knows from experience just how hard it can be to sway you when you’ve made up your mind. That’s why he doesn’t try to sweet talk you or lecture you into sleeping. 

No, if he really wants to get you to listen, he will have to trick you into it. 

Almost like a hunter watching his prey, Ibara leans against the doorway as he tries to come up with a flawless plan for his mission. Several empty cans are littered around the desk and he can already smell the aroma of coffee from so far away. You had your fist in your hair, and every once in a while you had to stretch your muscles awkwardly from the lack of movement.

“Don’t you think you deserve a break?” he walks towards you, peeking over your shoulder at the work you’re struggling with. It’s yet another project for the other units, and you seem to be stuck in a dilemma.

“I don’t feel like sleeping without finishing this,” you say.

“Right, but I think you added an extra 0 here,” he points at the paper you're working on, where the value had been increased tenfold because of your negligence. 

“Oh goodness,” you sigh deeply, immediately erasing the zero. “How amateurish of me,”

Ibara watches as you rub the space between your eyes, trying to soothe the looming headache that was making your work even harder. “It feels like all the muscles in my body died,”

“You’ve been sitting for hours after all,” Ibara suddenly smiles, his eyes diminishing into thin slits. You don’t need to hear anything to know that he’s plotting something behind the smile. “What if I give you a short massage?”

Well… that is unexpected.

“A massage,” you repeat.

“That’s right,”

Now that is interesting. You’ve heard from Hiyori about how good Ibara’s massages are for more times than you can count, and it’s something you’ve always wanted to try. It just keeps slipping your mind. A massage sounds just as appealing as a five star meal right now considering how tired your limbs feel.

“Come on, I promise it’ll be worth it,”

“Fine,”

His smile widens even more. “Alright then! Please get onto the bed,”

“You wanna do it on the bed?” you frown. “I’ll fall asleep,”

“It’s not gonna be long,”

This sounds way too risky especially with the amount of work that’s still unfinished, but his grin is unwavering, as if he already knows what your answer will be.

“God, alright,” you admit defeat and throw yourself onto the bed face first. There is a moment of quiet shuffling before Ibara settles himself behind you, making sure he isn't crushing you under his weight. His hands find their way to your back, and start working their magic.

"Normally I would get massage oils, but that'll be for next time," Ibara says in a low voice, as if trying to lull you to sleep. Hiyori was right about his skills -- you don't think you've ever had a massage so satisfying before. Somehow, he just knows where to knead and how much pressure to put. With every passing minute your muscles are getting looser, as is your mind. You almost feel bad experiencing this for free.

You're about to fall asleep when something suddenly jolted your consciousness, like a big slap to your face. You have no idea how long you've been laying down in that hazy state, but you've still got work to do.

"That was the most incredible massage ever but I have to work now…" is what you're trying to say, but the words come out too jumbled and incoherent to be understood. When you try to get up, Ibara presses you back down, insisting that he's not done with the massage yet.

"I'm going to fall asleep for real," you argue weakly as your body slumps back into the mattress. Ibara watches as your words cease and your face loosens up, mouth slightly ajar as you finally indulge yourself to sleep. Maybe you'll be mad at you in the morning, but seeing you rest makes everything worth it.

Leo

This is so, so ridiculous. 

You've been telling Leo to go to bed for the past two hours, but did he listen? Evidently not, seeing as he's clinging to your arm with half-lidded eyes that are failing him every two seconds.

"Just go to sleep first, kay? I still have tons of stuff to do," you flip the pile of complicated documents around, not wanting to spare them another glance. Alas, there isn't much time left before your work is due, and the only way you can think of to tackle this is to keep pushing through no matter how worn out your body feels.

Your head is throbbing and somehow your sight just won't focus. You're pretty sure you're starving too, but you feel no incentive to leave your seat and grab snacks. No, you have to finish your work as soon as possible.

This might've been a lot easier if not for Leo. In the middle of your working he suddenly jolted awake and whined about wanting to cuddle with you. It's no surprise though, considering how often the two of you cling to each other during your sleep, but tonight just doesn't work out.

"Aren't you tired too? I can't sleep without you…" Leo mumbles.

"Pretty sure you're falling asleep as you speak," you say, even though you shouldn't be the one talking right now, not when you're also getting groggy just from his warmth and presence. 

When you turn to look at him, his face is squished against your arm, mouth slightly ajar as he snores. To prevent him from waking up again, you decide to tuck him in.

Which is a big mistake, because just the sight of the bed is enough to knock you out. Also because Leo's not letting go of your arm even in his sleep.

"Come to rest, please…" he mumbles quietly and you sigh. Trying to work when your body is screaming isn't going to do much anyway, you suppose, and you flop yourself onto the mattress with the boy. Leo may be childish at times, but everything he does comes from wishing for your wellbeing. 

Tatsumi

Lying to Tatsumi feels like committing the worst crime ever, but the guilt of going to sleep with your work still unfinished is even greater. 

That explains why you're here under the dim light of the desk lamp against Tatsumi's advice, trying to fight the sleepiness getting to your head as you type away on the keyboard. Just a few more pages and you will go to sleep, you decide, but 'a few more pages' is looking a lot like five essays right now.

You lean back against the chair, throwing your head back. You dare not close your eyes, because you're sure a second longer than an usual blink and you'll be a goner.

"Come on, come on…" you return to the original position, shoulders slumped and eyes squinting as you try to string sentences together. What is usually an easy task has become an impossible mission, and the voice at the back of your head suggesting you to give up isn't any help.

Absorbed in your work, you fail to notice the ruffling of the blanket and the shuffling of slippers behind you. When Tatsumi sets his hands on the back of your chair and calls you, you flinch dramatically.

"Oh," you sigh after calming down. "Did I wake you up?"

"Not really," he says. "I thought you agreed to go to sleep,"

You grimace at his words that remind you how you made a false promise with him when all he wanted was for you to take care of yourself. "I know I did, but I couldn't really fall asleep thinking of all this stuff," you gesture vaguely at the screen.

"I don't think you're doing well though," 

As if trying to prove his point, a yawn escaped your lips and tears blurred your vision. "I suppose not,"

He sits back onto the bed, reaching out so that he can hold your hands in his. "It's no use trying to work in your current state, you know? I know that you're feeling stressed out from all the work piling up, but rest is important for your productivity too. And I'd hate to see you overworking yourself," he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. "Let's go to bed first, and we'll tackle whatever's on your plate tomorrow, alright?"

He doesn't have to say much to sway you. It's one of his charms anyways -- being able to persuade you without even trying.

Arashi

Arashi glances at the clock. 1am. You've been working at your desk since 8, and she can see that you're already starting to fall asleep.

"Sweetheart? You should go rest," she says softly, resting her arms on your shoulders from behind. This brings your mind back to the present, and you sigh realizing that you've zoned out once again.

"Is this due soon?" Arashi asks.

"Not quite, but I don't want to pile everything up. I'm supposed to finish this part today but so many things happened that hindered my plans," you rub you the corners of your eyes. "And I'm already feeling tired,"

"Then you should probably sleep, right? Lack of sleep can mess your face up easily," she turns to cup your face, professionally observing your skin and missing the blush on your face. "You still look cute, but I'd be really sad if you became a victim of sleep deprivation~"

Her voice sounds light and casual, but you can tell that she's genuinely worried about your health. You pull her into a hug, burying your head in her clothes. She always gives the best hugs, hugs that understands you without having to exchange words, hugs that reassure you and rid you of anything on your mind, that remind you even if the world turned its back on you, you'd still have a home to come to.

"Let's go to bed," you suggest, voice woozy. 

"Sure, but let's do some skincare routine first!"

You always enjoy doing routines with her even though you're never one to pay much attention to yourself. But something about her being close and taking care of your face makes you feel at ease, and with her soft hands working on your cheeks, you quickly fall asleep.

Noticing your dropping head, Arashi lets out a sigh before carrying you in her arms, planting a light kiss on your forehead

"Sweet dreams, my love,"

Keito

When you started dating Keito, Kuro was quite delighted. One because he never believed someone could actually put up with the man, and two because someone can finally keep an eye on his atrocious working schedule.

What he didn't expect though, is that you're just as much of a hard worker as Keito. 

As the night passes, the two of you are still working incessantly. Except from the occasional small talks, there's only the sound of paper and keyboard in the room. The tea he brewed a while ago has already been emptied. You turn to look at the green-haired man, and although you can only see his back, he doesn't seem to be too affected by all this work. Perhaps his monstrous workload back in Yumenosaki Academy has turned him into a machine who doesn't feel tired.

But that can't be true. Surely, overworking a lot doesn't make you immune to it. Keito may not be vocal about how he feels, but he's still a human, and he's bound to feel tired,

The tapping sound on his end pauses abruptly as he turns to you, only to meet your observing eyes. This startles him a bit, and you let out a small chuckle.

"You should go rest-" he glances at the clock on the wall and frowns. "-it's already so late,"

"You're one to talk," you retort.

"I can still function without sleeping, but you shouldn't push yourself too hard,"

There it is again. He never seems to acknowledge his own weaknesses, only paying attention to others as he hides his feelings inside the myriad of work thrown at him each day. 

"No one can 'function without sleeping', Keito. You're not a superman,"

"..." 

Keito's shoulders are still tense, but he seems to be deep in thought as he isn't working on the computer either. After a moment of silence, he shakes his head and resumes typing. Perhaps he's reminded of his responsibilities, of the various roles that he plays, and how he can't afford to let anyone down.

As always, it's hard to move Keito. You brush it off and turn back to your work. 

It isn't until Keito stands up to get himself a new mug of tea that he realizes how drained you look. Your eyelids are drooping and even from far away he can notice errors on the computer screen. Your figure is slouched, leaning towards the table like you just want to fall asleep right there but can't.

"You should really go to bed," Keito walks to you, hand resting on the chair's rail. 

"Are you going to come with me?"

"What?"

"Are you going to come to bed with me?" you repeat.

"I still have work,"

"Then I'm not gonna rest yet,"

Keito raises his brows. "Are you threatening me with your own health?"

"If this is what I need to do for you to rest, then so be it,"

Silence fills the room. He watches as you tap away on the keyboard, re-typing every once in a while because your fingers just can't seem to find the keys. It's almost painful to watch.

"How incorrigible," Keito sighs. "Alright. Let's go,"

You jump to your feet immediately, dragging him to the bedroom. "No sneaking out after I fall asleep, okay? You have to rest for real,"

"Fine," Keito grunts.

The moment his head falls onto the pillow, he swears he can slip into dreamland right away. You throw your arm across his torso and he instinctively rests his head atop yours, listening as your breathing becomes more and more calm.

The both of you may be hopeless cases, but you always find a way to hold each other up.

[folkloreguk]

❥ My Sweet Evil Heart (C.Chanhee)

A/N: I wrote this as part of an angel/demon collab for The Boyz! You can find the masterlist HERE. This was really fun to write and I got to live out my alternate universe dream in which I'm a detective...I hope you like it, I'm always welcome to any form of feedback!

genre: demon!Chanhee, detective!reader, angst, fluff, reader is constantly sleep deprived, Chanhee is the sweetest demon ever

synopsis: You, a highly respected detective in your department, are investigating a case of a very strange demon who seems hesitant to do evil...but can you trust someone who is supposed to be the personification of wickedness?

words: ~ 10.6k

Have you ever met someone deeply unhappy? Someone who seems to, at all times, be fighting a war inside of themselves? Have you ever felt empathy for somebody, even though they tested you, over and over, as if the worst part inside of them was trying to make them lose you on purpose? Did you hold on and never stop believing in them? Or did you say something to drive them away, making them think they would only hurt you in the process of you trying to make them see clearer?

This is the story of a demon, whose every cell demurred at his evil nature. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves and start with the basics.

Being one of the head detectives at the local police station was not an easy-going, nor an amusing job. Whilst working on serious cases, lacking proper sleep was not an uncommon occurrence for you, and in some instances, self-care came up short until the mystery had been solved and the guilty ones were locked away. Every case pulled you in and swallowed you whole, keeping you deeply invested for days and nights until your brain felt like it had turned to mush and your body worked on autopilot, until you functioned a little like a highly intelligent zombie. And yet, you couldn’t imagine yourself doing anything else in your life. The thrill was close to an obsession, and seeing justice being served thanks to your work was more addicting than any drug could ever be to you.

Most crimes in your world were committed by demons, of course. They were your worst enemies, the monsters you saw in your nightmares and the reason you never strolled down a street without a gun by your hip. It wasn’t forbidden for them to walk the earth, so long as they kept to themselves. Their evil nature made it almost impossible for them to uphold these terms, though. You wished you could lock them all away in some putrid prison cell, or better yet, send them back to where they crawled out from originally. But the law couldn’t convict beings before they had done anything wrong. So, it was on you to make sure you kept an eye on the sinister beings, figure out what they were up to and stop them before they could actually hurt somebody. Like that morning, when you were called to a liquor store to investigate a break-in.

“My name is Y/F/N Y/L/N, I am the lead investigator,” you greeted the store owner with a handshake upon arrival. “Can you tell me exactly what happened?”

“I came here this morning at around 7 to open up the store. When I got out of my car, I saw the broken glass of the window,” he explained.

“What was taken from inside the store?” you inquired further.

“That’s the weird thing. Nothing is missing from inside,” he said.

“We might just be dealing with vandalism,” you thought out loud. “Do you have security cameras?”

He did, and so you went along with him to the back of the store. It was true, the interior of the shop seemed completely untouched. You suspected whoever had done this had never even intentioned on entering. There was a college campus not too far from the store, and you recalled countless times you had witnessed careless vandalism done by some intoxicated students during a Friday night. It was a very human-like crime. Demons weren’t known to do things by halves. Their crimes were usually the go-big-or-go-home-type of crimes. But then, when you watched the security footage, you were stunned.

At precisely 3:29 am, a dark figure appeared in front of the window. They lifted their arms, swinging a baseball bat against the glass. And against your speculation, they did climb through the hole in the window. With no mask or disguise whatsoever, the demon man looked right into the camera in the corner of the room. The abyss of darkness in his pitch black eyes was unmistakable. He looked around, as if he was debating on whether he should have done more, but then, to your utter confusion, spun around on his heel and climbed right back out the window.

You assured the store owner you would be looking into this case. With nothing left to do, you headed back to the police station. You had taken the security footage with you, and the moment you arrived in your office, you played it on your computer screen. Over and over - only puzzling you more, with each rerun you saw. You worried this might only be a warning. Not seldom had you been a witness to demons playing with their prey, feeding off the fear of innocent souls. Was this one indulging in one of those little twisted games? Right away, you uploaded the demon’s face onto the database for criminals, even if vandalism didn’t compare to the serious allegations that stood against other faces on that list. While you turned your attention to other cases, his features wouldn’t leave your mind. Even when you left your office at night, he was still the most prominent person in your memory.

By the time you began your walk to your home, the sun had disappeared. You couldn’t help it, even if technically you could finish work earlier, your desire to solve your assigned cases was always higher. Had you just walked home at 5 pm, you were sure to end up on your computer at home, researching and digging around on the web to discover possible clues. This way, at least you had all resources you would need at your office at the police station.

Now, in the dark, the streets were rather abandoned, most shops had already closed, and the moon dimly cast light through the clouds. Those conditions were what made it a breeze for you to notice your shadow. The figure had been following you for 5 minutes now. Judging by how carelessly loud their steps sounded and by their not-so subtle choices of hiding spots, you could tell this wasn’t something they had practice in. Purposely, you didn’t turn around, so they wouldn’t realize you had caught on to them a while ago. Instead, only a minute or so from your home, you took a turn left into an abandoned alleyway. Your hand was on the gun in your belt.

Just as you had stepped into the alley, you turned. He was right behind you. With dark orbs glaring and teeth snarling he came at you, knife in hand. Your eyes widened – you recalled his face vividly – as you took in the situation in the blink of an eye. After all, you had watched the security tape of him breaking into the liquor store countless times only hours ago. But you had the upper hand from the very moment you had spun around. His build wasn’t particularly strong, but you knew you should never underestimate demons. You grabbed his shoulders and along with him, your body crashed against the red brick wall to your left. He struggled against your grip, but his determined and feisty expression was the by far the most intimidating part about him. His face was inches from yours but looking into the sort of darkness that were demon’s eyes did nothing to you. Your hand was around his wrist with the knife – which he was aggressively trying to bring down on you – but only at first.

Because suddenly, something uncommon occurred. So uncommon, in fact, that not a single cell in your body could believe it. He willingly dropped the blade. It hit the asphalt, the metallic sound echoing in your ears. He relaxed his arm in your iron grip. Demons never gave up. They fought until you had forcefully brought them to the ground or done worse to them. Their ironic god-complex and evilness didn’t allow them to step away from a fight – until this one had come along, apparently. And then, as if his behavior hadn’t already stunned you enough, he did the unthinkable.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Without a doubt you thought you had misheard him. Swiftly, you pulled your gun out of your belt and pointed it at his face. One thing you knew. You weren’t going to play along in his little games. In panic, he rose his hands, showing defeat.

“Quit playing games, devil’s son,” you hissed. “What is it you’re trying to achieve here? You’re sorry? For what?”

He was hesitant. With every second, your curiosity only grew. Either, he was a skilled actor or…you had no idea what else it could’ve been about him.

“I almost killed you. That’s what I’m sorry for,” he said. “Does that get me a prison sentence?”

Your eye twitched because this didn’t seem right at all.

“You broke into a shop and attacked me, but then stopped out of your free will,” you assessed the situation. “You’ll most likely get away with a fine and your name in our register.”

If you had been awaiting an evil grin or any sort of enjoyment in his face, you’d be waiting endlessly. If anything, he seemed to be…disappointed?

“But you’re a cop, right?” he said. “You can lock me up, can’t you?”

“Didn’t you hear what I said? You won’t be locked up if you don’t commit a crime severe enough. As much as I hate it, considering you demons are running free, it’s the law,” you said.

“You don’t get it,” he said. And he was right, you really had no idea. “I should be locked up. You need to get me to jail before I hurt somebody.”

His face was dead serious, but you didn’t want to believe a single word. How could you, when your daily life consisted of hunting down his kind, because all they brought upon the earth was chaos and death?

“Give me one good reason why I should believe you,” you said, unimpressed.

“I will tell you anything you want to hear,” he said. “If you bring me to a police station. You guys have these lie detectors, don’t you? I will take a test if that’s what it takes for you to believe me.”

~

So, that was how half an hour later you still hadn’t returned at home, but rather found yourself back at the police station. Almost everyone had gone home by now, so you took the liberty to choose the biggest interrogation room available. A few minutes and he was sitting in front of you, hands in handcuffs and his body connected to the lie detector.

“Okay, here’s how this works. I’ll start by asking some simple questions, and then we’ll get to the bottom of whatever your intentions are,” you explained.

“Alright. Go ahead,” he said. This was your first time seeing a demon take this sort of test. Usually, you couldn’t be bothered because you knew all they did was lie whilst smiling you in the face.

“What’s your name?”

“Choi Chanhee.”

“Where were you born?”

“In hell.”

“Did you break into a liquor store last night?”

“Yes.”

“Did you intend on killing me tonight?”

“…Yes.”

“Is that your definite answer?”

“…No.”

“How come both of your last two answers are lies?” you asked. “You didn’t intend on killing me, but yes is your definite answer?”

“I can’t stop the evil in me but I’m trying,” he said. You were stunned. The answer was the most truthful of them all.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I was never like the others since I came to earth. I’ve never felt a rush like they do, causing mischief and hurting humans. I don’t belong. It’s as if there was a demon inside of me, but it’s not controlling all of me, do you understand?” he said.

“I’m not sure, but go on,” you said.

“I don’t want to hurt anybody or destroy things. But on some days, I’m walking down the street and my body starts following the devil’s orders instead. I usually snap out of it quickly and stop myself. That’s why you’re still alive,” he explained.

“You’re telling me you’re some sort of good demon?” you asked. “Why don’t you go back to hell, if you’re struggling so much on earth?”

“I hate it there,” he said. “And either way, I’m banned from there forever.”

Your head raised as you stared at him.

“Banned?” you asked.

“I stopped a bunch of demons from killing a woman once,” he said. “Safe to say they weren’t happy to hear that, back at home. I couldn’t go back, even if I wanted to.”

“Can you tell me the name of the woman?” you asked. And he did. All this time, he really had been telling the truth. When you searched up the woman’s name in the computer, it only confirmed your suspicion. She really had been under attack when an unidentified person had interrupted and saved her life.

“I can tell you names of demons,” he said. “If you do me the favor of locking me up, I can sell out everyone I know about.”

You massaged the sides of your head and sighed. This guy really was one of a kind.

“I already told you, I can’t put you in jail for something you didn’t do,” you said. “That’s against the law, and then it’ll be me who ends up behind bars instead of you. I’ll have to let you go.”

“What if I mess up?” he said. The amounts of firsts you were experiencing in the timespan of an hour were giving you a headache. Never had you felt compassion for a demon before. But you were only human, and when you noticed the genuine concern and insecurity in his soft voice, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“How long have you been on earth for?” you asked.

“I don’t know, a few years, I guess?” he said.

“And in those few years, which of your deeds would you rate the most criminal out of all?” you asked. Any other demon would have been able to give you multiple answers, one more vicious than the other. He, on the other hand, took his time and even when he answered, he didn’t sound at all sure.

“I’ve broken into a house before, destroyed a car window and one time I stole a dog,” he confessed with his head tilted towards the floor.

“What happened to the dog?”

“I…gave it back,” he said. A laughter erupted from your throat against your will. In a friendly manner, you pat his shoulder before retrieving the keys to his handcuffs.

“Trust me, you’ll be just fine out there,” you said. “Whatever it is you’re doing to stop yourself from being evil, it’s working. I will let you go now."

Even though he wasn’t happy with your answer, he knew he had no choice but to comply. As you walked him through the hallways towards the exit of the station, you could only think of one thing: your beloved bed. Not only your body but especially your brain was drained from energy. You desperately needed a refill by getting a good night’s sleep.

“You’re the first person who’s been really kind to me,” he said, as you held the door open for him. The night air was cool, and you quickly zipped up your jacket to your chin.

“You gave me no reason not to be,” you replied.

“I almost stabbed you,” he said, bluntly.

“Almost.”

“For most people, me being a demon is reason enough to loathe me.”

“Well I guess I’m not most people,” you said. His smile was gentle, but his black eyes would always give him away. “I’ll be here at the station every day, if you have any concerns or need somebody to consult. But right now, all I want is my bed.”

“I understand,” he replied. “Thank you. Goodbye.”

“Good night,” you said, before you parted ways. Once more, you journeyed home. He remained on your mind until the moment you slipped off to dreamland that night.

~

The days passed without a trace of him. You followed your routine, but one thing you couldn’t help. You simply had to tell every person who worked with you about the changed demon you had met. No one really wanted to believe you. It was kind of understandable. Some thought you were testing their skills, seeing if they could figure out you were lying. Others went as far as to suspect your lack of sleep had given you hallucinations. But you didn’t let it go. And after all, you were a highly respected member of the police force. Some said they wanted to meet this demon gentleman, as they had renamed him.

But then you were called to a brand new homicide investigation and all of the jokes at the station were blown away by the intensity and buzz the case brought with it. You had a murder to solve. There was no place for sweet demon men in any part of your brain. Not for now. And as always, you slipped into old habits – staying up all night, living on coffee and quick meals – the toxic behavior was almost inescapable. Your fellow detectives tried their best to keep you healthy and most importantly, sane. They took you with them to get salad for lunch, invited you over for game nights (a futile attempt at giving you a break) and told you to go to sleep on time. After all, they needed your brain to function at full capacity for the case. You knew people were relying on your knowledge, and you weren’t doubting your capabilities. But a highly intelligent zombie was still a zombie. And so it happened that one Thursday night your boss sent you home. Not because you weren’t doing a good job – rather for of the opposite reason.

“You are allowed back at the station when you’ve caught a full night’s sleep. Do what it takes to take care of yourself,” your boss had said. Her tone displayed as much strictness as her eyes showed concern. Truth be told, you were too exhausted to even argue against her order. That’s when you knew. You really needed a rest. You dragged your body home.

“Hello sweetheart,” you greeted your pet bird, who chirped excitedly when you set foot into your apartment. “Guess what. I’m home early.”

As much as you wanted to drop into a slumber right away, your stomach growled. And you weren’t in the mood to wake up half-starved. As you prepared some left-overs from the fridge, you heard your bird call from the living room. “Peek-a-boo!” he sang. It caught your attention. He only played this game with you – when you were outside in your small garden and he was watching you through the window. So who exactly was he talking to, now?

You picked up a knife, because as a detective it was practically your job to be paranoid, and tiptoed into the living room. It would be harder for an intruder to spot you in the dark, so you pushed the light switch. Slowly, you advanced to the window and gently pulled the curtains aside. A shiver ran down your spine when you saw the figure standing between the trees. They didn’t seem to be hiding, if anything they were lazily resting their back against the garden fence. Maybe they weren’t aware you were watching them. Bold of them to assume they could intimidate you by acting so nonchalant. You cracked the window open slightly.

“If you don’t leave my property within the next ten seconds, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing,” you announced. The figure flinched. The moment he stepped into the moonlight and raised his arms, you remembered his face.

“Choi Chanhee?” You opened the terrasse door and stepped outside.

“Are you going to hurt me?” he asked, eyes glued to the knife in your hands. Quickly, you lowered your hand.

“What are you doing here?” you asked instead of answering his question.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he admitted.

“And so you thought creeping around in a police woman’s backyard was an appropriate thing to do? Wait…have you been stalking me?” you asked. You should have cut back on the sharp tone, but you felt half-asleep and this was the last thing you needed. Plus, the immanent realization hit you, that you had not noticed him at all. You had been so caught up in your work that you had not recognized a demon lingering around your home address, watching you. It hurt your pride a little – and could have ended very differently, had it been a more malovent demon than the one standing in front of you. This one looked terrified, kneading his hands nervously.

“I thought you wouldn’t be upset with me…that maybe you would understand. Because you’ve been the only one who’s listened to me. I’m just trying to find a purpose,” he said, “And my head tells me you’re the right direction.”

Demons. They’ve always had a fondness for the dramatic. But his words tore at your heart strings. His behavior resembled a child who had done wrong and was in the process of being scolded.

“Do you have no home?” you asked, softening your voice.

“I’ve lived with other demons. But they don’t want me there, anymore,” he said. For obvious reasons, you thought. Your head was racing. There was no way you could leave him standing there in the cold. But letting a demon into your home sounded like you must have had a death wish. It’s not like you didn’t have enough space, though. With an extra guest bedroom that nobody had ever used before, he would be just fine. There was no excuse. You cursed your parents for making you get a bigger apartment “In case you got married and had children soon.” You never know what could happen, they had said. And how wrong they had been, but how right they had been on that last part.

“Would you say you’re a tidy person?” you asked. A gigantic yawn came over you, and once again your stomach grumbled.

“What? I mean…I think so?” he said.

“Are you hungry?” You were in disbelief. Maybe it was the zombie in you that had a heart so soft, it took pity on a demon.

“I’m starving,” he said.

And that was how you came to have dinner with a demon. Spoiler alert: It wouldn’t be the last time. You ate quietly, trying hard to fight tiredness but it was no use. Afterwards, you showed him the room he could stay in.

“How do I make this up to you?” he asked.

“We’ll think about that another time, alright?” you said, “I need to sleep now. I’ve got an unsolved murder case waiting on me tomorrow.”

That night, you locked your bedroom door and slept with your gun on your nightstand. Just in case. Even though you were almost fully convinced the demon in the bedroom across the hall was more harmless than a five-year-old, he was still a demon.

~

When you woke up and saw your boss’ message on your phone, you couldn’t believe it. She wanted you to stay at home for the day. Apparently, you needed the rest and she had no interest in getting into trouble for overworking you (which she obviously wasn’t, you were the one doing this to yourself). When you walked down the stairs, you had almost forgotten about the previous night. It felt a little like it had all just been one wild fever dream – that was, until you spotted the demon sitting on your sofa, your pet bird on his shoulder.

“I let him out, I hope that was okay,” he said. You were dumbfounded. “Listen, I just wanted to say…thank you. Tell me whatever you need me to do and I’ll get it done for you.”

You wanted to go to work. But you knew he would be no help making that possible. Your mind was already wandering off to your case, the tips of your fingers burning with anticipation to search the internet for clues. Your grumbling belly interrupted your eagerness.

“Um…you could go to the grocery store for me?” you asked.

~

You went back to work the next day. Unsure of what to do, you decided to keep your demon housemate a secret for now. The other detectives would have probably written you off as insane, and you needed them to take you seriously. To be fair, maybe you were a little crazy. But he had been really good on the first day. Only one incident, which involved him dropping an egg on the kitchen floor, stood out to you. Of course, that could happen to anyone. But any other person would not have apologized in the way that he did. Normal people wouldn’t have acted so guilty, had it been an accident. But as long as his malice remained to that extent, you could live with it. You almost laughed at the idea of him purposely watching the egg roll off the counter and not doing anything.

He sure was strange. But little did you know, his egg-dropping shananigans were only the beginning of his uncontrollable little pranks he would pull on you.

Once he let your bird fly out the window. When you came home you discovered him outside, talking to your bird, begging him to come back inside. Little did he know, all it took was a whistle and a few treats and you had him sitting on your shoulder, ready to go back inside. One night you returned home to find him staring at the ceiling in the dining room, a kitchen towel in his hand. When you asked him what he was trying to achieve there, he told you there was a mosquito sitting above him.

“So, why don’t you kill it?” you asked. He looked shocked.

“Kill it?” he asked, “We should probably just shoo it outside.”

That’s when you knew. Choi Chanhee wouldn’t hurt a fly. Literally. All those times you had worried about leaving him home alone with your bird vanished in an instant as you laughed.

“You’re right. Killing is one of the worst sins. But sometimes, especially when it comes to mosquitoes, you don’t need to worry about any consequences. If anything, I’ll be grateful,” you assured him.

Another instance made you think maybe you had been too quick to judge him as harmless. When you walked into your bathroom in the morning, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you almost jumped out of your skin. A red substance stuck to your mirror in what seemed to be random shapes. On impulse, you called his name. On second look, you realized what he had done. The red was merely ketchup, and the random shapes weren’t so random, but they spelled “meeting at 2 pm”. When Chanhee appeared in the doorframe, he already wore his sorry expression.

“What did you think you were doing here?” you said. “You know where the post-it notes are!”

“I- He- The demon in me wanted to scare you…I’m so sorry,” he said. It was difficult to be mad at him when he was so sweet. You had, after all, told him to remind you of your meeting you had that day. He was so easy to forgive, too. Whenever he went to buy groceries, he returned with a bouquet of flowers, and after he had figured out your favorite candy, he made sure you never ran out of your supply. You liked being alone, but suddenly it felt nice to have someone waiting for you at home. A warm sensation filled your heart whenever he asked you about your day during dinner.

Even if after dinner you had to argue with him as if he was your son, because the demon in him had decided to take on the form of a teenage boy who was too lazy to take out the trash. You were still seated at the table, rolling your eyes at the demon’s horrible attempt at being evil.

“Don’t make me ask you one more time,” you threatened him, although you didn’t know what you would have done had he continued to argue against you. Only when he reached for the knife that he had already put down tidily on his plate, your eyes widened. His knuckles were white around the metal and you leaned back instinctively. Your gun was still in your belt – you had sat down for dinner straight after returning home – but you didn’t want to use it. Not on him.

“Chanhee,” you spoke in a calm tone. His face was unreadable. He wasn’t making eye contact. Instead, his gaze was glued onto the blade in his hand, staring blankly. His eyes blinked, almost robotically. Something changed in his demeanor then. There was a tremble in the hand that was clutching the knife. It grew more uneasy by each passing moment. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you kept your eyes trained on him, trusting your reflexes.

“Fine,” he suddenly said in a grumpy tone. Then he dropped the knife. The metallic sound rang in your ears for seconds afterward. You let out the breath you didn’t know you had been holding on to, as you watched him get up and retrieve the full trash bag from under the sink. You had been sleeping with your bedroom door unlocked for weeks. Even though it pained you, that night you locked your door again.

~

At 3:28 am you awoke to the sound of breaking glass. You allowed yourself to yawn and rub the sleep out of your eyes for just a moment, then you were on your feet. Gun in hand, you opened your door. Across the hall, the door to Chanhee’s room stood ajar. Light came from downstairs.

“Chanhee?” you called quietly. No answer. But your ears picked up shuffling and the sound of shards of glass being moved around. You approached slowly, trying not to give yourself away. Then you heard the quiet sobs. Your arm with the gun dropped to your side when you stepped into the kitchen.

He was sitting on the floor like he was one of the shattered pieces of glass himself. When he saw you, he flinched and tried to dry away his tears. But it was no use. They kept coming, and you had already seen them either way.

“I dropped it on purpose,” he said, referring to the broken glass. Another sob went through his body, making your chest ache at the sight of him. “I’m sorry.”

“I have nine more of those. It’s alright,” you assured him. Gently, you sat down by his side. You put your arms around his hunched frame. He stiffened at first but calmed his muscles after a moment and let you hold him.

“Shh, it’s okay,” you said. Whatever it was that was hurting him so much, you’d be here to fight it off for him.

“I can’t stop the evil in me,” he cried. His weeps seeped through your skin and tugged at your organs. It felt like a thousand tiny, sharp needles in your heart.

“It’s a part of you. It’ll never fully go away. But look at you, you’re doing such a good job holding it inside of you,” you whispered. He shuddered.

“I tried to kill you,” he stated. “I don’t deserve you. You’re so kind. You do all this for me, and I tried to kill you.”

“But you didn’t,” you said. “And that’s what counts. We all have urges inside of us…but it’s what we end up doing that truly counts and makes us who we are.”

“But it’s so hard,” he cried. His face was in the crook of your neck as he sniffled. The small teardrops that touched your skin felt like ice. “And all I do is bother you. I’m an inconvenience. Why don’t you just lock me up with the other demons? Why give me another chance every time I mess up?”

You couldn’t believe he would hate himself so much. Chanhee had more compassion than a lot of the humans you knew had. Some days he sat and pet your bird for hours just because it made him happy, he always had money on him to give to the homeless people in front of the grocery store and he almost cried thinking he forgot to pay for an item at the store (which you had obviously paid for).

“How could you even compare yourself to other demons?” you said. “If you want, I will take you in to work with me sometime. Then you’ll see the atrocities others commit. Even among humans, you’d still be sorted into the best of the best. I believe in you and that you will do good.”

He only sobbed harder at what you had said, and you felt the need to pull him in just a little tighter. You softly rocked your bodies in an attempt to calm him down.

“I would fall apart without you.” Between the hiccups and tears his words sounded like a broken confession, but that’s why they hit so hard.

“You’re not alone in this. I’m here for you,” you whispered, lips right by his ear. Your hands were in his hair, stroking his head as if you could pour all your emotions into this one gesture. What else could you do to show him you would never abandon him the way his demon people had? And it seemed to do the trick. His fists that had been clutching your shirt loosened up and his sorrowful crying turned into mellow breathing on your skin.

“Aren’t you sleepy?” you asked. “Let’s get you back to sleep. Tomorrow things will be better.”

“I haven’t been able to sleep well for three days,” he said. “But I need to clean this up first.”

He let go of you and started to pick up shards of glass. There was still a haggard expression on him, and his cheeks were painted red and tear stained. And yet he was determined.

“Let me do this,” you said, touching his arm. “You can’t even keep your eyes open. Go to bed, Chanhee.”

This time, he didn’t argue. But his good behavior didn’t stop the apologetic, almost battered look at you. He knew you would be by his side no matter what – but what he needed most was his own forgiveness. And you could tell by the way he spoke about himself that it would take a while until he was ready to accept himself as he was.

You heard his heavy steps on the stairs as he walked to his room. Quickly, you gathered the biggest shards of glass and then used a hand brush to collect the tiny pieces. This wasn’t what you had signed up for when you had taken him in. You thought you’d have to argue with him daily and that you’d miss having your personal space and privacy. You knew it would be new, living with another person after living alone for so long. But nothing could have prepared you for the way Chanhee had swept you off your feet with his adorable charms. You didn’t need to fake excitement when you came home to him, nor did you ever have to force yourself to tell him about your day or have any conversation with him, for that matter. He was truly enchanting with the way he made you care so much. Especially when you had assumed all demons were your sworn enemies.

When you finally dragged your tired body upstairs, you softly pushed open the door to his room, only to see him lying wide awake.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked. “Even though you’re so exhausted?”

“No,” he spoke. Even his voice made no attempt at hiding the sleepiness. His look was pleading. “Can you please stay with me…just for a little while?”

There was no way you could say no to his lovely gaze and messy hair and outstretched arms. So, you crawled in next to him under the covers. Your faces were inches apart. The last time you had been looking into a demon’s eyes this close-up he had been lying face-up and dead on the side of a road. Those eyes had been lifeless, and yet you felt like they had still held so much ferociousness, even in death. Now you only saw concern and genuine care in the black orbs across from you. You admired his softly sculpted face. It was one that seemed like it would much rather belong to an angel.

“You’ve been working so much,” he whispered. “You must be much more tired than me.”

“I’m used to it,” you said, “I enjoy my work because I’m doing it to help others.”

“You’re a good person,” he stated. There was something in his voice you couldn’t make out. Regret? Admiration?Maybe it was both.

“So are you, Chanhee,” you said. Without second thought, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his cheek. He didn’t flinch nor pull away. Instead, his pretty lips curled into a smile as he closed his eyes, ready to finally drift off to dreamland.

~

From that night on he seemed to improve a little, day by day. No more breaking things or having to argue about simple house chores. It occurred to you almost as if he had turned into something more human – so much that you dared to take him to work with you. People there had found the idea of your new demon friend strange, and you were sure some would take more than a little convincing to let down their guard around him. You couldn’t blame them for the prejudices – you had once been the same, after all. But Chanhee was okay with it, even when you had explained to him that some people might hate him, just because of his black eyes and what they meant to people. He had lived years of receiving that sort of treatment. Nonetheless, it pained you to think about how used he was to it. It took bravery and thick skin to walk into a police station the way he did that day. He was fascinated, looking behind the scenes. Perhaps you found it amusing how alarmed everyone was when they first laid eyes on him at the station. His ability to turn around their views of his species within twenty seconds or less was nothing but astonishing. He very willingly took it upon himself to walk down to the nearest coffee shop and order ten cups, also earning him the sympathy from the last few sceptics. When you were deep in conversation with another detective, discussing the possible whereabouts of a highly wanted demon, Chanhee suddenly interrupted you.

“I know an underground club where they like to go after…committing crimes,” he said. “Every demon in this city knows about it.”

At that moment you realized his full potential and what good he could really do. That was, if he was ready to sacrifice his people. But he just had – without even blinking. He could be an immense help to you.

“Young man I can see you have a bright future, should you ever decide to join the police force,” said your boss from across the room. Seemed like she had the same idea as you. Chanhee only smiled shyly but couldn’t hide the glint of pride in his eyes.

~

The following days you instantly made arrangements to get Chanhee an interview with the head of the station. He had been scared, at first.

“What if the other people there hate me?” he suspected.

“They might make assumptions about you in their heads, you know, because you’re a demon. They only know demons to be evil. But the moment they realize how good of a person you are, I promise they’ll change their mind,” you said. “You’ll be precious to us, and if you want to do good, the police is where you can be the most helpful. You’ll change lives, maybe even save people.”

“Yes, I want to help,” he said. “I’m done with my kind.”

“I’ll talk to my boss tomorrow,” you assured him. “If you’re too anxious to come in to the station, maybe she’ll allow you to work from home, from my office here. This is just a try, okay? If you really enjoy this work, you’ll have to learn and earn your badge.”

The way he looked at you filled you with so much pride. He seemed to have found some hope. Like he could finally spend his time in a productive and truly good manner. You couldn’t wait to see how he would do.

~

A tiring day and many discussions with higher-ups at workplace later, you returned at your home, late at always. Your fingers tingled with excitement and you wanted to yell for Chanhee the moment you walked through your door. You had managed to score an internship for him at your station. He was allowed to start as early as the following week. As you walked up the stairs, following the shuffling noise you heard, you imagined his face when you told him the news. You knew he’d be ecstatic. His smile would make you so happy, and you almost grinned at the mere thought of it. The noises were coming out of your office.

“Hi, Chanhee. Guess what my boss-,” you started. Then you fell speechless. Paper was scattered all over the floor. Drawers stood wide open. The orderly sorted piles of case files you had been working on were dispersed into every corner of the small room. Photos and pieces of paper were falling out of the folders. And in midst of it all stood Chanhee.

“Y/N- I’m so-,” he said, helpless.

“Don’t,” you said. Every ounce of excitement was gone from your voice, replaced by an ice cold tone you didn’t know you had in you. He flinched, but you couldn’t keep in what you had to say. “You’re impossible. I can’t fucking believe this! These are real cases, Chanhee! I’m trying to save real people here! This isn’t some broken mirror or a spilled cup of water. I can look past a shattered glass, but this is too much…I honestly thought you were getting better…”

Somewhere you knew you were being too harsh. But your job was your entire reason for existing. This was your life mission, laid out in front of you as if a hurricane had rampaged through the room. It would take days for you to rearrange the files. You weren’t even sure if you’d be able to find the correct places for each piece of paper.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking because he was about to cry.

“I don’t want to see you right now. Please get out. I need to clean this up and you can’t help me with this,” you said, trying hard not to scream out of frustration. Your eyes were already scanning the floor. You had no idea where to even start. With low-hanging shoulders and teary eyes that were threatening to spill over, Chanhee slipped past you. He granted you one more look before he scurried out of the office like a frightened animal.

Even though your stomach was grumbling from starvation and you could barely stay awake – as always – you needed to get some of the cleaning done. Now. Or you would go insane. Plus, you needed time away from Chanhee. While you collected the paper from every inch of the wooden floor, guilt slowly started to nag at you. You had never raised your voice at him to this extent. And he was sensitive. It wasn’t his fault, that’s what you always told him when he blamed himself for messing things up. He knew that. You cursed at yourself. How could you be so impulsive? All too well you knew how he felt about his demon half. You were supposed to be there for him, to tell him he was doing a good job and to make sure he didn’t beat himself up. Now you had achieved the complete opposite. A dull ache in your chest accompanied your hungry stomach.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. In a haze, you stepped down the stairs and to the door. You needed to apologize to Chanhee. When you opened the door, a delivery girl from your favorite restaurant stood there, handing you an order. You were puzzled.

“Already payed for,” she checked with a beaming smile, “Enjoy your meal!”

“Thank you,” you said, voice numb. Before you knew it, she had turned on her heel and was on the way back to the car.

“Chanhee! Your food is here,” you shouted, assuming he was the one who had made the order. You got no answer. When you set the bag down on the kitchen table, you saw a note, addressed to you.

Y/N,

Words can’t express how sorry I am about what I’ve done. All my life I only wanted someone to love me. In you, I thought I might have found what I had been searching for all this time. But I messed up. I always do. I drove you away from what we had. I’ve wondered why I always end up disappointing people. Now I know it’s because it’s the only thing I’m truly good at. You deserve someone you can trust blindly, someone who will walk through fire for you, someone who will take a bullet for you. I can’t give you that. I can’t even trust myself. Thank you for giving me a home and for being the most generous person I have ever met. You will always be in my sweet evil heart. Don’t worry about me too much. I will find my way and you will find yours. Who knows, our paths may cross again. I ordered your favorite food. I know you’re always starving when you get home from work. Enjoy it and don’t let it go cold. Make sure you get enough sleep tonight, and don’t forget to take your water bottle with you tomorrow, you left it here this morning.

I’ll hold you in my happiest thoughts forever,

Chanhee

You only snapped out of your motionless state when one single tear dropped down your cheek and onto the note. A heavy blanket of sorrow and regret sunk into your whole body. The emotions seeped through your skin and before you knew it, you were a sobbing mess on the kitchen floor. You wanted to take him in your arms and tell him you forgave him. Hell, you had forgiven him minutes after you had yelled at him. You should have gone to him then. Had you only apologized quickly enough, perhaps he’d still be here. Then he’d be eating dinner with you, and although you’d be frustrated, you both wouldn’t be alone.

Your tears fell into your food while you ate it, unable to control your sadness and frustration you had against yourself. They mixed with the shower water as you stood in silence under the hot stream, overthinking everything. Your pillow was wet from the crying as you struggled to fall asleep. Like a broken-hearted zombie you trudged across the hall and into his room. Chanhee’s covers still smelled like him and you hugged them tightly, as if you could hold a piece of him and bring him back that way. But there was nothing you could have done. He had left, and it was alone your fault.

~

The next day passed like a vivid fever dream. While you were sat in your meeting, you couldn’t possibly focus on the case your team was discussing. Instead, you pondered whether your makeup was able to conceal your puffy face and the dark circles under your eyes. If it was obvious, at least people didn’t seem to point it out. Maybe they were so used to seeing you tired that it would take a lot more than some tiredness and lack of concentration to arise concern. It was the first time in years you really wanted to go home after work. In fact, you couldn’t stand the laughter and good mood at the police station for one more second. All you wanted to do was scream and cry, and seeing people joke around without any idea about your feelings only intensified your desire. Of course, you could have confided in somebody. But you were afraid they would tell you Serves you right or I told you. You don’t think you’d be able to handle those blatant assumptions and the mocking.

Your plan for the night was set: You’d sit in the bathtub for half an hour, then you’d wrap yourself into a human burrito in a blanket and fill your brain with some brutal movie that would make your life seem like it was mere child’s play. But as most things in your life lately, nothing went as planned. Because after only five minutes in the hot tub, your phone rang on the other side of the room. The first time you ignored it. You really tried. But then it rang again, and you looked up to see the caller ID. It was your boss.

You groaned and quickly stood up, not giving up on the prospects of a peaceful night just yet. But then you heard her message – a break-in at a bank, one dead bank employee, five hostages, a possible shoot out. They were calling for back up. And when there was a chance to throw bad guys behind bars, the most inviting bath or an exciting movie suddenly turned dull.

Not fifteen minutes later you had jumped out the bath, gotten dressed in your uniform, taken your gun and ammunition, and were pulling up at the scene your boss had ordered you to. The bank was in the city center, close to the main square. The police team was stationed in a side street. Some of the team had already been sent to the front of the bank, where the police was attempting to make contact with the robbers.

“They’re holding four hostages in the back of the bank. One of them is at the front, right by the glass doors for us to see. The robbers have guns to their heads. If we come closer, they’ll shoot them,” your colleague informed you.

“Demons?” you asked. Against your will, Chanhee appeared in your mind. You wondered how he was doing. Was he hiding out in somebody else’s garden right now? Had he found a bed to sleep in? Then you quickly shook your head. This was not the time for heavy emotions of any kind.

“Yes. Five of them,” your colleague added. You huffed.

“What do they want us to do? Are they demanding anything?” you asked.

“They want us to let them leave with the money,” she said. You grinned bitterly and nodded.

“What about the back entrance?” you asked. You knew the layout of this bank and had been there multiple times in the past.

“That’s our route. Besides the one at the front, the other demons are inside the bank. The entrance isn’t guarded. A team of four will go to the back and try to sneak up on them. When we have a clear line of fire on all the robbers, we’ll take them out at the same time,” she explained.

“Alright,” you nodded, fixing your bulletproof vest around your upper body. You were ready for this. To others, missions like these would have been nerve-wrecking, and you would have been lying if you said you were completely calm. But the adrenaline was already rushing through your body, and fear was something you hadn’t felt since your very first operation.

“All ready?” your colleague asked the other two members of the team who would go into the bank. You received nods and professional expressions. You had all trained together and were used to functioning like one unit. Sticking close together, you rounded the bank, using a side street so the demons wouldn’t see you approaching. In your ear, the voice of your boss was giving orders and checking in on you. The street was dark and devoid of any life except for your team. Multiple of the surrounding streets had been evacuated and shut off to the public. The scene had something straight out of a heist movie. Except this time, the robbers weren’t going to pull of the perfect theft and get away. You would make sure of it.

“We’re almost there,” you said. “Twenty meters to the entrance. Awaiting permission to go inside.”

“You have permission,” your boss spoke over your earpiece. One last look at your teammates, and you were on the move. Sneaking inside soundlessly was easy. The backrooms were all empty. As you passed abandoned offices, you saw knocked over office equipment and paper scattered on the floors. Lamps had been left on and you heard the faint buzzing of a running computer that was most certainly unoccupied. Moving swiftly, you walked along the corridors, guns pointed ahead at all times. Your teamwork was untouchable. One of you made sure the path was clear, then the rest followed.

“You are one room away from the entry hall,” your boss said.

“Understood,” you answered and slowed down your steps. A cat wouldn’t have been able to walk more silently than you did. Now your ears picked up voices. Somebody was crying. There was shuffling of feet on marble.

“Shut up!” a male voice yelled. The crying faded out into muteness. In the dark, you could make out figures. A few countertops and a good distance separated you and your team from the demons and the hostages. You nodded to your colleagues and they understood. The four of you parted ways, moving into the room and taking shelter behind the bank counters. Once again, you checked the situation. Close to you, four hostages sat on the floor. A woman was still crying, and you could tell she was struggling to keep herself quiet. Around them, four demons stood, dressed in black. Their ski masks kept their faces hidden, but their body languages told you enough. They were not to be messed with. By the far entrance, the fifth demon was positioned with the remaining hostage, and you could spot the police cars outside in the town square. From behind your hiding spots, each of your teammates had a clear line of fire on the demons. The fifth one would be taken out from police outside the bank. You were just about to send a signal to your boss to let her know you were in position. Suddenly, the scraping of feet on the floor alarmed you.

“What was that?” one of the demons barked. The noise had come from your colleague beside you, who was now flinching. You had no time to think. No time to complain about her mistake. If you didn’t act now, they were going to close in on you.

You jumped up, pointing your gun at the closest demon. Right away, the remaining demons had their guns aimed at the hostages’ heads. Your colleagues had done as you, guns held towards the demons. Now you got a proper look at them. They were towering over the hostages, who were crouched on the floor in intimidation. The one in front of you only chuckled. Humans didn’t laugh like this. It was pure malice and recklessness displayed in front of you.

“I thought we told you to stay away,” he began. The only thing you could truly note about him was his mouth. The rest was covered by his mask and where the white of eyes should have been, two orbs of darkness sat, eying you like prey.

“Let the hostages go and we won’t shoot you,” you ordered, with a surprisingly calm voice.

“And why would we do that when we can just kill them?” he asked. His gaze momentarily focused on his fellow demons, as if he was a stand-up comedian and he had just delivered the funniest punch line.

“You will die if you harm even one of the hostages,” you stated.

“Oh, is that so? Humans never learn, do they?” he said. This monster was completely insane. And suicidal too, it seemed. “Go on, shoot.”

First, you thought he was urging your team to shoot. Then you realized, he was looking at the demon closest to you. The very demon you had your gun pointed at. He was asking the other demon to shoot at the hostages. You were preparing to pull the trigger.

But then your mind started racing. You stared at him intensely as your heartbeat quickened uncontrollably in your chest. The dark eyes. The soft lips. His skinny frame and gentle hands. You knew exactly who this demon was. You’d be able to pick him out of any crowd. What the hell was he doing here?

“Shoot!” the bigger demon shouted again, but Chanhee didn’t budge.

“I told you he was goddamn useless,” one of the others said. “Get rid of him.”

“You don’t deserve any of this money,” the bigger demon snarled, and his hand went to his belt. You knew there were human lives on the line. What you were about to do could be considered not only stupid, but wildly imprudent. Emotions were supposed to be left out of police operations. But how could you not have been blind with shock? You were going to let your heart control your body over your mind, and if it was deadly so be it. The bigger demon was now raising his arm at Chanhee.

Before you knew it, you had jumped out from behind the counter. You mirrored the demon’s actions and you pointed at him, pulling the trigger. At the same time, his gun went off. Just in time, you had pushed your body between the two demons.

“Y/N!” Chanhee shouted.

The bullet hit your shoulder and you fell backwards. Burning heat spread through your insides as you stumbled and reached for anything, anyone to hold on to. You could only think of Chanhee, and how your bullet had pierced through the big demon’s skull perfectly. Then, your colleagues opened the gunfire. The shots sounded almost muffled through the intense amount of adrenaline in your blood and the initial effect of being hit. Your body fell to the ground with a heavy thud, and a wave of agony spread through you. You grimaced at the excruciating pain, hands grasping at your shoulder. All you could see was white, before you sank onto your back and the world went dark.

~approximately 18 months later~

“Y/N,” Chanhee said, for the sixth time within the last ten minutes. You pressed your phone harder against your ear, holding it up with your shoulder. Your hands were too busy writing a police report on your laptop.

“Chanhee, I promise I’m writing the last few sentences already,” you assured him. He liked it when you came home early, leaving enough time to relax on the couch with him, instead of falling into bed like a corpse. Today, he was especially insistent, urging you to stay on the phone with him until you had finally packed up your things and left the police department. You guessed he was just trying to make sure you couldn’t stop somewhere along the way and start working on something new. And maybe that fear wasn’t so far off the truth.

“I’m done,” you said. “Status report: I’m switching off the laptop. Now I’m taking my bag. I’m getting up. I’m locking my office behind me. I’ll be home in twenty minutes or less.”

His laughter on the other side of the line made you smile. You couldn’t wait to see his face and get to hug him.

“Alright. I can’t wait,” he said. “I’ll see you.”

The walk home was calm. A soft breeze went through your hair and in the distance, you heard sirens of an ambulance. Promptly you were catapulted back to your memories and into the vehicle after you had been shot. Going in and out of consciousness, you kept repeating one name: Chanhee. When you woke up in the hospital bed, you half-expected him to be sitting there, waiting for you to wake up. But of course that was not the case. He had committed a crime – or at least tried to commit one. The prosecution was in his favor. They acknowledged his compliance with the police and his hesitation to hurt the hostage. Plus, he sold out the other demons and showed no resistance at any point. His regret and sorrow was apparent, nonetheless his mistake caused him 11 months in prison – by far less than the other robbers got.

People had called you insane for standing by him. Others thought you brave and newspapers named him the first good demon in the world. Every week you visited him in prison, often more than once. You made the most of your short time to talk, and with your kindest words you let him know that you were still here for him. Every visit you learned a bit more about how he had ended up in that bank.

After he had walked out on you, he had nowhere to go. So, after strolling the street mazes for days he found himself in the very demon night club he had once warned you about. Most unsavory figures twisted his mind into thinking doing good was no use. They made him believe he would never be able to escape the demon in him, and he might as well embrace the malice. They more or less pulled him along to the robbery, while he overthought the whole thing. It hurt you, seeing him cry as he recounted how scared he was when he saw the hostages. Some of them ended up injured, but all survived. You knew he would have never forgiven himself, had one of them died.

The day you picked him up from prison was a day you’d never forget. Holding each other in your arms felt so right, and you had missed it tremendously. His months at the prison hadn’t been easy, but you made sure he felt loved and cared for when he finally returned. He almost refused to believe that you would open your doors to him again. It was no question to you. You’d always be here for him. Even when he insisted you keep your office at home locked at all times. You trusted him almost a hundred percent by now. His demon only came out rarely, especially in times of stress or intense negative emotions. But you only treated him with kindness, and he gave back just as much of it.

“Chanhee I’m home!” you shouted as you entered your home.

“I’m up here,” he spoke. You ran up the stairs, excited to see him. Your eyes fell onto the open door of your office. For a moment, your heartbeat quickened as you approached it. You must have forgotten to lock the door that morning. Slowly, you pushed it open.

“Hello,” he grinned. You only chuckled as you watched him, sitting by your desk, a book in his hands. “I hope you don’t mind me being in here. This chair is so comfortable.”

“It’s all good,” you said. “Do you know what day it is today?”

“Umm…Friday?” he asked.

“It’s been exactly two years since you first started living here,” you said. “I think we should get some take out and celebrate, what do you say?”

“I can’t believe it’s been two years,” he said. “I’d love that. And you know what? I think I’m ready to start the internship at the police station.”

You smiled proudly. He had put his book down and was getting up.

“You’re going to do good things,” you said, wrapping your arms around him. He finally had found his place. His home. And you were never going to give up on him.

[naralanis]

little bumps in the road (pt. 13)

Previously on LBitR...

For the first time in quite a while, things seem to be going well.

It’s not even an exaggeration--the RV lab, though a little on the rudimentary side compared to all Lena is used to--is actually very well-equipped, and after only a few days of further research and a little tinkering, Lena finally feels confident to get things going.

She’s been eager to start working on this--she’s been desperately eager for it to work just how she knows it will.

Lena announced her plan to get started only a few days ago, and ever since then, Kara has been grinning like an idiot, following Lena around the small space of the RV and listening, completely enraptured, as Lena explains what they’ll be doing and how.

“So, how are we doing this?” Kara asks when Lena finally has everything in order, excitedly rolling up her sleeves to start the first session. She flops onto the pull-down cot as Lena connects different tubes and wires to the machine.

“Well, blood comes out one arm,” Lena explains, tapping the barely visible vein on Kara’s arm with her finger, “and then goes through this incredibly high-tech, extremely advanced Kryptonite filter--” Kara snorts “--and goes back into your other arm, hopefully Kryptonite-free.”

“Awesome!” Kara exclaims, only to crinkle her brows in confusion as Lena straps her arms down. “Wait a minute, I can’t use either arm?? Lena, I’m going to die of boredom!”

Lena shoots her a look as she tightens the left strap. Kara has the grace to look slightly apologetic. “Too soon for I’m-gonna-die jokes, gotcha.”

“It will always be too soon for I’m-gonna-die jokes,” Lena mutters, thoroughly unamused. “And anyway, you’ll survive sitting still for two hours at a time,” she continues, pressing a button on a hidden panel on the RV wall. “There’s TV.”

Kara lets out an actual squeal of happiness when the monitor pops out of the wall, at the perfect angle for her to lie back and watch—Alex had the forethought of adding a hard-drive full of Disney movies so Kara would be entertained during the filtration process. She knew her sister well.

The main problem with the filtration device was that the machine itself could only run for a couple of hours at a time, meaning several sessions would be required for Kara’s blood to be well and truly Kryptonite-free. Lena assumes this is why Alex had given them this mobile lab—they couldn’t afford to stay in one place for too long. This way, Kara could lie back and let the machine do the work, and Lena do the driving, if required, though Lena herself would much rather keep things stationary when messing with needles.

They settle on a routine, more or less. The RV is mostly self-sufficient with its discreetly enhanced solar panels and a full water tank; if they’re fully gassed up, they can stay off the grid much longer than they could with the Jeep. This reduces their stays in small towns and roadside motels to the bare-minimum (meaning, whenever Lena complains enough that they absolutely need to do laundry or when they have another checkpoint call with Alex).

Lena doesn’t mind—she’s almost enjoying these secluded spots they’ve been finding along the way; so empty and desolate it is like they are practically untouched by civilization. It’s almost peaceful, with Kara snoring while she dozes watching Hercules for the fourth time (she even convinced Lena to join her on the cot one time so they could watch together) and the filtration device beeping and whirring rhythmically.

The amount of Kryptonite being collected each time is minimal—a dusting of microscopic green each time, barely enough to be seen with the naked eye. The progress is slower than Lena would like, but they’re progressing steadily enough considering their circumstances, and she tells Alex as much during their next call.

They’re all the way in Illinois, and the weather is beginning to turn. Lena holds onto her green flannel as a gust of wind chills her, seeking refuge into the cabin of the payphone.

It’s all done by rote, now—Lena’s been the one calling Alex more and more often now, giving updates to Kara’s condition, and occasionally dealing with Alex’s barely contained frustration at the crawling speeds it goes by.

Lena dials, and waits for the requisite two rings. The ‘hello, yes,’ is always said gruffly, but Lena can usually tell there’s undeniable relief in Alex’s tone.

“Twenty-one, Illinois,” Lena says. “Progressing as usual.”

“Good.”

“We’ll be at the next one by Tuesday.”

“Good.” Dial tone.

And so it goes. It becomes… comfortable, in a way, to have clear goals and tasks to accomplish. Tracking the Kryptonite collected each day, analysing Kara’s blood, checking in with Alex—all of it gives Lena something to focus on, and she takes it gladly.

Even when Kara gets a little cranky after being strapped in for too long.

“Leeeenaaa…” she will occasionally whine. “Leeeeenaaaaa.”

Lena has to hold back her sigh, and look over from her calculations—she’s trying to see how long it will take to cleanse Kara’s system, and it’s taking annoyingly long. “What is it this time?”

“I’m hungry.” Kara pouts.

Lena raises a brow, glancing at her watch—a brand new one Kara won at a bar back in Arkansas that, inexplicably, featured a claw-machine. The watch is bright yellow and has a picture of Tweedy Bird on the face—it’s atrociously hideous. “You just ate two hours ago.”

“And I’ve been here for a whole hour!” Kara points out through her pout. “It’s important to eat every three hours, don’t ya know?”

Lena can’t help rolling her eyes. “Well, can’t you wait another hour?”

Kara’s stomach, growling loud enough to be heard above the gentle humming of the machine, seems to disagree, and that’s how Lena ends up sitting on the cot, squished against Kara, hand-feeding her individual Pringles chips.

Lena eyes the can with disgust. “Pizza-flavoured? I didn’t even know this was a thing.”

Kara nods, munching happily. “It’s delicious! Try one.”

“I think I’ll pass,” Lena quips, brushing some Pringle-dust from where it’s gathering on Kara’s shirt. “You know these are not even real potatoes, right? They’re like. Potato dust.”

“Marvelously delicious potato dust.”

It’s like that, day in, day out. Lena isn’t really complaining—oddly enough, this is the most normal things have felt between them since… well, since everything, and right now she’s not too worried about looking a gift horse in the mouth.

They’re in Maine the next time they have to check-in, and all things considered, everything is going swimmingly. Lena had looked at a fresh sample of Kara’s blood just last night, and there are fewer and fewer traces of Kryptonite in her system, which is incredible news. Her powers seem to be returning, as well, little by little. There’s no super-strength or invulnerability yet, but two nights ago, Kara had been hovering in her sleep. So, all in all, things are looking up.

Kara’s finishing up a session in the parked RV when Lena goes to call this time, bundled up in a jacket they acquired two towns over—it’s beginning to get really cold, really fast. They parked a few blocks away from the nearest payphone, and it’s on the way there that Lena feels something is off.

Always trust your gut.

She pulls her baseball cap over her eyes and puts her hands deep in her pockets as she idly looks around—there are a few shops open in town, and she uses their bright storefronts as an excuse to linger and examine her surroundings. Lena’s almost to the payphone when she spots him.

On the street corner, leaning against a building, lighting a cigarette.

Lena can’t decide whether to run back to Kara or to the payphone, to tell Alex they’ve been spotted. The man hasn’t looked at her yet, but Lena has no doubt in her mind—it’s the same man she had seen in Texas, the one she thought had been watching them.

She practically sprints to the phone—she’s so, so close. The man doesn’t seem to notice her as she scrambles with the chord and punches in Alex’s number, but he turns his head just as she hears Alex’s voice through the receiver after the first ring, and Lena feels her heart in her throat. Their eyes meet, and he smiles, slow and dangerous.

“This is Danvers. Hello?”

Lena drops the phone—it bounces and dangles from the chord, hitting the booth walls with a deafening clatter—when she looks up again, the man is gone.

  Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

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[eldritch-araneae]

Sparkpulse IV: Sleeping Beast Within.

Summery:

Bumblebee and Cheetor are chilling together on a nice quiet evening :3

It’s a nice and calm evening today. No Decepticons activities. Bumblebee and Cheetor are relaxing on a random ledge above the cafeteria, watching everyone chilling with their energon. Cheetor is currently in their spotted ray-cheetah alt form, laying with their limbs tucked underneath the body. A position which everyone lovingly calls a “loaf form”. Bumblebee is beside his feline friend, pressing onto their side and mimicking the same position.

Both Special Operations agents were talking about random stuff, from patrol and mission discussions to random shenanigans that happened to other Autobots. Life is never boring in their department, even during the night, considering a lot of agents are nocturnal cybertronians, including Bumblebee himself.

Bumblebee slightly nudges Cheetor to make them look at him. Cheetor is hard-of-hearing, and their hearing can vary from moderate to severe. They have hearing aids, but sometimes they are not much help. So everyone quickly learned that they must make sure that Cheetor sees them before talking to make lip-reading and signing easier.

“How was your patrol, by the way?” Bumblebee asks his diurnal friend.“Did you find any interesting stuff among the ruins?”

“Nope, whatever was in that building eroded long ago.” Cheetor sighs, but then grins a second later. “I still can’t believe you found that super old board game intact!” they exclaimed, lightly bumping the minibot with their nose.

Bumblebee giggles at the display of affection. He loves little things like this. He bumps Cheetor back with his forehead. “I know right! It was in such good condition that even acid rain and stuff didn’t eat it.”

At that moment, Jazz enters the room and as he sees the pair of “cats” on the ledge above, he bursts into laughter.

“I must admit, Cheetor, I never expected you to teach our youngest member the way of the cat!” the head of Special Operations Department chortles, “Bumblebee, please be honest! Can you purr already?”

Cheetor wheezes at Jazz’s question, while Bumblebee grins widely.

“Well, I tried, but apparently I can only growl.” the minibot answers with all his honesty. “It doesn’t feel like I am supposed to be a feline.”

“Well, it doesn’t stop you from being a cat anyway!” Jazz grins, gesturing at Bumblebee’s current “loaf” position. Cheetor wheezes, making a sound like a kettle from Wheeljack’s lab. That caused all three to burst into laughter. After that, they exchanged a few words before Jazz went to grab his energon cube. The minibot and the beastformer keep chilling on the ledge, observing everyone below them.

Imitation is an interesting thing indeed. It’s a natural process that allows a living being to fit better in their social environment.

It’s not like Cheetor was teaching Bumblebee feline behavior on purpose. It just happened because the minibot spent a lot of time with them and other Autobot felines after he made amends with Steeljaw.

Bumblebee adopted some cat mannerisms. This is when his beast protocols surfaced. Both Perceptor and Botanica are absolutely sure the minibot was bound to be a beastformer, but lack of resources forced him to take a vehicle-type alt form. This leaves a lot of questions, but it’s not possible to answer them for now.

Still, this explains a lot of things: his quadrupedal mode could be an attempt of his body to compensate for the lack of beast-type alt form. Or how he feels like he’s missing some parts, like additional limbs.

Bumblebee is sure he’s supposed to have wings! Every time he swings with his cables, the overwhelming nostalgia makes his spark ache and his back feels abnormally light. After a while, this feeling grew into an itch, and just swinging around the stronghold wouldn’t satisfy it anymore.

Windblade could see the pained look on his face, so she indulged him and took him skydiving. Just flying up with her already feels so much better. And the moment Windblade turns off her engines and they start falling is pure joy, making him tear up every time.

The wind rushing past him, the feeling of flying, the stimulant rush. Bumblebee forgets about all his insecurities and worries, feeling that he belongs in the sky.

This is the closest to flying he ever got, or will ever get, as sad as it sounds.

Bumblebee shakes his head. There is no reason to wallow about things he can’t have, he has to work with what he’s given. That’s why he can’t wait for Windblade to come back from her mission, so they can go skydiving again.

The anticipation quickly fades as the door opens to the cafeteria, revealing Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker going in. The minibot tenses upon seeing them. Those two are not buddies, not at all.

“Bee, are you okay? Your optics have slits.” Cheetor’s voice pulls Bumblebee’s attention to themself. Pupils turning into slits, another feature of a beastformer, that happens when one is angry, exposed to light, or in alt mode.

“I’m okay, it’s just... well him.” He hisses at Sunstreaker below, who seems like he didn’t realize that Bumblebee is in the room too. “I still don’t know what I did to him to receive such treatment.”

“He’s always been such a slaghead as long as I remember.” Cheetor sighs. “But it’s undeniable that he’s really out there to get you for no reason. Don’t worry, I will eat his shins if he tries to do anything to you!”

Bumblebee smiles at support. He really appreciates it. Though this smile fades quickly because the problem is still there and he does not know what to do with this.

Sunstreaker hates the minibot for unknown reasons and will grab any chance to harass him. Thankfully, his friends, especially Windblade, made it crystal clear that if he hurt Bumblebee, Sunstreaker won’t come out in one piece.

Still, Bumblebee feels that animosity directed at him from the yellow gladiator’s spark.

That’s just so unfair that it hurts!

Thankfully, before Bumblebee could start fully seething about this, Blaster, with his cassettes, entered the cafeteria. Cheetor greets the fellow Special Ops members, which pulls the minibot out of the spiral of negative emotions.

Suddenly, the optics of Bumblebee, Cheetor, Steeljaw and Nightstalker are locked onto each other. For a few seconds, they stared. Everyone who noticed this stopped doing what they were doing because they knew what would happen next.

Who will run first?

Who will start the game?

The next second, Nightstalker bolts from the spot they were standing into the stronghold corridors. Steeljaw jumps after them, followed by Bumblebee and Cheetor jumping from the ledge.

The chase has begun, leaving laughing bots in the cafeteria behind!

The stomping is so intense that someone might think it’s Dinobots, not three cats and Bumblebee running through corridors. He never said it out loud, but those games helped him to be more confident with his quadrupedal mode, making him even more agile.

After a few more turns of running, Steeljaw catches Nightstalker. Now it’s their turn to be chased. He turns around and runs in the opposite direction, into the medical wing.

A medbay door opens, and Ratchet almost got thrown on the floor if he didn’t see Steeljaw coming. With a yelp, he quickly jumps back into the room, and the rest of the group runs by him. He can only shake his head as he foresees someone getting hurt. But he cannot deny that cats need to get their zoomies out... though he still can’t believe they dragged Bumblebee into their games.

The three beastformers and the minibot keep running until Bumblebee finally catches Steeljaw.

“You’ll never catch me!” the minibot proclaims, as he takes an instant sharp turn and starts running at full speed.

“Hey!” Cheetor yelps, not expecting such a fast reaction from the minibot. Being the fastest quadrupedal out of Autobots, they quickly catch up with the minibot, almost being within their reach.

Bumblebee feels ‌Cheetor is getting close to him and takes another unexpected turn to avoid being caught. But surprises won’t end here.

Just ahead of him, the door opens and Optimus Prime steps into the corridor. Bumblebee sees it too late and slams into his leg at full speed. Optimus loses balance and falls onto his back. Cheetor, who was right behind Bumblebee, couldn’t stop in time and stepped all over their leader, including his face, before sliding into the wall. Steeljaw and Nightstalker, who were much farther behind, heard the commotion and slowed down, only slightly bumping into Optimus.

“What happened?! Are you okay, Optimus?” Prowl rushed from the same room to help his friend sit up.

“I am alright.” Optimus reassures the second in command and looks at the yellow culprit, who is laughing on the floor right.

“I’m sorry, Prime! I didn’t see you!” Bumblebee somehow utters the apology between laughs. He was so focused on getting away from Cheetor on his tail that he didn’t even pay attention to what was in front of him.

“I’m sorry too, for stepping on you!” Cheetor, who is giggling, apologizes next. “Looks like we got carried away.”

This earned a fit of giggles from everyone. Bumblebee’s laugh is simply contagious. No one can resist, not even serious bots like Prowl.

“This was bound to happen, I feel. Though, I wouldn’t expect Bumblebee to be the one throwing me off my feet.” Optimus chuckles. He turns to Bumblebee, who, despite the laughing fit, is cradling his left arm. “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay!” Bumblebee exclaims, trying to throw his arms up, but his left arm quickly responds with pain from sharp movement. “Ow, ow, ow!” he grimaces. “Okay, maybe I’m not. Looks like I dislocated my shoulder or something.” he corrected with a giggle. Sure, it hurts, but this entire situation is too amusing to him to focus on the pain.

“Oh no!” Cheetor feels bad for their friend. “I will make sure he’ll make it to medbay!”

“Good. So what did we learn today?” Prowl asks the youngest member of Autobots.

“I learned that if I slam into Prime’s leg hard enough --” he didn’t even finish as everyone erupted into laughs again.

After everyone calmed down, Cheetor with the cassettes helped Bumblebee to get to the medbay.

When they entered Ratchet’s domain, the medic already could guess what happened. But he would never guess who fell victim to their shenanigans this time.

“Let me get this straight.” Ratchet slightly pinches the bridge of his nose.” You, Bumblebee, tripped Optimus Prime? And damaged your left arm in the process?”

The only answer he received was another row of laughter from beastformers, which served as confirmation.

“Aright. Bumblebee, you get into the berth, and your three are out.” Ratchet said. The minibot nodded to his playmates, and they went back to their game, chasing after Cheetor.

Then he walks over to the berth. Ratchet helps him to get on it with his magnetokinesis, before proceeding to inspect the injury. The medic carefully popped Bumblebee’s shoulder into the socket. The pain is lifted.

“Thanks, Ratchet.” Bumblebee says sheepishly.

“You should be more careful with their games. You are not as durable as they are, Bumblebee, and they tend to play rough.” Ratchet grumbles.

“C’mon, they never hurt me, and it’s fun!” Bumblebee protests. He doesn’t like to be reminded of his condition, though he knows this comes out of concern. “Alright, alright I will.”

Ratchet nods, satisfied with the answer. “Hold still, I will check if your arm sustained any more injuries.”

Bumblebee decided to check radio channels as he waited. Maybe he can hear if Windblade is coming back soon. After swapping multiple channels, Bumblebee stumbled upon a strange signal.

The signal is transmitted through a channel that he never saw before. As if it was turned off until someone began using it recently. And the signal itself is something he never heard Autobots or Decepticons using. It sounded like a series of beeps, short and long.

“Is something wrong?” Ratchet asks, noticing the minibot’s confused expression. Bumblebee opens the radio channel with the medic, letting him listen to that signal.

“Did you hear something like this before?” he asks the medic. He’s one of the eldest Autobots. Surely he heard something like this, right?

But Ratchet is confused as much as Bumblebee, “I do not know. We should notify the High Command about this. Who knows if Decepticreeps invented another way of secret communication… after I finish with your arm.”

The minibot nods and continues listening to the signal. He can’t help but feel it seems oddly familiar to him. After multiple passes, Bumblebee notices it has a specific pattern that looks like this:

... .... .- -.. --- .-- .-.. ..- .-. -.- . .-. --..-- / .-- . / -. . . -.. / - --- / - .- .-.. -.- .-.-.-

After he got the pattern, much to Bumblebee’s surprise, his system recognized it and began deciphering. When he saw the meaning of the message, his spark almost jumped out of his chest.

“WHAT?!”

[allygodot]

Taking Accountability

My name is Adam, but people online call me Coffee. I’m a 27 years old graduate of Chicago Law School living in Green Bay, Wisconsin. I am a heterosexual Christian, but am an ally to the LGBT community. My main interests are Ace Attorney, Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, and My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. These are all things my followers should know about me, so why am I telling you this? Well... what if I told you it was all a lie? I’m sure this is coming as a shock to a lot of you, and I sincerely apologize to everyone I’ve hurt with my deception. It is my hope that this post will clear up any misconceptions that have been spread about me, whether I spread them myself or otherwise, and that in the future there will be no animosity between us. I don’t expect to be forgiven nor do I deserve it, but if there is one thing I learned from my time in the church it is that all I can do is ask for mercy and hope for the best. But first... I think an explanation is in order. If all that isn’t the truth, then what is? It all starts in college, that nebulous period of my life that everyone keeps asking about and I keep bringing up. Before I went to university, I had always been completely unremarkable. I had always had the kind of fair weather friends who enjoyed my company, but never felt to invested in me. Combined with my status as a middle child, I always felt like I had something to prove to get people to like me. I would say and think whatever I needed to for them to stick around another day, and I’m sure you are familiar with what that means for teenage boys. I acted immaturely because it was what was expected... and anything outside of that was looked down upon it even forbidden. I never thought much of it at the time, but I realize now that I wasn’t allowed much self-expression when I was always trying to conform to their standards. Everything changed when I met him. My assigned college roommate, Anton, was everything my years of conditioning had taught me to distrust. Despite his tall stature, he was emotional and sensitive... even vulnerable. Even so, he wasn’t afraid to be unabashedly himself. The first thing that struck me as unusual about him was his clothing... he almost always wore pastel pink or yellow and I hardly ever saw him without his long, checkered scarf. His nails were always painted with a clear, glittery polish, and I don’t think he ever skipped a shower in his life. His hair was always soft and smelled like strawberry even at a distance... all this to say he immediately struck me as fruity so I wanted nothing to do with him, at least initially. Despite his kindness to me, I would always respond with either the cold shoulder or open scorn, which only amplified the more I learned about him. I discovered pretty quickly that he was a furry, since one day I came home from a day of classes to find a decapitated pink cat head on our couch. He patiently explained the whole culture to me while I glared at him skeptically, but he didn’t seem bothered at all. He even brought out his paws and tail and told me he was saving up for a full suit despite my open disgust. Looking back, I still have no clue why he put up with me during that time. Another curious aspect of Anton’s life was his addiction to a certain television series called “My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.” His room was filled with merchandise from stuffed animals to figurines, and I had nothing but disdain for the tacky and embarrassing decoration. I was afraid that if I ever brought a girl over to our apartment she would notice and make all sorts of incorrect assumptions... I couldn’t handle the embarrassment. I tried on multiple occasions to convince him to hide them in a secret box or something, but he always just smiled and shook his head. I even tried to sneak into his room and collect all the ponies for donation once, but he had anticipated this and hid a playful trap for me... I reached forward to grab one of his overpriced statues and immediately got a face full of multi-colored snakes. I was livid of course, despite it being my own fault for trying to pawn of his collection in the first place, but he wasn’t even phased by my tirade. I suppose he was 6’5” and I was (and still am) only 5′7″... but still, I had at least expected him to be somewhat apologetic if not fearful. Instead, he just laughed and told me I should watch the show with him sometime. I obviously had no intentions of taking him up on his ludicrous offer... until he promised that if I didn’t enjoy the show, he would move all of his ponies into a case that he would throw a big curtain on whenever I said the word. I reluctantly agreed on those conditions, positive that this was a bet I couldn’t lose. I still remember that night like it was yesterday. He lead me into the pony chamber and sat down on his bed, taking out his laptop to pull up his favorite episode. It was “The Canterlot Wedding” two part season finale, and although I initially protested that I only agreed to watch one episode, I eventually relented once he reminded me what the prize was. I was hesitant to sit beside him on his bed and lean over his shoulder to look at the small screen, but he assured me that it didn’t bother him at all. I wasn’t particularly concerned with how he felt about it... it was more so my own pride I was worried about. Nevertheless, I sat through the whole episode with him despite myself. Although I was disturbed by the tendency for his long and curly hair to gravitate into my mouth while I rested my cheek against his shoulder, I found the episode to be surprisingly enjoyable. The song in particular surprised me with it’s musicality... by the end of it I didn’t want to leave, but I was far too embarrassed to admit that to him earnestly. I told him I was interested in the show purely for the songs and that it could benefit my studies as a music major, but that he still had to uphold his end of the bargain since I was by no means enjoying it. He just smiled and put on another episode, and before I knew it the sun was rising outside his window. I realized just how tired I was and turned to tell him I would be going to bed only to discover he had fallen asleep. I began to suspect that he must have been asleep for several hours, letting the auto-play functionality do his job for him while he rested up for his exams. Although I was scandalized, I was impressed by his tactical prowess... he had managed to trap me in his room, since I couldn’t move from my spot without disturbing his slumber, and he didn’t even have to be awake to do it. Begrudgingly, I spent the rest of his room, until eventually the faint aroma of strawberries lured me into the world of dreams... This arrangement continued for quite some time. When I got home from my classes, Anton would ask me if I wanted to watch some My Little Pony with him and I only agreed so long as he put the curtain over the cabinet next time I asked. He always obliged whenever I asked him to conceal his collection, but eventually I stopped asking for him to do so and only reminded him not to break our contract before every episode out of habit. It became a ritual for the two of us to do this every night, and even once we had finished all of the episodes we would just watch them again. I found that I was becoming endeared to this eccentric man... and as much as I tried to resist it, I couldn’t help but feel my heart swell a bit in my chest whenever he would run his fingers through his hair or tighten his scarf around his neck. I told myself it was nothing... but it wouldn’t remain that way for long. I don’t know what possessed me, but one night I thought I would get to know Anton a little better. I started by asking if he was single, which to me seemed like an innocuous question, but the very fact I was asking seemed to amuse him. He told me that he was having trouble finding a guy who wasn’t immediately turned off by all the ponies, and I made sure to snidely comment that he shouldn’t be going out with guys anyway even though it made my heart skip a beat when he said that, as well as mention that if he would just give up his collection there wouldn’t be an issue in the first place. I don’t know what I was expecting, but he asked me the same thing: how was my love life going, especially considering my new hobby? I couldn’t help but get flustered and start making excuses. I told him that there was no shortage of girls lined up to date me, but that I just wasn’t ready to make a commitment yet. I spun a whole story about how a girlfriend would only hold me back... I almost forgot that the standard that Anton accepted was completely different from my old teenage friends. He wasn’t impressed that girls were apparently lining up to get a piece of me... he just seemed amused that I thought such a thing was realistic, much less desirable. He didn’t understand that compulsive need to lie at all... he thought it would be better if more guys admitted that they were vulnerable. That was the first time I’d ever heard someone say something like that... I suddenly felt extremely exposed, and before I knew it my eyes were full of tears. My first instinct was to cover my face with my sleeve and hide my shame, but he was already firmly gripping my arm and holding it in place. He told me that I didn’t need to hide anything from him. He asked me if there was anything he could do to help me... and so for what felt like the first time in my life, I told the truth. It was supposed to be just to try it. I wasn’t expecting to actually enjoy it, I just thought that if I got it out of my system all of the unnecessary feelings would finally stop tormenting me... but all they did was grow stronger. I kept telling him that I was still looking for a girlfriend and that once I got one this whole arrangement would end, but eventually I realized that there was no point in lying to myself anymore. I wasn’t ever even sleeping in my own room anymore. I hadn’t so much as glanced at any dating websites in weeks. I was committed, whether I wanted to admit it or not... and I didn’t want to admit it. I only wish that I had told him how I really felt when I had the chance... One of the many things we started to share, which seemed the most inconsequential to me at the time, was a webpage. Anton was the owner of a small subreddit dedicated to My Little Pony fursuits, and he asked me if I would be willing to help him moderate. It wasn’t something I felt qualified to speak as an authority on, since even as I became more open about my love for ponies I still didn’t really feel connected to furry culture despite accompanying him to several conventions, but I was willing to do basically anything just to please him. My job was mostly to stop people from publicly “yiffing,” and although it was a grueling line of work it wasn’t thankless. Anton was a poet with words of affirmation. Many of the compliments he paid me were certainly undeserved, but they motivated me more than anything else ever had... but I got too zealous. There was a certain user on the server who for the sake of protecting privacy, we shall call XxLesbianRainbowDash69xX. As a member of the subreddit they were of course a brony and a furry, but what made them stand out was their dedication to the Flutterdash ship. They were constantly posting couple’s cosplays of themselves dressed as Rainbow Dash, but the Fluttershy in each picture was always different. They were also exceptionally sociable and aggressively tried to make friends with everyone on the tiny subreddit... Anton and I included. I wasn’t so keen on pursuing another friendship that could very well ruin my reputation, but of course Anton was immediately taken with the idea. The two of them exchanged contacts and hit it off instantly, and I started having trouble sleeping at night because he was awake in the early hours of the morning texting his friend in another timezone. He always paid me just as much attention as always during the daytime, but once he saw that his new friend was online he would crawl out of bed to go converse with them in another room. He was trying so hard to be considerate of me, and perhaps it was selfish for me to expect that I would always be able to sense his warmth and scent beside me while I slept... but at the time I was blinded by jealousy. One fateful morning, he excitedly woke me up to tell me that XxLesbianRainbowDash69xX had gifted him tickets to a major convention, and that the two of them were planning to cosplay Flutterdash together. He apologetically explained that he would be gone for a few days since the convention was halfway across the country, but sensing the disturbance within me he assured me that he could probably convince his friend to let me tag along as Applejack... she was always my least favorite. It didn’t matter what Anton said to encourage me, because I was never going to accept any consolation until this threat to our sacred relationship was eliminated. I had to find a way to get rid of XxLesbianRainbowDash69xX by any means necessary... In a fit of rage, I whipped out the ban hammer and beat my rival to death with it, metaphorically speaking. It was a blatant abuse of my privilege as a moderator and I am ashamed to admit it now... but at the time all that mattered was covering up the evidence. I knew I had to come up with an excuse for why I had banned them, so I added a new rule to the subreddit: Flutterdash was prohibited. The news was not met with acceptance from the other members of the community. To some more in the loop with the situation, it was obvious that I had only banned XxLesbianRainbowDash69xX because of a petty personal dispute, but others saw it as nothing but an unfair rule. I was accused of being biased towards other ships like Flutterchord or Appledash and that I needed to accept other people’s ship preferences, or even that I was homophobic and couldn’t handle the thought of lesbian characters in my favorite show. Chants of “mods are gay” could be heard across the subreddit from all sides of the debate, and everyone was rallying for Anton to remove me as a tyrannical moderator. Sound familiar? I can’t help but notice some similarities between my situation and Mo the one over at Kristahlia Week... maybe that is why the drama captivated me so.  Anton tried to reason with me, bless his heart, but at this point I had completely devolved back into my screaming teenager mentality to cope with all the rejection. He was obviously disappointed in me for what I had done but he had no reason to believe it would ruin us... he couldn’t have handled it better. It really was my fault that things happened the way they did, but I refused to take accountability. What I told him still haunts my conscience to this day, even six years later. I told him that I never loved him, and that I was only using his companionship to fulfill my carnal desires. I told him that I didn’t care about what he did with his life as long as he didn’t do anything that kept him away from me. I even told him that I still thought he was disgusting and embarrassing. And the worst thing is... in that moment I meant every word. I was so selfish... I genuinely forgot that I loved him and treated him like he only existed to serve me. My actions were truly despicable and I deserved to suffer for it... and I did. For the first time, I saw Anton cry. I should have been there to comfort him like he did for me on that fateful night, but instead I let him run out of the house to go suffer by himself. By the time I realized how horrible I was acting, it was too late. He had disappeared into the night, never to be seen again. I came home the next day to discover all the ponies in the apartment finally gone... isn’t that what I had wanted? My moderator status on the subreddit had been stripped away, and I had been banned by all of the members of the group on nearly every social media platform. Another classmate later informed me that Anton had transferred to a different college... and that was the end. I have no idea what happened to him after that, but I can only hope he is doing well. Instead of taking this as an omen that I should improve my behavior, I began to become even more bitter than I was before I met Anton. I acted like my relationship with him was just an experimental phase that was doomed to fail from the start, and soon I was denying that it ever even happened at all. I convinced myself that the problem in our relationship was that I wasn’t supposed to be with men, and so I began to insist that I was straight and aggressively seek out relationships with women just to prove it to myself. I also started searching for strict moral codes that could give direction to my life... which is when I found the Church. I was attracted to their beliefs because they gave a very clear outline for how someone’s life should go and promised ultimate happiness to anyone who could fulfill the requirements, so I began to obsess over meeting those requirements. I wanted a Christian wife that could bear me many children not because that is how I wanted to live my life, but because that is how other people wanted me to live my life... and all I wanted was for others to tell me I was doing something right. The congregation was distrusting if me at first, and although they never said it to my face I know it was because they were aware of my past. Hardly a woman would come near me, and looking back on it I can’t say I blame them. The ones who were desperate enough for a husband to give me a shot were quirky repulsed by my egotistical behavior, which certainly didn’t help my reputation. Throughout all this, I still somehow told myself I was the victim because I didn’t want to admit that I had become the villain again. For a long time, the only person in the parish who would willingly hold a conversation with me was Lana. She was a fellow member of the choir and a devout believer in God, but she was often judged by the rest of the congregation for being an open lesbian despite her faith. She tried to convince me on several occasions that I didn’t have to perform any sort of identity to impress anyone and that I should “just be myself,” but I insisted that I knew what I was talking about. Eventually, she decided my well-being wasn’t her responsibility and gave up on trying to reason with me, but nonetheless she still treated me more kindly then many of the other churchgoers. I believe that my “dark past” is what drew Gabriella to me in the first place. She likely hoped that we could act as covers for each other until she figured some way out of her situation, but unfortunately I was too far gone to be of any help. I convinced myself that she was really in love with me and that she would be walking down the aisle soon enough. Whether or not I was really interested in her or just interested in what she represented I’m still not sure... but she truly was a wonderful person who didn’t deserve to have to suffer through my baggage. When she left me I was truly devastated... so much so that I even began to go through another crisis of belief that I recorded on this very blog. All I have to add is that I no longer bear any resentment towards Lana or Gabriella, and only wish them the best of luck. My relationship with Krissy began almost immediately after my breakup with Gabriella. I was desperate to regain the status I supposed that I had lost along with my girlfriend, so I latched onto the first woman who showed me any sort of positive attention. Her death and my downward spiral are all well-documented on this blog. I didn’t want to blame myself for her passing as well, so I developed a conspiracy to rationalize the whole ordeal. I even tried to act like a completely different person to try to keep the blame as mentally distant from myself as possible, but that didn’t work either. In the end, this is my cross to bear alone. So that brings us to now. What will become of allygodot? The truth is, I don’t know and quite frankly I don’t think that is the most important thing right now. I realized last night when I was looking at that art of Diego and Godot as Happy Tree Friends characters that I desperately wanted to be anyone other than myself... it really opened my eyes to the level of repression that had been burdening me since the incident six years ago. I realized that if I wanted to change, sitting around and thinking about how things could hypothetically be different isn’t going to do anything. If I want to make progress and truly become a better person, I’m going to have to act better, not just tell myself that I am. From now on, I will be defining myself on my actions and not my beliefs, as wise man once said. I hope that soon, I will have become a good enough person to meet Anton face to face again... I still love him after all these years, and even though I expect that he justifiably won’t want anything to do with me anymore, I still think that it is a guilt that needs to be resolved. If I ever come back to this blog, it’ll be as a different Adam to the one you thought that you knew. It’ll be as the Adam I’m trying to become... the true Adam that I know exists deep within me... Not allygodot, but as proudgodot. My name is Adam, but people online call me Coffee or Godot. I’m a 27 years old former music student living in Green Bay, Wisconsin. I am bisexual. My main interests are Ace Attorney, Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, and My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.

[engie-ivy]

Happy Valentine's Day!

Have some Valentine Wolfstar Fluff, with a touch of Jily.

Remus hates grand romantic gestures, but wants to make one, because the person he fancies loves them. Sirius loves grand romantic gestures, but doesn't want to make one, because the person he fancies hates them. James thinks this could be good.

The not-so-subtle art of grand romantic gesture making

“You’re the last person I would’ve expected, Remus John Lupin.”

“Yet here I am.”

“Here you are indeed.”

Impatiently, Remus folds his arms across his chest. “Can you help me, or what?”

“I must say, your request surprises me.”

“They say you’re the best.” Remus replies with a shrug.

“They don’t just say I am the best, I am the best. But you never showed any interest in that before.”

“Well, I obviously do now.”

“You’ve never been a fan of my work, which you’ve made evidently clear, and now you’re suddenly requiring my services?”

“The situation has changed,” Remus replies curtly.

“Enlighten me.”

Remus sighs. “I may not always have been a fan of your work, but I’m not the only part involved.”

“Interesting. And what would be in it for me?”

“Nevermind, Prongs,” Remus scoffs, getting up from his chair. “If you’re gonna be an arse about it...” He moves to walk out of the room.

“No, Moony! Wait!” James exclaims. “I wanna help! I’m sorry, I’ll stop being a twat.”

Remus sits back down, but doesn’t stop glaring at James.

“So,” James says. “You want my help planning a grand romantic gesture for Valentine’s Day?”

Remus shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “If anyone knows anything about grand romantic gestures, it’d be you. You make several per year.”

“And you were never impressed by any of them!”

“I said I’d prefer something small and intimate myself,” Remus counters. “I never said they weren’t impressive. That time you somehow managed to cover the girls’ dormitory in white lilies was quite admirable. Or the time that flock of birds followed Lily around all day, singing love songs, that was sweet. Annoying, but sweet. Or that time those fireworks first spelled Lily’s name, and then exploded into tiny pieces of paper, each containing a compliment for her, now that was impressive!”

“Ah yes,” James muses. “Some of my best work. But that still doesn’t explain what made you change your mind.”

“Well,” Remus says hesitantly. “There’s this person...”

James perks up at this. “Oh? You have a person?”

Remus’ cheeks colour. “It’s just this person I like, I mean really like, who loves grand romantic gestures.”

“But if that’s not your thing...”

Remus shakes his head. “It’s not about me. I want to make this person happy, so it’s about what this person wants.”

James gives Remus a sappy smile. He can’t refuse when romance is involved, not that he wants to. “Alright, Moony. I’ll take your case! With my help, you’ll dazzle your person!”

Remus gives him a grateful smile, but it immediately disappears again when James asks “So, who is it?”

His eyes widen. “I’m not telling!”

James practically pouts. “Oh, come on, Moony! You’ve told me this much already.”

“No, I can’t, I won’t. You... might talk to the person.”

“If I know your person, even better!” James says. “I can more easily personalize the gesture!”

“Please, Prongs,” Remus says pleadingly. “I’m almost positive that this person doesn’t have the same type of feelings for me, and I don’t want to think about that. I just want to do something nice for Valentine’s Day, and make this person happy, like this person deserves. Even if you figure out who it is, I don’t want to talk about it or hear your opinion about it. I just need to do this, to show how much this person means to me, and that’s it. I don’t expect anything to come from it.”

James stares at Remus for a moment, at the desperate, yet determined, look in his eyes. He sighs. “Okay, but you need to give me something to work with. Favourite colour, favourite animal, favourite food, favourite music?” James grabs a quill and a piece of parchment to note it all down.

“Favourite colour is golden, as it’s warm and reminding of Gryffindor. Has a weak spot for dogs, any kind of dog. Loves Pumpkin Pastries, preferably with that strong cheese, and is obsessed with Muggle candy bars, as they were never allowed growing up. Pretends to listen to The Blasting Skrewts, but secretly adores all the happy, romantic songs of the Muggle band The Beatles,” Remus says in one breath.

James holds the quill motionless above the parchment, not having written down a word, as he stares at Remus open-mouthed. Remus’ face has gone bright red as he looks down at his hands, refusing to meet James’ eyes.

I don’t want to talk about it or hear your opinion about it.

Remus’ words echo in James’ mind. He scrapes his throat. “So, eh, dogs, you said?”

Writing everything down suddenly seems a lot less urgent, as James has a strong suspicion he already knows quite a lot about what this person likes and dislikes.

James is sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the fireplace in the common room, playing chess with Peter, but his mind isn’t on the game. Remus is sitting on the couch reading a book, while absentmindedly threading his fingers through Sirius’ hair, who is lying on his back with his head in Remus’ lap.

It’s not weird to James. Remus and Sirius are always close together, like this, or sitting with their legs pressed against each other, wrapping an arm around each other, resting their head on the other’s shoulder.

Suddenly, though, it seems weird to James that he never thought it weird. He’s used to it when it’s Remus and Sirius, but he certainly doesn’t know any other friends who act so affectionately.

And then there’s the look. The look Sirius is giving Remus right now. The soft smile and the expression in his eyes. He looks at him fondly, admiringly, lovingly.

James is often called a mother-hen by his friends, and he always scolds when they do so, but in truth, James actually is very protective over his friends, especially Remus and Sirius. They’ve been through enough. Remus with his lonely childhood and painful condition, Sirius with his loveless childhood and abusive parents. James will be damned of he’s going to let anyone break their hearts, and whoever they start dating, it won’t be easy to gain the James Potter Seal of Approval.

But while thinking about who’d be good enough for his friends, he never considered this. But this, this could be good.

James is flipping through a catalogue. He doesn’t need to buy lilies this time. Perhaps roses? They’re cliché, sure, but set a romantic mood like no other. Definitely no rose petals, that’s more suited for private occasions.

Sirius plucks the catalogue out of his hands and flops down next to him on the bed. “Got any idea yet what you’re going to do for Evans this year?”

“No,” James says, resting back against the headboard. “I’ve been... busy.”

“Mmm,” Sirius replies absentmindedly, while flipping through the catalogue. His eyes remain on an add for floating candles for a moment, and James makes a mental note. “I love grand romantic gestures,” Sirius sighs.

“Well,” James says, taking the catalogue from his hands. “Maybe you can soon make them for the person you like.”

Sirius lets out a short laugh. “Not if that person hates grand romantic gestures.”

James rolls up the catalogue and smacks Sirius over the head with it. “Are you saying you have your eye on someone?” He gasps. “Padfoot, don’t tell me you’re seeing someone!”

Sirius throws a pillow at James’ head. “Don’t be daft, Prongs. Like I could be dating someone without you knowing.”

There’s a silence, in which James watches Sirius worryingly bite his lower lip.

“But,” he eventually says, hesitantly. “There might be someone that I... fancy.”

“Oh?” James says, sitting up more straight.

“”Yeah,” Sirius says with colouring cheeks. “But like I said, it’s someone who hates grand romantic gestures, who would prefer something small and intimate.”

“But if grand romantic gestures are more your style...”

Sirius shakes his head. “It’s not about me. I want to make this person happy, so it’s about what this person wants.”

James can barely contain his grin. Where has he heard that before?

He pretends to focus on the catalogue, but in reality he’s carefully watching the expression on Sirius’ face. “I suppose grand romantic gestures aren’t for everyone.” He tries to sound as casual as possible. “Some people would probably prefer something like, I don’t know, snuggling up together with a good book, drinking hot tea and eating chocolate?”

That fond smile is back on Sirius’ face, and he speaks without seeming to realise. “Yeah, he’d love that!”

James smiles to himself. Yes, this could definitely be good.

James is glad that he didn’t go with roses, but the floating candles are definitely a nice touch, spreading a soft light over the pile of blankets in front of the fire place. The huge stuffed dog wearing a t-shirt saying ‘Will you be my Valentine?’ is the exact right amount of cheesy. There’s a warming spell cast over the tray with Pumpkin Pastries, so they won’t cool down, and candy bars are spread all across the blankets. ‘Love Me Do’ from The Beatles is softly playing in the background.

Many other Gryffindors in the common room are giving the scene appreciating glances. Remus had wanted to set it up in their dorm, but James had convinced him that doing it publicly was part of the charm. It showed that you wanted the whole world to know how much you cared about your person.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Remus mutters nervously beside James.

“Nothing says romance more than a public declaration!” James says.

“Nothing says embarrassment more than a public rejection,” Remus argues.

James rolls his eyes. “I’ve been publicly rejected a great many times.”

“Yes, but you’re-” James looks at Remus with a raised eyebrow. “Special,” Remus finishes.

“It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks!” James says. “You’re showing the person you love how much you care, and that’s the only thing that matters.”

A soft smile appears on Remus’ lips.

“Now,” James pats Remus on his back. “You said your person will be here at four, right?” That happens to also be the time Sirius comes back from Advanced Arithmancy. “Well, I’m going to check real quick if-”

“James, can I tell you something?”

“We don’t have much time left, but we can talk tonight, or tomorrow morning if-”

“It’s Sirius!”

“So serious it can’t wait a while longer?”

Remus shakes his head. “No, I mean, my person, this person, it’s Sirius.”

James blinks at him. “Moony, did you really think I didn’t know that already? I helped you decide what dog looked most like Padfoot, I found Sirius’ Beatle records for you.”

Remus shrugs. “I thought you’d surely speak up if you knew. Tell me I’m being an idiot, that Sirius definitely doesn’t see me like that, that I should find someone not so obviously out of my league. And when you didn’t say anything...”

“You asked me not to say anything!”

“Yes, but I didn’t think you would’ve listened if you knew it was a hopeless crush on your best friend!”

“Moony,” James runs a hand through his hair. “Do you honestly think I’d let you do all of this had I thought it was hopeless?”

Remus just shrugs again.

“Look, Remus,” James says solemnly. “I’m not Sirius. I mean, I’m serious of course, but not Sirius. I can’t give you any answers or make you any promises, only he can do that, but I can tell you that I wouldn’t have let you gone through with all of this if I hadn’t thought you had a chance.”

“What’s this?”

James spins around to see that Sirius has climbed through the portrait hole. “Prongs, is this one of yours for Evans?”

“Nope,” James says. “This isn’t mine, and not for Evans. It’s for you.”

Sirius’ eyes widen and he looks again, this time taking in all the details that are exactly adapted to all his favourite things. His eyes widen even further. “Wow,” he whispers in awe. “Who...?”

“Turn around,” James grins.

Sirius whirls around. Remus is standing there, face flushed, holding a bouquet of roses (alright, maybe James didn’t go without roses completely). Sirius’ mouth drops opens and it’s hard to tell who’s blushing more, Remus or Sirius.

“Hi,” Remus says. “Hello. Hi. How’s it going? Nice to see you.”

James had told him to give the flowers first, with good reason, as Remus in his nerves is already subconsciously plucking the petals off.

“I like you,” Remus says. “I mean, of course I like you. We’ve been friends for years. It would’ve been rather odd if I never even liked you.”

James has to resist the urge to face-palm. He knew they should’ve written a speech out. It takes away the spontaneity, but at least it prevents this.

Remus lets out a deep sigh. “I like like you. To be honest, I’m quite smitten with you. I know how much you like grand romantic gestures, so I just wanted to give you one of your own. You deserve it, Sirius. You’re bloody great, you know that? Of course ridiculously good-looking, with those eyes, that hair and that smile. But also because you care so much. No matter what you do, you always give it your all. There’s nothing I admire more than the way you fight for what you believe in. What I love most, though, is how bloody happy you make me. You somehow make me feel good about myself, more than I ever thought possible. Knowing that you’re always there for me gives me more confidence than I even knew I had in me. You make me smile even on my worst days. I just want to make you happy the way you make me happy. I don’t expect you to feel the same way. This might not be what you had hoped for, I’m probably not who you wanted to do this, but I just want to make you smile in return, and let you know how much I appreciate- Padfoot? Padfoot, why are you crying? Please don’t cry! I wanted to make you smile! Do you hate it? Is this not what you wanted? Did I do it all wrong?”

“Remus, you absolute idiot!” Sirius says with a sniffle. “I’m crying because I’m happy! What else am I suppose to do with you saying all those outrageously, ridiculously, wonderful things?”

“So you do like it?”

“Like it?” Sirius shakes his head. “I love it, you bloody dunce!”

Remus still looks hesitantly. “So I didn’t do it wrong?”

Sirius laughs through his tears. “You did nothing wrong. Except maybe the part where you said you’re not who I wanted to do this. Of course I want it to be you. It’s you, Moony. Only you. It’s always been you.”

“Really?” Remus’ voice trembles.

“I’m completely gone for you, Moony.”

Remus face lights up in the brightest smile James has ever seen. He just stands there, beaming at Sirius.

Eventually, Sirius let’s out a shaky laugh. “Aren’t you supposed to be holding me or something?”

Remus drops the roses, which is probably for the best, and rushes towards him. His arms wrap around Sirius’ waist and Sirius’ arms wrap around his neck, while he hides his face against Remus’ shoulder.

Cheers erupt from the people watching, but Remus and Sirius don’t notice, being in their own little world as they are. Sirius lifts up his head, meets Remus’ eyes, and the next moment, with the sound of even more cheers echoing through the room, Remus kisses him.

James starts shooing people out of the room. That’s enough for the public part.

“Was this your work?”

James spins around to see Lily stand behind him, arms crossed over her chest.

“It was Remus’ idea,” James says truthfully. “But I helped with the execution.”

Lily takes a few steps forward and looks up at him with those magnificent, enchanting green eyes.

James has trouble remembering how to breath.

“All this,” Lily sighs. “And all I got was a box of chocolate.”

“I’m sorry!” James blurts out. “I was busy! I just didn’t have time...”

Lily chuckles, leans forward, presses a kiss against his cheek, and whispers in his ear. “You better up your game for next year, Potter.”

[unlucky-rubber-ducky]

Found

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

3265 words

Summary/warnings: Not proofread. Sleep deprived writing. Mentions of injury and fighting and sadness and all that jazz. Post-Order 66, baby.

A/n: This one is definitely a ride. If not good, I hope it is at least entertaining. It was entertaining to write. Kinda sad. As always, please let me know if there’s anything I can edit to make the story more inclusive. Thank you for reading!

The annoyance you felt as you trudged out of the marketplace was… unmatched. This was certainly not the deal. You would help Sar’pah clean up the mess he had made, and in return he would get you off of Abafar. Of course, when you had said ‘off of Abafar’, you had meant somewhere with some semblance of civilization; something to blend into. Not another Maker-forsaken desert planet.

You should have known that a ‘pit-stop’ on Tatooine meant kicking the dangerous fugitive offboard, but seeing as how Sar’pah himself was a wanted man, you had hoped he would be a little more forgiving. He had landed in Bestine, asked you to go get a few items from the market, and flew off the moment you stepped off the walkway.

Kriffing fool doesn’t even know what kind of fugitive I am. Your trusting nature may have lost you a ride, but it certainly didn’t extend far enough that you told people why you were on the run. You simply told them that working with you could be dangerous. It was up to them to decide if they wanted to take that risk.

Too many would love the reward a Jedi would bring them. And dammit, if you were going to be brought down by the Empire, it certainly wasn’t going to be for anyone else’s gain. So, here you were, stuck on another desert planet. One ruled by the Hutts, no less. A few too many brushes with them, before and during the Clone Wars, had you very wary to make your presence known to them. So, you figured that at least until you had a ride offplanet, you should try your best to avoid bigger settlements. (Well, as big as settlements on Tatooine could get.)

Which brought you back to the current moment. Republic Credits had never meant much in the Outer Rim, but you had just enough to buy some water and an admittedly sickly looking Eopie. You hadn’t really bothered to check what direction you were setting off on, just picking the horizon that looked the least difficult to navigate with a large animal. It was also in the opposite direction of Mos Eisley, where you were quite sure a few old enemies resided. 

You refused to acknowledge it, but you could feel the Force pulling you west. You were sure many Jedi had taken solace in the Force after all they had lost, but all you felt was… betrayal. You were well aware the Order itself was corrupt, you didn’t deny that- but mass murder? The will of the Force was to kill some of its most loyal followers? You had witnessed its power. You couldn’t deny its existence. But you could deny its benevolence.

So you kept going with the suns in your eyes and told yourself it was logical to go west.

“Hey!” You ignored it. You didn’t know anyone here, surely they were calling for someone else. “Hello? Excuse me?”

You finally turned to see a blue Twi’lek jogging to catch up with your Eopie. Three years of being hunted had your instincts screaming at you to reach for your lightsaber, but the friendly (if panicked) smile on her face put you at ease enough to let her get close enough to explain herself.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

“Oh you don’t have to be so formal! I’m Sasrula, just Sas if it’s easier, and if you’re willing, I could really really use some help right now.” You stopped your mount entirely, turning so the suns were at your back and the stranger couldn’t see your face. You examined her more closely, which you could tell was making her more nervous. “I just need to get out of here, somewhere a little more sparsely populated, and quickly, or else I wouldn’t be bothering you, but just since I’m pretty light and your Eopie could probably carry both-”

“You were enslaved?”

She looked down at herself, seemingly only now noticing the small bits of fabric she had been given as clothing. Before she could go on another rant, you gestured to the space behind you. 

“Hop on.” Before she could get any closer you help up your hand, stopping her in her tracks. “There’s a cloak and some water in the bag.”

 The animal beneath you protested, already struggling with your weight, but when you calmed it down enough, it began its slow progress. The first minute or so was silent, but Sasrula’s chatty entrance was an omen of the hours to come.

“Whatcha doin’ on Tatooine?”

“Passing through.”

You could sense the doubt that washed over her, and the suspicion that your lie brought onto you.

“Most people ‘passing through’ Tatooine don’t ride off into the desert.”

“I have never killed anyone that wasn’t about to kill me.” It didn’t… soothe her, but the blunt statement seemed to ease her enough into another topic of conversation. 

“...did you have a job before Tatooine?”

“Few years ago.”

“Spouse?”

“No.” It was too late, though. You had stiffened, and due to her close proximity, Sasrula easily picked up that there was more to that story than you were letting on. “He and I were never married.”

“Already have a wife then, did he?” You let out a puff through your nose.

“Something like that.”

There was a time you had resented Obi-Wan for inevitably choosing the Order over you. For leaving your quarters early in the morning, whispering empty promises of love and a happy future. Nowadays you would go to the ends of a universe just for one more moment with him. But you would never get that. Because even if Cody hadn’t been the one to kill him, and he had survived the initial execution, Obi-Wan was too courageous and too selfless and too reckless to have made it three years on the run. 

And if maybe you didn’t want to consider the idea that he hadn’t come looking for you like you had spent the first two years looking for him, you would never admit it to yourself. You weren’t sure you could survive that notion.

“Was he handsome?”

This was the most Sas had seen you emote in the little while you had now been together- she wasn’t letting your mystery man get away that easily.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Rich?” You laughed, and Sas felt just a bit of pride that she had eased you up.

“Hardly! The man never remembered to bring whatever money he did have, and I would constantly have to apologize to Dex-” You stopped yourself. No names. Don’t get familiar. “Dex was the owner of a greasy little diner.”

There was something… pleasant, about pretending that your relationship with Obi-Wan had been a normal one. There was no Jedi Council to answer to, no status to keep safe, nothing. Just you, a few memories, and an escaped Twi’lek full of questions and eager to fill the silence.

“...then, the kriffing bastard, he pushed me into his closet! Like whoever was coming in wasn’t gonna figure out something was amiss!” The giggle coming from behind you was loud, and you were glad to finally be sharing these stories with someone. 

“Oh no I entirely relate, there was a guy who- why’d you stop?”

You all but fell off of the Eopie, stumbling when you landed but quickly steady on your feet. Something felt very wrong, and you were quite sure that something was moving towards you very fast. While your hand first landed on your lightsaber, you made the decision to grab the blaster you had stolen from Sar’pah instead.

A distant cloud of dust, coming from the direction of Bestine, was moving… fast.

“How fast do sandstorms usually move?”

“Well, it depends on the pre-existing weather and geographical conditions, but they can go hundreds of miles an hour, it’s not pleasant-“ she finally turned to look at what was causing you to panic “dank farrik! That is not a dust storm!”

“Well what is it then?!”

“A lot of trouble!”

As you tried to pick out details of the approaching figures, a reflection of light let you know they were on speeders. A brief glance at the struggling eoipe let you know you wouldn’t be riding away from this, and the miles of flat desert around you hardly made for any good hiding spots.

“Are we sure it’s trouble?” You knew it was- another whisper from the Force that you were trying to keep unacknowledged. 

“Yeah. I had hoped he wouldn't notice I was missing till tomorrow.”

Now that’s just… great.

“Who is ‘he’?!”

“My previous captor. He’s, uh, not very forgiving.” Sas moved to get off of the animal, but you stopped her. “Listen, I appreciate your entrepreneurial spirit, but you’re not gonna get any money from him for my return, he’s just gonna kill you.”

“I’m not trying to get any money, you’re not going back.” The Twi’lek’s surprise was almost palpable. “At least, not while I’m standing.”

The cause of the dust cloud had gotten close enough that you could see four speeders drawing near. Three had large, intimidating riders, and the front one, the fanciest one, had a severe looking older man.

They slowed when they drew close enough, and the cold look in the man’s eyes told you everything you needed to know about him.

“I believe you’ve made off with something of mine.”

“You’ll have to enlighten me, sir.”

He paused for a moment, taking your protective stance and hood-covered face in.

“I’m not so sure I do, partner.”

“I haven’t stolen anything since I landed on your dustball of a planet.”

He snorted, still looking down on you from his position on his speeder.

“That,” he pointed at Sasrula, “is mine.”

“She is traveling with me. Has been for a while.”

“You can’t fool me, traveler. I know my own property. Don’t try to lie.”

You held your hands up in mock defeat.

“Hey, I never said exactly how long she had been with me. No lies have been told.”

“How long is this gonna go?”

“Till you either let us go, or are crushed under my boot.”

“Now, we both know that’s not gonna happen.”

In an instant you dropped to the ground, dodging blaster fire from four different directions. Even in the heat of the moment you were wary to reveal your past, so you pulled out your own blaster, desperately trying to get back on your feet whilst dodging dozens of blasts every moment. Once you finally had the chance to stand, you were able to get two of the larger men down.

It was a stressful situation, and once again you hated to admit it, but fighting felt… good. Not the chaos or death or injury of it, but the feeling of letting the Force guide your movements, feeling it flow around you and tell your limbs where to go.

Unfortunately, the method didn’t work when you were surprised out of your focus. And a cloaked figure coming out of seemingly nowhere and kicking the leader off of his speeder was enough to startle you.

You cursed as pain shot from your right shoulder, and it took everything in you not to drop to the ground. You shot the last of the body guards, and aimed at Sas’s captor, who laid in the cloaked man’s shadow. You paused when you felt a hand on your arm. You looked up to see Sasrula, who was looking at you with an unspoken request in her eyes.

You handed her the blaster and let her take the shot. You understood the desire.

Once he was dead on the ground, you turned towards the other presence, who had taken to watching your interaction with Sas. You couldn’t see his face under the hood of his cloak, and some part of you felt better knowing your face was likely just as concealed as his. 

“Thank you for the help!” Sasrula’s bright voice poked through the suspicious silence.

“It was no trouble at all.”

Your blood froze. You were almost certain you knew that voice.

“Take down your hood.”

“Excuse me? I-“

“Please just do it.”

You could see his shoulders stiffen, and you knew he recognized your voice. He lowered his hood. 

His eyes were the first thing you noticed. They were sad. The saddest they had ever been. And so tired. But there was a burning hope, a burning question, that you knew you needed to answer for him.

So you copied him, and dropped your hood.

“Hey, Obi.”

That was all it took for you both to take off in a sprint, clearing the few meters between you in less than seconds. You jumped and landed in his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist.

You buried your face in his neck, sobbing as you tried to get as close to him as you possibly could. He let out a disbelieving laugh, and you pulled back to get another look at his face. You placed your hands on his cheeks, brushing the stray tears that had fallen from his eyes.

“I thought you were dead, Obi.”

“I thought you were dead, little one.”

There was a part of you that expected him to push you away when you leaned in to kiss him. A part of you that still felt it needed to hide your relationship. 

Instead, you kissed him and all of your grief and anger and sadness and deep adoration and love were on display for him, and his for you.

You finally pulled back and stepped back down on the ground when someone cleared their throat from behind you.

“I’m assuming this is the handsome man from before?”

You blushed and looked at Obi-Wan, who raised an eyebrow at you.

“Yes, it is.” You reluctantly pulled out of Obi-Wan’s arms, taking a step back to look him over for injuries. “How long have you been here? How did you survive all of the slaughter? I heard you had killed Grievous but then there was so much chaos, and I made my way to Utapau just to be sure you weren’t there and-”

“You went to Utapau?! Darling, that was foolhardy and-” 

You took another step back.

“And?”

“And dangerous! I can only imagine that place is crawling with Imperials!”

“What was I supposed to do, Obi? Yours was the only face I cared to see, so I figured I’d start from the beginning.” Conflicting and powerful emotions caused more tears to fall from your eyes despite your best efforts. “What was I supposed to do?” It came out as a whisper, and you hated how broken you sounded. Suddenly you felt very tired, and the previously forgotten blaster wound on your shoulder was beginning to burn with pain.

“I had hoped that you would let me go.”

“Could you have?”

“What?”

“Could you have let me go?”

Obi-Wan didn’t answer immediately, and you had your answer. Suddenly all of the heartbreak and quiet crying in your quarters at the temple were worth it. The three years of not knowing if you were searching for a ghost, the sneaking suspicion that he hadn’t done the same for you.

Worth it.

“Can I stay with you?” You sounded like a child and you hated it, but now that you had him you weren’t sure you could let him go.

His continued silence turned your heart to ice. Perhaps he hadn’t looked for you because he was tired of you. Perhaps you misread the situation. Perhaps he could have let you go. 

“Have you had any run-ins with the Empire?”

“Nothing beyond what any other Jedi has encountered.” You heard Sasrula gasp, and you felt just a little bad that you had entirely forgotten she was there. “I’m sneaky, Kenobi. Surely you remember that.” The curious turn of conversation had you feeling just a little more stable. He did not, however, smile.

“I’m staying here. On Tatooine. For a long time.”

“You’re saying I can stay?”

“It’s not like I can kick you off the planet.”

The rush of relief was sudden, and altogether too much for you. That, combined with the rather serious wound you had yet to take care of; the exhaustion of the past few hours; and the hot sun, it’s really no surprise that you passed out.

“Oh dear.”

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

When you woke, you felt blessedly cooler. The bandage around your shoulder was soft, and the blankets you were wrapped in smelled like the desert and Obi-Wan, which calmed your initial alarm at waking in a foreign place. There were no windows in whatever room you were in, but the general darkness around you suggested it was nighttime. There was a doorway with just a curtain across it, from which you could hear quiet murmurs. Your sleep muddled brain told you to lay back down and close your eyes for just a little longer, but you were too curious to sleep any longer.

When you stood you realized you weren’t in your own shirt. It was much larger than your own, and a slightly different color. You were, however, still in your own pants. Which was very appreciated. You took a few steps before stumbling, still rather weak from the past few hours.

You weren’t noticed when you first stepped into (what you could only assume to be) the main room of Obi-wan’s home. Said man was currently bickering with Sasrula over how to prepare dinner, and if they should wake you up to eat. You were glad to see that the Twi’lek hadn’t run off, and you were even gladder to see Obi-Wan in a lighter mood.

You finally caught his eye when you moved further into the room, and he quickly moved to your side in order to help you to a make-shift dining room chair, kneeling in front of you. You sheepishly smiled at your two companions, who both returned your look with concern.

“I see you two have become pals.”

“I see why you spent three years without him. Your man is insufferable.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, and you both tried to pretend like Sasrula calling him ‘your man’ didn’t affect you.

“You gave us a bit of a fright, my darling. I hadn’t even realized you had been hit.” He kissed you on the forehead. “I do hope you don’t mind that I took your shirt off in order to treat your wound.”

You shrugged.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

If he wasn’t red from Sasrula’s earlier comment, he certainly was now.

The Twi’lek snorted and made her way to the kitchenette on the other side of the small space, taking her chance to prepare dinner her way.

“How long did I sleep for?”

“About two days. You left me alone with a stranger for two days.”

“That explains why you’re so chummy with Sas.”

He grimaced.

“Yes. I… don’t know that I’ve ever met such a talkative woman.”

“Giving Ahsoka a run for her money, hm?”

“Don’t remind me.”

You chuckled, and felt a warmth in your heart that you hadn’t felt since you and Obi-Wan were both Padawan’s and had the galaxy ahead of you. Except… this was different. You weren’t sure you could call it better. There was too much bloodshed and trauma for it to be better. But it was undoubtedly freer. 

“Does it make you uncomfortable to say that I love you?”

Obi-Wan smiled softly.

“Never.” He pressed his forehead to yours. “I love you deeply, little one.”

[missing-marvel]

The Shape of You (Pt. 4)

Pairing: Vision/Reader

Part 3, Part 5

Words: 5698

A/N: *shows up several months late with coffee and a new chapter* What’s up y’all, who’s ready for more metal husband?

-

You awoke feeling sluggish and hazy, practically choking on dust and resisting the need to sneeze. The feeling quickly shifted to panic as you opened your eyes to even more darkness which only worsened when you tried to move, something blocking the space in front of you as well as tangling around your legs. It wasn’t until you rolled to the floor with a loud ‘thud’ that you remembered falling asleep on the sofa. You didn’t remember grabbing a blanket, however, which had gotten wrapped around your legs in your sleep.

You recognized Vision’s silhouette as he appeared hurriedly from the other room. You couldn’t see much in the dim light, but you could recognize him by his eyes alone. They glowed softly in the dark, that electric-blue bringing some familiarity to your surroundings.

The lights came on and you were momentarily blinded, shielding your eyes with your hand as they adjusted. “Sorry,” you said, blinking the last remnants of sleep away. “I just fell off the sofa. I’m okay.” You took a good look around the room for the first time since arriving, still not bothering to get up off the floor. It looked like a fairly basic living space. There was a patterned rug, a coffee table, some shelves with a few random knick-knacks, the usual. You did notice the lack of a TV, however. You supposed it wasn’t worth investing in one if no one would be living here ninety-nine percent of the time.

Still a bit groggy, you almost didn’t see Vision walk over to you and extend a hand to help you up. To be completely honest, you were perfectly comfortable on the floor but you weren’t going to turn him away. You uttered a quick ‘thanks’ as you got to your feet.

You had absolutely no idea what time it was but it was definitely dark out. Not a speck of light filtered in through the drawn curtains. Whether it was evening or early morning, however, you hadn’t a clue. “What time is it?”

Vision pointed to a digital clock sitting on a bookshelf close by. It read 6:30.

“I only slept for a few hours?” Well, more like several hours, by your estimate. It was broad daylight when you’d arrived. Still, that was surprising given that you’d basically passed out as soon as you got indoors and hadn’t slept in like two days.

Vision shook his head, however, cutting off your train of thought. He held up one finger on his right hand and put it down before holding up nine in total. It took you a second to understand what he meant, thinking he was saying ten before realizing.

“Are you saying I slept nineteen hours?” Vision just nodded and you let out a sigh. That explained why you felt so stiff. That much time on a sofa, even a surprisingly comfortable one, would take its toll. One other thing struck you, however. “Wait a minute, so it’s six in the morning, then? It’s awfully dark out.” You chanced a peek out the window to actually confirm that it was, in fact, dark outside.

You turned back when you heard the familiar scratch of pen on paper. It looked like Vision had found a new notepad somewhere. By the time you walked over, he had finished writing. “Clock is an hour ahead. Haven’t fixed it. Only got power back on a couple hours ago.”

“Oh, that makes more sense.” This time of year, it was perfectly normal to be dark at 5:30. However, it was also cold outside and you were beginning to notice that in here as well. You picked up the blanket off the floor and draped it over your shoulders, pulling it tight around yourself. “Is there heat at all?”

Vision wrote his response as quick as possible, handwriting still impeccable as always. “It’s on but not very strong. Building isn’t in best condition anymore. There’s fuses missing so I prioritized some things. A few lights aren’t going to work.” He stepped aside and gestured somewhere down the small hallway behind him. On the wall was an open panel.

“Wait this place still has a fuse box? The Avengers couldn’t afford someplace with circuit breakers?” You couldn’t help but crack a smile at your own joke, if you could really call it that. You were just happy your custodial knowledge was relevant for once.

“Old SHIELD building,” Vision quickly noted. If this place had been built by the Avengers, it would be far more modern, probably to an unnecessary extent. Tony Stark would only stand for the best, even if it was a safe house that would almost never get used.

“Shield? Are they still around?” You only sort of understood what SHIELD was. No more than any other member of the general public. They were a kind-of, sort-of government agency or something like that. They always kept their stuff super secret so most people never really knew what they did. Then there was the whole deal with Hydra which nobody understood. You decided a long time ago it wasn’t worth worrying about, much like most of the American populace. Perhaps you should have paid closer attention.

Vision simply tilted his hand side-to-side in a gesture that implied that the answer was complicated and really not worth getting into. He shifted the conversation to you instead. “How are you feeling?”

“I should be asking you that. You weren’t doing so well yesterday.” You tried not to let the worry in your voice show, though you weren’t sure what good it would do.

You thought you saw a hint of a smile cross his face as he turned back to his paper. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be alright.”

“Vision...” You recalled back to the other night, when you’d told him nearly the same thing after a couple solid days of no sleep. Before you could retort, however, he’d turned and headed toward the other room, gesturing for you to follow.

The small office space was an absolute mess. The only reason you called it an office was the papers and folders scattered around the room as well as the computer tucked away on a desk in the corner. Underneath a blanket of dust, it looked almost exactly like the first computer you’d ever owned. Actually, it might just be the first computer. You were pretty sure it should be in a museum.

Vision navigated the difficult terrain with ease as he made his way to the desk. You, on the other hand, felt like you were doing a balancing act as you tried to limit your steps to the few parts of the floor that were visible. You didn’t know what all these stacks of papers and folders were exactly, but you figured it was best not to mess with them.

“There’s no way that thing works,” you said once you’d cleared a spot to stand by the desk, your own little island of shag carpeting amongst the sea of paper.

Vision pried open a panel on the side of the computer, carefully removing a CPU board with all the expertise of a seasoned technician. The actual monitor was half buried in a pile of miscellaneous cords and plugs next to the desk. After a brief moment of inspection, wherein he must’ve decided all appeared fine, he went ahead and booted the thing up.

It chugged to life like a patient coming out of surgery, slowly and with great difficulty. It made sounds you were pretty sure should only be coming from a lawn mower but all the lights eventually blinked on in time. As it did so, you braved the sneeze-inducing dust pile for the monitor, the air turning cloudy as you shifted all the junk that had been untouched for years. “I’m guessing you’ll need this?” You hoisted the dinosaur of a monitor up onto the desk, Vision taking it gratefully and nodding a thanks your way.

For a minute after he plugged it in, it seemed the screen wasn’t going to work. Only after staring at it did you realize it was working, albeit extremely slowly. A symbol was appearing on the screen, the shape becoming more discernible the longer the machine whirred. As far you could tell, it looked like some kind of government emblem, like an eagle with a crest in the center. It wasn’t until it had spent a solid minute loading that you were able to read the text surrounding it. “Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement... Logistics Division? What on Earth does— wait, that’s what SHIELD stands for?”

Vision nodded in a way that suggested he wasn’t overly fond of the acronym either. You were beginning to think he wasn’t so difficult to read after all, not like you thought when you’d first met, at least. It just took time, much like reading the decades-old monitor had.

“I think someone just really wanted the initials to spell out shield.” You gave a breathy laugh, more air than sound. “What’re you going to do with this old thing? Can it even get internet?”

Vision shook his head and reached for his paper from the edge of the desk. “Not that kind of computer,” he wrote. You resisted butting in as he tore off a new sheet, still not used to the pauses in conversation that resulted from the rather roundabout method of communication. “It’s wired directly into an old SHIELD system and by extension, hopefully, the Avengers emergency system.”

“Really? I would’ve guessed this place predated the Avengers.” As you spoke, Vision got the keyboard hooked up which had been stuffed into one of the desk drawers. It was missing at least a quarter of its key caps, the really chunky, old kind that made a satisfying click-clack when pressed. Apparently they’d prioritized actual computer hardware over keyboards considering there were offices at your job that still had keyboards just like it. Correction: your old job. You’d almost forgotten.

“SHIELD software was integrated with Stark tech after the Battle of New York. In theory, we should be able to put out an emergency signal on a secure Avengers server from here.” You almost hadn’t noticed Vision writing again as you zoned out a bit.

You would’ve been more excited over good news, but you’d learned over the years what happened when you got your hopes up. “So when you say in theory, I’m guessing the odds aren’t exactly...” You trailed off, unable to continue without sounding horribly pessimistic.

“It will work,” was all he wrote, a noticeable firmness in his grip as he held the pen. You didn’t say anything else but moved closer to the desk, directly by his side now. There was what could only be described as a hint of doubt in his expression before he turned back to the monitor as green text cluttered the screen.

“We can only hope so.” You let your hand brush his shoulder as you navigated back towards the door, no longer particularly caring to avoid crumpling the paper on the floor.

You weren’t sure how long it would take Vision to finish what he was doing, especially with the tech he was stuck with. You found it more than a bit ironic that possibly the most advanced machine on the planet had to use a decades-old computer to call for help. It felt weird to think of him as a machine. After what you’d been through in the past 24 hours alone, you’d begun to think of him as just another person. Well, not just another person, that wasn’t what you meant. How to put it...? You just couldn’t explain it. There was no precedent in your mind for a situation like this. Vision was a living being. As alive as anyone, maybe more so. That much you could say confidently.

Trying not to get too lost in your thoughts, you busied yourself investigating the rest of the apartment, not that there was much to find. Living room, connected kitchen, hallway with the office and stairs that led up to a bedroom and bathroom. All pretty standard. All of it looked fresh out of the 80’s. Well, maybe not fresh.

Just as you completed your lap of the place, you were interrupted by a low grumble from none other than your own stomach. That was a problem. There was definitely not food here. You had no other choice really than to shove the feeling to the back of your mind for now. You got yourself a glass of water to make do. At least the plumbing worked.

By the time Vision came back, it had been less than twenty minutes. “That was quick. Any success?” You sipped your water, ignoring the slight metallic tang it had.

Vision wrote as he crossed the room to stand opposite you from the island counter. “The beacon is active. Now someone just needs to hear it.”

Despite his lack of vocals, you sensed a definite lack of confidence in his words. “How long do you think that’ll take?” You hoped not too long. You were concerned about your food situation.

He didn’t bother writing a response. The expression on his face made it clear; he had no idea. Maybe never, if no one was out there to hear it. You only hummed a response, neither confirming nor retorting. The sound of you sipping your water seemed immensely loud in the heavy silence of the room.

“Well, what do we do now?” You were becoming anxious again. You didn’t like being forced to sit and wait. At any minute, you felt like law enforcement would start breaking the door down.

“We wait. There’s nothing else we can do.” He seemed apologetic. He wished he could give you a more concrete answer, some sort of assurance that this would all work out, but he couldn’t. Not truthfully, anyway.

It looked like you had some time to kill. You weren’t sure what all there really was to do. Still, it wasn’t all bad. At least you had company. “I wonder if there’s a better way we can communicate,” you mused, turning your mind to less dire matters.

Vision seemed to brighten up a bit as he was struck by an idea. “You don’t happen to know any ASL, do you?”

You shook your head. ��Unfortunately, no. I assume you do?”

He responded by holding up his right hand in a closed fist and sort of nodded it up and down.

“I’m guessing that means... yes?” It wasn’t a far stretch. You’d actually thought about learning ASL before but never gotten around to it. There were more uses for it than people realized. Too bad work left you too busy and tired to make the time for lessons. Well now you had nothing but time.

Vision just nodded his head in the more familiar interpretation of the word. He grabbed the pen and paper again off the counter. “I could teach you some. At least the important parts, if you want.” He hesitated a split second between sentences, just a bit nervous, though the pause was nowhere near long enough for you to notice. It was barely a stutter in his programming, a single digit skipped somewhere in his code. Nothing to be concerned with.

“Yeah,” you said, maybe just slightly too enthusiastic. “Yeah, that’d be great! I— I mean, it would be useful, you know? Way more efficient than pen and paper. Uhm...” You were struggling to ask how he wanted to start when your stomach growled, providing a convenient segue into another topic. “Heh, sorry. Didn’t realize how hungry I was.” You tried to pass it off as no big deal, although you really were starving. You hadn’t eaten anything since before setting Vision free. It had been well over a full day since then.

He looked surprised for a moment, which he was, before he began writing. For a genius super-computer, he could sometimes be very forgetful of the needs of his human cohorts. They were very fragile things, humans. The need for sleep and food was something Vision never had to worry about, something he realized he took for granted. Something akin to guilt began to gnaw at him when he too realized how long it had been since the escape. He should’ve brought up the matter earlier. “We need to get you food,” he wrote very matter-of-factly. It wasn’t something up for debate.

“I don’t exactly have a lot of cash on me, Vis.” You flinched at the nickname, quick to move on before he could call you out on it. It had been merely a slip of the tongue, just shortening his name for the sake of convenience. It could have been a gesture of friendship towards the android, though you weren’t sure you’d quite earned the right to call Vision a friend, even if you were fond of him. “I’ve got like 10 bucks, tops.” You pulled a few crumpled bills from your pockets to emphasize your point. You obviously couldn’t use your credit card, either. You’d seen enough movies to know that.

Vision thought a moment before coming up with an idea. “It’s not the most ethical thing to do, but I could get cash out of an ATM. It’s technically a matter of survival, after all.” He demonstrated exactly what he meant by phasing his hand through the paper as you read, something that could just as easily be done to a cash machine.

It wasn’t so much the legality of the idea that bothered you. After all, you’d stolen multiple cars. It was the matter of Vision’s safety. Not that he couldn’t protect himself but he would be spotted quite easily if he went outside. That was just a matter of fact. And if someone called the police on a strange magenta man or anything along the lines of ‘robot,’ you could pretty much guarantee trouble. “I don’t know... What if someone sees you? The last thing we want is to compromise the safe house. I can just wait awhile longer, I’ll be fine.”

Your stomach chose that moment to grumble again, completely undermining your point. Vision shot you a look that more than sufficed to communicate what he was thinking but he wrote it down anyway. “It would seem we don’t have much of a choice.”

You sighed, all but forced to agree. Although, it would be nice to get some actual food before your stomach started eating itself. “Fine,” you relented. “But we wait until it gets dark out. It’s safer that way.”

Vision wasn’t about to argue.

-

Memorization wasn’t really your strong suit, but you seemed to do surprisingly well with the start of your sign language lessons. It helped that your teacher was so patient.

Vision thought it would be best to start with a few simple phrases for the sake of saving paper. Common things such as ‘sorry’ and ‘thank you.’ You had the benefit of only really needing to recognize them as opposed to being able to do the signs yourself, since Vision could obviously hear you, but you took it upon yourself to mimic the gestures anyway.

It had been a few hours and your head was starting to ache but you insisted on continuing. You were certain you were doing well and you wanted Vision to be impressed. Not only could you remember how to spell your own name, you could spell his as well. The rest of the alphabet may not have stuck as much but oh well. For now, words and phrases were more important.

“That’s... someone?” You guessed as Vision held up his index finger and waved it in a sort of circle. He’d been quizzing you for a few minutes now, to which you’d done pretty well. He shook his head this time, however, and tried not to look amused by the almost comically offended look on your face. “What? Yes it is! I’m certain that means ‘someone!’” You were insistent on the fact. Vision hadn’t tried to trip you up yet but he must be this time. You tried to mimic the motion, repeating the word as if that would change anything.

He shook his head again, not bothering to hide his smile this time. He reached for your hand, raising it higher to show you that there was, in fact, a slight difference between what he was signing and what you were. For a moment, you looked almost startled, like a deer in headlights. He didn’t miss the hint of color that tinged your cheeks. His assumption was merely that you were embarrassed by your mistake, though it was an easy one to make. He switched back to paper in order to explain. “This,” he repeated his first gesture. “means ‘always’. What you signed was ‘someone.’ See the difference?”

You nodded in understanding although your attention was beginning to drift. You felt like you were cramming for an exam in a class you hadn’t been attending. You may or may not have actually had to do that before. The point was, you’d learned just about all you were going to for the day. And just in time, it seemed, as you glanced toward the curtains, no longer backlit by the afternoon sun. You’d managed to kill most of the day, between checking that the computer was still working and just generally talking with Vision. There wasn’t much else to do, not that you were complaining. You were quite enjoying the android’s company and not just because you were stuck with him. And to top it off, you’d managed to distract yourself from how hungry you were. Until now, that is.

“How about we call it a day on the lessons, hm? I’d say now’s about the best time to head outside. There’s just one thing we have to do first.” You turned and exited the room without explanation, only saying you’d be right back. You ran upstairs to the bedroom, hoping you could find what you needed. You hadn’t voiced your plan to Vision, although you saw no reason for him not to go along with it. It was a smart idea if you said so yourself. At least that’s what you told yourself as you began rifling through drawers.

Vision wasn’t sure what to think at first when you came bumbling down the stairs again with a messily folded bundle in your hands. But your intention became clear quite quickly once you’d returned, immediately holding out the clothes to him before bothering to explain.

“I hope this isn’t rude but you kind of… stand out. I just thought, maybe it’d be a good idea to disguise yourself. Just for safety. Is that okay?” You hoped there was no offense taken by the gesture. In truth, you were glad Vision was going with you and not just because of the money thing. You didn’t feel particularly safe walking the streets alone at night, especially when you didn’t know the area. But having Vision by your side made you feel nigh invincible. There was just the small issue of technically being wanted criminals.

He smiled, more to himself than anything. It was just strange, he thought, how concerned you were with his opinion. Of course he wasn’t offended. It was a smart idea. He chuckled a bit, although it was a strange action given his physical state. The motion of a laugh was there, his shoulders shuddering as any human’s would despite his lack of need to actually breathe, but there was no sound. It was one of those mannerisms that was ingrained in his programming, though he wasn’t sure quite where it came from. Not from Jarvis, certainly, since the AI had no physical form, and Ultron likely hadn’t been terribly focused on such gestures at the time of his creation. In reality, it was simply something he’d picked up on his own, even if he wasn’t aware of it.

You let out a breathy chuckle of your own as he took the clothes, glad to see he agreed with you wholeheartedly. He got dressed quickly, leaving only his face visible when he was done. Luckily, it was cold enough outside for him to get away with wearing gloves, a scarf and a hat. The clothes were a bit old-fashioned but in a professional way. The long wool coat and slacks in particular gave the impression of a scholarly type, perhaps even a professor. You couldn’t help but think it was a good look for him.

“Well don’t you look just dashing,” you teased. You’d found a coat for yourself as well, deciding your own jacket wasn’t going to be enough. You silently thanked whatever SHIELD employee set this place up for supplying a myriad of spare clothes. “Oh, one more thing.” You turned to the coat rack by the door, grabbing a scarf that had been left hanging there. “Just in case.”

You hesitated at the front door. Despite the fact that you were merely going to look for a convenience store or something similar, your anxiety spiked as though it were a dangerous mission. You could just imagine all the ways you could get caught. It was almost enough to make you stay here, slowly starving to death waiting for something to happen. Vision noticed your apprehension, however, and did the first thing that came to mind to soothe your worries. He gave you a warm smile, holding out a bent arm for you to take. He thought you might find the somewhat old-fashioned gesture funny and he was right. You laughed, taking his arm anyway. It was a nice reminder that the odds of anything bad happening were tremendously low, which you mentally repeated to yourself as you stepped outside.

-

Everything had gone off without a hitch. There was a small grocery store a few blocks down which you’d run into just before closing time so the store was nearly empty. Vision had waited outside near the ATM, which had provided the funds you needed. Other than the bored clerk at the store, you hadn’t seen so much as a single soul this whole trip. By the time you and Vision were walking back, burdened by just a few days worth of groceries (which would ideally be more than enough), your previous worries had all but melted away.

You only wished the weather matched the feeling. Nothing was melting in this cold. In fact, a few snowflakes had begun to fall. They were almost mesmerizing under the blueish haze of the streetlights, whipped into a frenzy by the faintest of gusts. The sight wasn’t enough of a distraction, however. You couldn’t help it when a shiver wracked your body, your coat not doing nearly enough to prevent it. Vision noticed this, however, and stopped you both in your tracks.

He was quick to reach for the paper and pen in his coat pocket, a look on his face of more concern than you thought necessary. It was only a little chill. “Are you cold?” The question wasn’t particularly necessary, the answer being obvious. Still, it was polite to ask.

You tried to shrug it off, noticeably tensing to suppress a second shiver. “I’m fine. Let’s just hurry back.” You turned to keep walking, knowing there was still a decent walk ahead but he stopped you, putting a hand on your arm for the briefest of seconds. He just looked at you a moment, seeming to forget about his paper. You caught the faintest hint of conflict in his expression, though you didn’t know why. “What is it, Vision?”

Realizing he’d made you worry, Vision seemed to snap back to his senses. He gave you a reassuring smile and reached for his scarf, undoing it quickly. You were facing him, standing close enough to see the circuitry in his eyes. He paused again, however, debating his next action. For a being that didn’t have nerves, he sure felt nervous and didn’t fully understand why. He moved at a pace far slower than he was used to, hesitantly wrapping the scarf around your neck for you. His touch was light as a feather as if he were afraid to touch you. You could do nothing but watch him, lost in the details of his eyes and face as your grip on the grocery bags began to loosen involuntarily.  There was a moment where neither of you moved, his hands still lingering on the loose fabric of the scarf.

Your heart skipped a beat at the gesture, mind racing to find a logical conclusion that didn’t concern such things as the vague and confusing emotions that spiked in your chest just then. It was cold, so Vision gave you his scarf. Your hands were full, so he put it on for you. But what you couldn’t answer was why he lingered the way that he did and more importantly, why your chest began to feel tight in a way that wasn’t as unpleasant as you’d think. The most sensible reason you could think of was that he was simply a gentleman, and perhaps a little unfamiliar with personal boundaries. That was the only possibility you had the strength to consider. Anything else would open doors you were afraid to even imagine.

Footsteps scraping heavily against the pavement cut the tender, if rather nerve-filled moment short. You turned toward the sound, though Vision remained facing slightly away, bowing his head somewhat in an attempt to conceal himself. You froze when a figure emerged from the alleyway; a heavy-set man whose posture listed to one side, most likely from some kind of injury. His clothes were noticeably old and ragged, most definitely not warm enough for this weather. You would’ve asked him if he needed help were it not for the knife he brandished at you.

“Look, I don’t want any trouble,” he said, his voice wavering. Funny, you were just about to say the same thing. Clearly, he wouldn’t be doing this unless he was desperate and in a bad situation. Unfortunately, you weren’t much better off. “I saw you, I know you have cash. Just hand it over and no one gets hurts.”

Under normal circumstances you would’ve complied but you’d used up pretty much all the cash you got and you couldn’t risk giving him your wallet. If your ID found its way into police hands there’d be government agents swarming this place before you ever got the chance to bail. “We don’t have any money left, I swear. Please, just walk away.” You moved slowly, setting the grocery bags on the ground and raising your hands in surrender without making any sudden movements that could set him off. You weren’t as afraid as you probably should’ve been, choosing to try and reason with the man rather than flee, which would probably be the smarter option.

The man stepped closer to you, his grip on the knife visibly tightening. He was nearly within arm’s reach now which wasn’t ideal but you held your ground. Vision caught the man’s movement out of the corner of his eye, his hand reflexively grabbing at your arm protectively. The man furrowed his brow, glancing between the two of you in confusion. At this distance, even without Vision facing him, he could almost definitely tell something was strange here. Having given you his scarf, the only things covering Vision’s face were a hat and upturned coat collar. You spoke up again, drawing the man’s attention before he could get too close of a look. “This doesn’t have to get messy. Please… ”

You weren’t sure exactly how long the three of you stood there, time frozen around you. The only things that moved were the snowflakes that had grown more frequent in the past couple minutes. The man finally shifted, albeit barely, one foot scraping harshly against the concrete as he braced himself. He glanced between you and Vision again, jaw clenched tightly. “I ain’t walking away empty-handed. I can’t. Just gimme your damn wallet.”

Vision tugged gently on your arm. You weren’t sure exactly what he was trying to say, either trying to pull you closer to him or signal that you should run. You didn’t think running was a good idea. You feared Vision’s injuries acting up again and you didn’t want to test your own speed either. You turned back to the man, desperately pleading at this point. “I can’t …”

“Then I’ll just have to take it from you.” He didn’t give you another chance to argue, immediately lunging at you haphazardly. He couldn’t even get close to hitting you, however, as Vision’s reflexes were far superior to the man’s. The android grabbed his arm, twisting it painfully to the side and forcing him to drop the knife. The man yelped and threw a punch at Vision, who dodged it easily. The man didn’t seem to understand just how drastically outmatched he was, not even now that he had a clear view of Vision’s face. Whatever was going through his head, he still seemed to think fighting was his best option. He took another swing at Vision who, up until this point, had no intention of fighting back. But he was left with few other options. He pushed back against his attacker, sending the man sprawling to the ground with a painful ‘smack’ as he hit the pavement. There was genuine fear in his eyes when he looked back up at the two of you.

“Vis, we gotta go.” It was you holding his arm now, pleading with him to leave. He nodded quickly, completely in agreement. The two of you paused only long enough to scoop up the dropped grocery bags before making your escape. The man didn’t dare follow you as you disappeared down a side street, desperate to avoid any more prying eyes. This was the exact sort of thing you’d been afraid of when you’d left the safe house. You could only hope the man kept his mouth shut about what he’d witnessed tonight but it seemed luck may not be on your side.

-

A/N:  I want to mention that I don’t personally know much ASL and had to rely on videos, etc. so if anything at all is wrong, I apologize. Feel free to call me out.

[wendystales]

Memories - lrh (Chapter Eighteen)

Memories (also on Wattpad)

Chapter Seventeen ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ Chapter Nineteen

I remember the first time I really wanted to see New York. I must have been about 12 years old and was watching a random episode of Friends that was on TV. I saw those flashes of the city between one scene and another, and I thought it was amazing, the great stone jungle.

When I turned 16, my dad gifted me with a trip to New York, not because it was my favorite place in the world, but because it was on sale. There were 10 days where the only time I stopped to rest was bedtime. We went to almost every tourist spot, took thousands of photos and it was definitely one of the best trips I've ever been on.

Now, the city that I once wanted to know and live in, like the characters in Friends, felt like a prison. I wasn't there of my own free will or for a truly irrefutable proposal. I was there out of fear and passion, the most dangerous mixture.

I believe that at some point, a few months from now, I'm going to start loving New York, but right now, I can only feel contempt.

I pass through the arrivals gate, looking at those millions of unfamiliar faces, waiting for someone. I'm looking for a sign with my name or the logo of the Hastings Agency.

I find my name in the hands of a boy a little taller than me. Dark hair and fair skin, he needs sun. In an impeccable suit, but fumbling with his cell phone and notepad.

I approach slowly, able to hear his voice, replaying a million things. He said something about waiting for me to arrive and taking me to the hotel. Something about treating me kindly and not asking questions. I stop in front of him with a sympathetic smile, watching him widen his eyes and quickly turn off his cell phone.

“Miss McGonagall, welcome to New York.” he takes my hand, squeezing it and shaking it quickly. “I'm Edward. I will be responsible for your schedule.” I can't control the smile, noticing him nervousness. In other words, he was my Noah.

“Hi! Yeah, you can call me Marnie, that's fine. I prefer, actually.”

“Oh! Of course.” his cheeks turn pink. “Well, I'll drop you off at the hotel to rest and tomorrow at 8:00 am you should be at Valentino's studio for the rehearsal of the new bag collection. At 2:45 pm you should already be at Chanel's studio, they want to take your measurements and do some color and fabric tests for the fashion show at the end of the month. Then, at 5:00 pm, you will participate in the E! podcast, and I believe that after that you will be free for the rest of the day.” he passes it on to me as we head out of the airport.

“OK!” that's all I have to say.

“Sorry if I'm being nosy, but were you the one who required a lot of work for the next two months? I mean, you have a really busy schedule. If you don't want something, I can try to help.” he flips through the calendar while we wait for a car.

“No! It's OK. I was the one who asked. I was down for a while and I need to get back to work.” I give a slight smile, debating. "Hm, was the doctor I asked for by any chance be marked?"

“Yes! Wednesday at 3pm.” he smiles proudly, making me smile too. Edward seems like a nice guy.

We got into a silver car and went to the hotel. Along the way, Edward answers a few calls, closing in on his tasks. I seize the moment and close myself in my own world. I get my cell phone, turning it on and seeing that tsunami of people looking for me. Missed calls, messages, dm on twitter and instagram, everyone looking for me, but not him.

I lock my cell phone, trying to focus my mind on the new beginning I sought for myself. I admire the city through the car window, trying to find a piece of home there. I feel the phone vibrate in my lap with Kyleen's name, but I just decline the call. In seconds, the screen lights up again and several messages come in, I believe they are hers, but I don't even bother to look. I have no courage.

The car stops in front of the Intercontinental, and just like that, Edward jumps out of the car.

“Your loft, unfortunately, is not ready yet. So you're going to have to stay here for a few days.” he explains, heading towards the reception desk.

I stand behind him, taking in the details of the hotel. Before long, I'm entering a room on the 14th floor, with a beautiful view of the city. The bags are left in the small room before the bedroom.

I smile at my new “Noah” showing that everything is perfect.

“Good! I'll let you rest for tomorrow. Anything, these are my phones.” he gives me a card. "And you can call me at any time. I live near here, I will come in a few minutes.”

“Thank you so much, Edward. You are very kind." Again, your cheeks turn pink.

As he heads for the door, I start rummaging through my bags for pajamas.

“Hm, sorry if I'm not being professional right now, but since I believe we'll be working together in the next few months, I imagine a good relationship is essential, so you can call me Eddie.”

I open an even bigger smile, seeing that Eddie was willing to make a friendship, which is perhaps the thing I need most at the moment.

“Thanks, Eddie!” he smiles and this time he walks away, leaving me alone again.

I go back to looking for a more comfortable outfit, ignoring my cell phone blinking on the table as I muted it. I grab my clothes, heading to a shower and stay there for a long time, letting the water take everything.

When I get out of the shower, I pick up the bedroom phone, dialing my mother's number, I don't want to take the risk of answering any of my cell phone calls.

"Hello?" her lost tone makes me smile weakly.

“Hi Mom!”

“Hi, my love. How are you? Marnie, what's going on? Leah came here to say you left without saying goodbye. I called Luke, but he did not answer me and Noah said something about you being to move to New York, you told me it would be just a month.” I cover the phone, not wanting her to hear my cry, letting the tears fall. "Marnie?"

“I'm sorry, Mom.” I can't control my voice and pretend it's okay.

“Honey, what's going on? You can tell me. Mom will help you.” I realize she wants to cry too, and that hurts me more.

“I needed to do this, needed to get away from him.” the revelation comes out before I can see it.

"He who? Luke? Why? I thought everything was fine.” her desperate tone returns.

“I'm sorry I can't talk.” I close my throat, holding back tears. “I just want to let you know that I arrived well and that everything is fine.”

“Fine? Marnie, just look at your voice, your condition. I saw what you did to the apartment. Honey, things aren't fine.” now she was angry.

“Mom, please just trust me. I know what I'm doing.” Do I? I clear my throat, holding back the emotion. “I just wanted to call to say I got okay. Later we'll talk.” I hang up the phone before she asks anything else.

I head to the bathroom, drying my hair. I notice that yesterday's anger is still in me as I can't face my image in the mirror, refusing to look deep into my eyes.

With dry hair, I go back to my room, thinking about taking a nap, since I haven't slept all night and even less on the flight. I close my eyes, trying to focus my thoughts on something else. I think about that taxi I saw earlier, trying to park. Or people crossing the street without looking at the sign. At the cookie shop I want to see.

I manage to evade Luke's, my mother's, John's, and Noah's voices, giving myself more and more to the sleep that finally came. Far away, I hear someone knocking hard on the door, but I ignore it, as I had the same thoughts yesterday morning. But I wake up when the pounding comes back stronger and Leah's voice enters the room.

“Marnie Elizabeth McGonagall, open this shit now before I drop it and you know I'm capable of it.” I leap out of bed, running to the door.

She can’t be here.

I open the door, revealing Leah with perhaps the worst expression I've ever seen in the world. She was furious, if not more so. As she storms into my room without waiting for an invitation, I quickly look down the hall, seeing a couple look at me startled. I smile awkwardly, closing the door.

“What are you doing here?” I question, still not understanding.

"What are you doing here? And without warning anyone. Fading in the morning. Breaking up with Luke. What the fuck was that?” she screams.

For a second, I see that my amnesia was an issue with my plan. By not remembering my friendship with everyone, I really believed that I just left and everything would be fine. I didn't imagine anyone would cross the country for me, to understand what was going on.

And if Leah did it, it's a matter of hours before someone else does. They weren't going to leave me alone, they weren't going to forget me, and they weren't going to let this story pass. I need to push them away, but I don't know how.

"Go on, Marnie. What the fuck is going on? And if you tell me it's a job offer, I swear I'll fly at you without pity or mercy, and I'll slap the truth out.” she cross her arms.

I consider the last option a lot because I know she can do it. But I won't tell her the truth, that's not an alternative. I want to believe that if I don't back off, she'll see I'm not lying and won't attack me. And even if she tries, I just run away, I'm closer to the door and there's an armchair between us.

"But it is what it is!" I shrug.

“Stop it!” she screams. “Stop lying, Marnie. Everyone. Everyone knows you're lying, so why don't you tell the truth?” she waves her hands through the air.

“Because there's no other truth, Leah. Will I have to draw it for you?” I make the same moves she does.

“Be my guest!” she sits on the couch. I sigh wearily. I haven't slept for hours, I'm angry with myself and the world and now that I thought the situation was resolved and I just had to go on with my life, she comes and messes everything up.

“Why are you here?” I stay upright.

“I do not know! It must be cause you went crazy and disappeared without saying anything. Didn't answer my calls, no one had any answers about what was going on. So I took my father's jet and came to resolve this situation and I don't leave here without an answer at least.”

In the same way I laugh at Noah, I laugh at her, thinking it will fix everything. Leah carries the same expression as her brother, neutral, mocking.

“Why did you break up with Luke?” she asks quietly.

The mention of his name makes me shiver. I notice how my stomach turns and try to ignore it. I wonder if I can subtly extract some information from his state, but I don't want her to think I still care about him.

"Cause I wasn't in the mood anymore." I shrug, walking through space.

“My God, you've actually lied better.” I glare at her. “You know you're in trouble here, I know you better than anyone. I know you are lying and that you are going through some difficult situation. I even have my theories. So you're going to have to work a lot harder to trick me or get me out of here.” she cracks a smile, feeling victorious.

"Oh do you have? What are your theories?” I mock her.

“The first is that you really freaked out with amnesia and you can't handle it. The second is that you can't handle your feelings about Luke, it happened once before. And the third is that someone put some shit in your head and made you believe that everything would be better if you were out of the way.” I feel her gaze burning into me, looking for any reaction.

I let out a laugh, not forced, nervous that she got it right. Leah raises an eyebrow.

“You really traveled on your theories. Sorry, none are right.”

As if by magic, the answer appears to me. The only way I was going to get rid of everyone and go through with the plan without a hitch was to make her hate me. Make everyone hate me, just like I did Luke.

Just considering their hate for me makes my heart ache. But I need to do this. For Luke. For the boys. It's for their success.

“You know, a few months ago you were asked to be in a movie and you didn't take it cause you said you were a terrible actress. Isn't that right?” she gets up again. “Noah told me you said you were doing this for Luke, because you loved him. Marnie, what are you trying to hide?” she comes closer.

I feel dirty because of the attitude I'm going to take. It's low, very low, but I need her to hate me.

"Look who talks about hiding." I give a cynical laugh. Leah looks at me confused. "Don't you have anything to tell too?" she still doesn't understand. “You and Kyleen?”

Hastings freezes. The bitter taste of my act starts to fill my mouth. I’m sorry, Leah. I’m so sorry.

“How do you know?” she takes a step back.

"Who do you think closed the bathroom door on Ash's birthday?" I raise my eyebrows.

“Is not the same thing.”

“It isn’t? Aren't you hiding something from all of us?” I force a smile like hers a few minutes ago.

“No! Cause I'm not pushing everyone away, I'm not telling lies. And if you asked me, I would tell you the truth. Deep down, you know why I didn't say anything. You know my dad hasn't accepted Noah yet, that this is a problem in our family, and you know he wouldn't accept me either. You know that deep down I'm trying to protect both of us.”

“Oh! Do I?” I debauchery more. Right now, I feel horrible when I see your eyes water. I'm so, so sorry.

“I know what you're trying to do and I'm not going to stage it.” she walks past me to the door.

"Didn't you want to talk? I am talking.” Leah turns to me, straining the knife I carried in my chest, letting me see her crying face.

“You're trying to make me hate you.” now I'm the one who freezes. She laughs. “See how I know you? You are very predictable, Marnie. And as much as I know of your intention, I will not allow you to reach your goal. I hope that one day, not too far away, you realize what a big shit you're doing.” she opens the door, going. “Oh, and before I forget, since it's meant to hurt. Congrats, since your little chat with Luke, he's been locked in his room, needing Michael to keep an eye on him.” so Leah slams the door and strikes the final blow.

I bite the inside of my mouth, letting the tears fall. Honestly, I didn't even have the strength to hold back anymore. The rage burning inside me gives way to pain. I imagine Luke locked in his room, lying on the bed, hating me. Hating what we had and what we thought we had.

I walk over to my suitcase, pulling out a package, with the photos I'd taken from the box and the little white box he'd given me. I open it, holding the necklace with his name on it, the one he gave me.

Even knowing what I had to do, I wouldn't get rid of this necklace, I don't have the courage. It was easier to buy an equal one and put it in his hand. What he did to me would be kept with me forever.

““Closed eyes.” he fights.

"I have my eyes closed." I rebate. “Lucas…” I chide him, when I feel his lips on the back of my neck.

“Sorry, I got distracted.” I hold back the urge to laugh. “Closed eyes.”

"If you say it one more time, you'll get hit." I threat.

"How, if you can't see me?" right now, the urge to hit him is so strong that I follow the sound of his voice, trying to kick him. “Hey! No rudeness, otherwise you'll be left without a gift.” the false authoritative tone makes me angrier. “Good girl!”

“Go!” I kicked.

I'm startled by the icy touch against my neck. It's a necklace. Eagerly, I touch the pendant, recognizing the shape. He didn't do it.

“You can open it.” his hands move to my hips, hugging me.

With my eyes open, I run my vision to my neck, finding there a necklace just like his but blue.

“Happy Birthday!” he drops a kiss on my cheek.

I hold the blue quartz, seeing Luke's name engraved on the back. I let a stupid smile spread across my face, glaring at my boyfriend with the same.

"Want to explain why we're wearing practically identical necklaces?"

“It's a little obvious. Couples wear rings and I know what a problem you have with rings.”

“It’s not a problem.” I try to defend myself.

“It's just Alzheimer's. You know, in some people, it starts before they're 70 years old.” I hit him, and he laughs, before he hugs me. "Like I was saying, I know you're not into wearing a ring, so since I already had my necklace, I thought you'd have yours. That way we'll always be close to each other's hearts.” I rest my hands on his shoulders, standing on tiptoes.

"Have I told you I love you today?" I whisper, moving closer.

“Not after 5 pm.” he pouted, looking at the clock on the wall.

I don't know how I managed to kiss him with such a stupid smile on my face.

“Why do I like you, huh?” I question, stealing a little kiss.

“Because I'm cheesy and romantic. And even if you deny it, I know you get attached to it.” he opens a victorious smile.

"Don't ever say 'get attached' again." I beg laughing.

"What is it, bae? That was awesome.” he laughs.

“No!” I scream, laughing.

"What is it, babe girl? Don't you stick to my way of get in?” he keeps teasing me.

I place my lips on yours, determined to shut your mouth and thank you that it works. My mental reminder of “we're late for dinner” evaporates when his hands reach under my shirt. I scratch the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

“We're late for dinner.” he says against my mouth as I start to unbutton his shirt.

“Just say the traffic was like hell.” I suggest kissing his neck.

Luke accepts the idea, picking me up and walking me back to the bedroom."

It's not hard to know that we were late for dinner that day. But I didn't care, I had been given a necklace with his name on it, a necklace that showed how our relationship was getting more and more serious.

I also realize that the two times I got this necklace, at least once I ended up in bed with him. In fact, in both, but only one made it to the end.

“I hate myself.” I say tiredly, going to the minibar to get anything containing alcohol that makes me forget everything.

I call the front desk for two bottles of champagne and the biggest snack they have. I pick up the small whiskey bottles, turning one after the other, as if they were shot. I shake my head, wanting the effect to start faster.

“I hate myself. Leah hates me. Kiki must hate me now too. Just like Noah and everyone else there. Everybody hates me.” I turn the last one over, shaking my head once more. “Luke hates me. Hates me too much.” I comment, hugging the pillow.

I pick up a Polaroid of ours, staring at our happiness marked there. What am I doing?

I throw my head in my hands, lost. I wonder what might happen if I crawl into bed and don't go out for the rest of the month. Probably more people will hate me, but who doesn't hate me now? I mean, just get in line.

Awakened from the thought, when someone knocks on the door. For a second, I wonder who it was, then remember I ordered room service. I walk to the door, feeling the weight of the six small bottles.

My stomach churns and I feel an overwhelming urge to vomit as I land my eyes on the redhead in front of me. Red-haired?

"Bethany?"

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE, MORE BLOOD Vol.12 Mukami Ruki [Track 5 + Epilogue]

Original title: 暴かれた罪 & エピローグ

Source: Diabolik Lovers More, More Blood Vol. 12 Mukami Ruki [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here & here

Seiyuu: Takahiro Sakurai

Translator’s note: God this CD was so mentally draining. > < This final track in particular, Ruki is just so...evil. I feel like this has surpassed the level of ‘sadism’ and he really just wants to make the MC’s life a living hell. :’’) He even literally says it a few times. I honestly can’t help but feel like this Ruki was kind of OOC and I know at least one Ruki stan who would agree with me. xD

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5 + Epilogue

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 5: Exposed Sin

*Ding dong・ Ding dong*

You rush towards the library.

*Rattle*

“...You’re late! How long did you intend to keep me waiting?”

You apologize.

“Oh well. I shall give you credit for coming here running at least. Hurry up and get inside.”

You enter the room.

“You seem cautious. Shouldn’t it be obvious why I called you to the library? I helped you look for resources the other day, and today I’ll have you return the favor. Search for the book with this title.”

Ruki hands you a piece of paper.

*Flip*

“Someone borrowed it for an extended period of time. I heard it had been returned to the library but I can’t find it anywhere. Even the librarian was left puzzled. You shall help me find it as well. Please look through the book shelves in this row. I’ll be looking over on this side.”

You nod.

“A clever response. Bring it to me as soon as you find it. It is a very valuable book. Do not damage it by mistake.”

You start looking around for the book.

*Rustle rustle*

“I heard there’s a seal imprinted on the spine of the book, so you should be able to tell which one is the right one as soon as you spot it. “

*Rustle*

You find the book.

“You’ve already found it? I’m impressed. Treat it with care. I won’t go easy on you if you were to fold one of the pages.”

You grab hold of the book, accidentally dropping all the pages.

“Oi...!? What are you doing...!?”

Ruki stomps over to you.

“The pages are all over the place...What did you do to it!?”

You try and explain. 

“Are you trying to make up excuses? Seems like you don’t feel any guilt towards the blunder you just committed. In that case, it cannot be helped. I shall teach it to your body directly.”

You pull out the hourglass.

*Cling*

*Tick tock - Tick tock - Tick tock - Tick tock*

ーーー

...

“I heard there’s a seal imprinted on the spine of the book, so you should be able to tell which one is the right one as soon as you spot it. “

You sigh in relief.

“What’s wrong? Why do you seem so relieved? I don’t remember giving you permission to take a break? ...Huh?”

Ruki walks over to you.

“It’s right in front of you. This is the one. The book I’ve been looking for.”

You try and stop him. 

“What’s wrong? Should I not grab it?”

You explain.

“What are you saying? You claim that the pages have become loose and will fall out? That is ridiculous.”

He takes the book off the shelf. 

“Just as I thought, they had it amongst their collection. It has been preserved in great condition as well.”

*Flip*

Your eyes widen in surprise.

“What’s wrong? It looks as if your eyes are going to pop out. ...You said the pages would fall out, no? As you can see, as long as you flip them carefully, there’s no risks involved at all.”

*Flip*

“After all...I’m the one who set this all up.

Your heart stops for a second.

“I put an aged book here on purpose; I should be the only one aware though.”

He walks towards you. 

“Of the fact that the book’s binder has broken, so the pages will come falling out. ...So how did you know?”

You flinch.

“The reason is easy. You have used the hourglass once already, haven’t you? That is how you rewinded time, and erased your mistake. Judging by your reaction, this has not been the first time you did so either. These past few days, you have been looping time over and over, haven’t you? I thought something was off, but I finally figured you out. ...I assume you did something which upset me? What exactly did you do?”

You hurriedly pull out the hourglass.

*Rustle rustle*

“You really believe I’d let you use it? I will take this back.”

*Cling*

“Such beautiful red sand. Its decorations truly are sublime as well. However, the magic energy has decreased quite a bit. ...How many times did you rewind? How many times were you punished by me, but rendered it void?”

You remain quiet.

“I can make an estimate even if you don’t give me an answer. Enough times for the magic to be this drained at least. It seems like you need to be punished.”

You try and defend yourself.

“Aah. I did say that, did I not? That I was curious how you would use it. However, using it to cover up your own mistakes is simply inexcusable. You concealed your own mishaps, deceiving those around you...As someone who once read the Bible, I am sure you know just how severe of a sin that is. You must atone for your sins. In that case, I shall lend you a helping hand. ...You were aware, weren’t you? Every time you turned back time, you were the only one who retained your memories. To me...This is the first time I’ve disciplined you in quite some time.

*Rustle*

“I shall teach you thoroughly. From head to toe.”

Ruki bites you.

*Sluuuuurp*

*Gulp gulp*

“Haah...What’s wrong? Have you become worked up because it has been a while since I sucked your blood? ...No, that’s wrong. I suppose that isn’t quite correct. You’ve been rewinding time again and again, haven’t you? Going back, doing things over, but those memories are burnt inside your mind. Did you never consider this? If you were to rewind time, the wounds left on your body would heal, but the pain you received from my fangs remains vivid in your memory. Unharmed skin, striking pain...No wonder your brain would become confused. If you were to repeat this process over and over, you might even go crazy.”

Your face goes pale.

“You only just realized? How foolish. You have been using the hourglass only to cover up your mistakes, haven’t you? However, you should have take notice of the weight of your actions. Well then, now that you understand...I shall give you a gift.”

*Cling*

“The red sand is almost like sand. ...This time, I shall use it.”

*Rustle*

“I shall rewind time and give you my fangs. Then repeat the process over and over. Your mind will slowly become numb from the continuous pain and pleasure. I am sure you can imagine what will happen to you if I keep on rewinding time, piling one memory on top of the other? Your disoriented mind will gradually begin to break. The overwhelming pleasure will make you go insane. You will surely...grow mad.”

You look at him in horror.

“What is wrong? You seem rather pale. You don’t mind, do you? You are the one who already used this hourglass plenty of times. I am sure I would have gone mad at some point as well. Well then, it seems like you understand what I have in store for you. I shall rewind time for us. Break for all I care!”

 You beg for his mercy.

“Hmph. Now that’s a lovely cry. I can’t deny that seeing you thoroughly terrified like that does something to me. I see. So you want me to stop, huh? Why don’t you get down on your knees and plea? You might just be able to change my mind.”

You grovel in front of him. 

*Rustle*

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it...Seems like your own identity as livestock has really sunken in. Although I suppose that only makes sense. I am the one who tamed you after all. However, it seems like you still fail to understand one thing. Have I ever gone easy on you in the middle of a discipline session?”

You flinch.

“Ah, seems like you remembered. You’ve become a little more clever at least. Seeing you tremble in despair is not a bad sight at all. Well then...Have a taste of Hell...”

*Tick tock - Tick tock - Tick tock - Tick tock*

ーーー

...

“I see. So this is how you’ve been rewinding time? Your skin is still untouched. It has indeed returned to its previous state, before I pierced it with my fangs. For the sake of your training, I made sure your memories remain intact. Do you remember what I was doing to you up until just now?”

You look at Ruki in fear.

“That look on your face makes for a fine reply. Furthermore, I can pick up the sweet scent of your blood, even though I have yet to bite you. It must be rather rough to be so worked up, no? No matter where I touch you now, it should make for an overwhelming stimulus.”

He steps closer.

“Shall we put it to the test? Just from running my fingers from your throat to your collarbone...”

*Rustle*

“Just as I thought. Simply carressing your skin makes the strong sensations eat away at you. How does it feel to slowly feel your body erode from the surface of your skin? On top of that...This should be nowhere near satisfying in your current state. The stronger the sensation becomes, the easier it will be to use this as a tool to manipulate you. I suppose I shall toy with you like this a little longer. Your arm or your back...Where else do you want me to touch you?”

Ruki paces around you.

“I have to give you an even stronger stimulus.”

You whimper in distress.

“You seem to be having a hard time. To show me such a shameless side of you, it seems like I have not yet disciplined you enough.”

*Smooch*

You squeak.

“I guess you are nearing your limit? Very well. I’ll suck you from behind this time.”

*Rustle rustle*

He bites you again.

*Sluuuurp*

“Mmh...Nn...”

*Gulp*

“Nn...Haah...Such lovely cries...The taste of your blood isn’t bad either. I can tell that your whole body has become heated. Ah, you are already starting to feel faint? Rest assured. We still have plenty of time...”

*Cling*

*Tick tock - Tick tock - Tick tock - Tick tock*

ーーー

...

“This works.”

You tilt your head to the side.

“Do you not understand? I turned back time. Your body is still unscathed. Like this, you won’t fall unconscious due to blood loss, right? Of course, the pain and pleasure you experienced still remain in your memory.”

You beg for him to stop.

“Not a bad cry at all. However, I shall not stop turning back time until your punishment is over. You are aware, aren’t you? You will only break free from this Hell, the moment you go mad. ...Hurry up and lose your mind already. If you want this suffering to end, that is.”

Ruki bites you again.

“Mmh...Nn...Fufu...Haah...Aah...I suppose I shouldn’t call it ‘suffering’. I suppose pleasure is already the only thing you can feel. Your eyes have lost focus. I doubt you can even still properly pick up my voice...Even your mouth is slacked...Mmh...”

*Smooch*

“What’s wrong? Is this not enough for you? Very well, I shall give it to you. I shall cover you with the marks of my fangs from head to toe. No matter how hard-handedly I treat you, all I need to do is rewind time afterwards. So I can do with this body of yours as I please...Ah, but I suppose it’ll stick in your memories. The intense pain, as well as the pleasure, crystal clear. Seems like you will be in quite the pinch once I rewind. I wonder how long you will be able to remain sane? Please rest assured. I don’t plan on giving you relief any time soon.”

He leans in.

“...I want you to suffer, between sanity and insanity.”

Track 6: Epilogue

*Rustle*

“...So you’ve lost consciousness? Isn’t that a little soon? Your body should still be overflowing with blood. There is just no way you would faint already. Of course, even if you do, I could simply rewind time. However...You better don’t think I will let you go mad so easily. I don’t plan on giving you relief after just one time. Your sin for deceiving me is grave. I shall engrave it deep inside your body, just how foolish and shameless you have been. ...So you can properly atone.”

*Rustle*

“Well then...It is time to wake up. I wonder how I should punish you next? Although, I am sure that whatever I do, it will be like pure torture to you.”

He paces around you.

“I am very much looking forward...to seeing you suffer in Hell.”

*Cling*

*Thud*

ーー THE END ーー

--> PROCEED TO ANOTHER STORY [DELUXE EDITION ONLY]

[ilguna]

Anteric - Chapter Nine (f.o)

summary: secrets have more worth than you gave them credit for.

warnings; swearing. MURDER PLOT, MURDER, SUICIDE MENTION SEVERAL TIMES.

wc; 9.3k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

The next four days follow the same nightmarish pattern of facing your fears early in the morning, and then wielding a gun or a knife in the evening. You think that Caspian and Laurel are really testing fate by allowing a group of unstable teenagers near anything dangerous. 

Sure, all of you have to be prepared to be able to wield a gun and defend yourselves in hard situations. But you wouldn’t say that it’s the brightest idea ever, too. You’re not entirely convinced that some of your fears correspond to shooting directly after. The only exception in this case, would be the one where you’ve watched Finnick die.

Despite all of this, you think that you’re beginning to get a hang of the fear-facing, to the point where you’ve managed to increase your time to five minutes. While everyone else works hard to make their time smaller and smaller, you’ve been trying to go against the current to make yourself look less suspicious.

You’ve figured that it’s easier to calm yourself down once you realize which fear you’re in. It’s only the four that repeat themselves, being buried alive, watching someone bleed out and die, and being trapped in an enclosed space with spiders. The easiest of them being buried alive, mainly because it’s not as hands-on.

You’re not forced to save someone, drowning in their blood as you try to cover wounds that will only become insignificant in the end. As more and more appear on the other’s body, screwing your focus and making you forget that you’re in a simulation. And you aren’t aware of the fact that you have to keep moving around for as long as you can without being covered in the spiders.

With the coffin, there’s no imminent danger, no real threat is hanging above you, besides the sure. Sure, you’re being buried alive, the dirt will eventually end up suffocating you. Yet, it’s not chaotic. You’re not fighting anything, you’re just forced to sit in darkness, feign some fright for a while, and then you’re free. If you were being buried without the coffin, that might be a different story. But that isn’t your fear, the coffin is a detail for a reason.

The others don’t seem to be as lucky as you are. They’re stuck in the same loop of facing their fears, and not knowing what to do after. At least you can say that your nightmares aren’t making your skin crawl anymore. For them, they shake when someone asks what they’ve gone through, and wake up screaming at night.

However, there are a few of you who are outshining the others. And it seems to be the people who hadn’t done too well during the first stage of initiation that’re getting the hang of this one. Which is a shame, because their progress isn’t really going to pay off until the final stage, when they beat the rest.

The few that you’ve noticed are Sydney, Nestor and Cass. They act a little differently than the others do. Sydney and Nestor have always been laid back. You can’t really say the same for Cass, since you don’t know her as well. But they definitely have a different attitude when they go into the room, compared to someone like Thyme.

Then there are the people who are naturally good or bad at the simulations, and it’s typically hard to tell which is which. Like Laurel told you, your friends are close to the twenty minute range, and as far as you know, you’re the only outlier. You can always time people on your watch, but it’s not the same, not really.

Anyway, it’s been about four days since you’ve so much as glanced at Finnick in front of Thyme. It was a smart move to make, because she might have started off stiff, but she’s officially cooled down. She’ll still glare at you occasionally, then again she was doing that before the party, so it’s not a surprise or a change of routine.

Because of that, the only times you’ve gotten to talk to Finnick was in bits and pieces when Thyme wasn’t around. Which was practically never, considering that she attached to him like a parasite and doesn’t let go. You’d hardly be able to get a full sentence in before she came around again. Laurel wasn’t much help either, she didn’t give you any accidental golden chances either.

The more time passed, the more anxious you got over the fact that Finnick might have been thinking that you were backtracking. You were making no real effort to get alone time, not to mention you felt like your grasp was slipping. You said so yourself, you had Finnick in your hold. And leaving him with Thyme for four days all alone might change things.

In order to finally ease the stress that’s been eating away at you, you went ahead and sealed the leap of faith. It’s taken you four days to finally come to terms with the fact that you have to tell Finnick that you’re Divergent, whether you like it or not. You can tell yourself that it’s an unnecessary risk, and that he might already have some biased ideas somehow. But the truth is, you won’t know until you try.

A slight problem is you didn’t get to invite Finnick to the chasm before Laurel called you into the fear room. So, you had to ask Laurel for a favor, which was to call Finnick in next and send him through the second door in the room that will bring him to the dark hallway. It’ll be completely out of the way of Thyme, you won’t have to worry about accidentally running into her on the way to the chasm.

Fortunately for you, today you had to be locked in a coffin underground, so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. You hope that the same goes for Finnick, because you really would like him to be in the right headspace before you go ahead and dump your biggest secret onto his shoulders. You don’t want it to end up being the last straw that does it.

You twist your wrist towards your face, making the watch light up in the hallway. If you’ve been tracking the time correctly, it’s coming in fifteen minutes. You should have another five to go, and even that might be an overestimation. 

You yawn, cracking your knuckles before getting to your feet. The last time you jumped out at Finnick from the wall, you scared him pretty bad, so you’re not entirely sure if there’s a way to get around it this time. There’s no lantern for you to steal from the wall, not that you’re sure if you’ll be able to do that, anyway.

About a minute or so later, the door finally opens. You emerge from the wall, standing off to the side of the hallway with your arms crossed. There’s just enough light from the room to light you up, so Finnick spots you easily. 

He has one hand reached up and placed over the spot where Laurel injects the serums. For a second, his eyebrows draw in like he’s confused, but then a smile slowly comes onto his face. You lean around Finnick to thank Laurel, she’s already holding a hand up, and then shoos you.

You hold out your hand for Finnick to take, and you watch as he takes it. You pull him along, he lets the door slip shut behind him with a gentle click. The hallway falls back into a pitch black, and you’re left to guide Finnick. You remember when it was the other way around, with you relying on him to warn you of where you step.

“What are we doing today?” he asks, “Another secret party?”

At the thought of your confession, an ache starts in your chest. If only it were something fun, “No, I think I’m going to tell you everything today.” With the exception of one thing, one little thing that doesn’t exactly have any connection to the blackmailing problem.

“Oh.” he says, you’re not sure you’d have anything to say in response to that, either.

The hallway finally splits into two, you head off to the right. It’s only a hundred or so more feet when you begin to hear the rushing water. You have to swallow to ease the growing tension in your throat. Finnick should be fine, you’ve known him a long time. He’ll give you a chance to explain yourself before judgement.

At least, you hope he will.

You let go of his hand in the doorway, continuing to your spot on your own. To the same place you stood last time you spoke to him. This time, you don’t lean against the railing. Knowing you, you’ll get caught up in the conversation and end up falling off backward.

Finnick resumes his spot across from you on the wall.

You have to remind yourself to take deep breaths, “I need you to listen all the way before you make any judgement calls, okay?”

You don’t want to look at him, this will be so much easier if you don’t look.

“Okay,” he agrees.

You know where to start, you’ve rehearsed this exact moment several times, thought up every single possibility. You found the best way to explain why, all you have to do is start speaking.

You swallow.

“It starts with the aptitude test,” you begin, eyes focused on the toe of your shoes. Is this too far back? No, it’s where the root lies, “Normally people get a straightforward result, but I got inconclusive.” you have to look at his face, it’s neutral besides his eyebrows, “Which means that I didn’t place for just one faction, I placed for three. Abnegation, Erudite and Dauntless.”

You pause for a moment, letting him process this. You feel like you’re speaking too slowly, he isn’t a baby. But this is new to him, right?

“How?” he asks, the confusion is setting in.

“Um,” you're hyper aware of your shaking hands, “Well, the choices in the aptitude test are supposed to eliminate a faction each stage. The cheese was for Amity, and the knife was for Dauntless. I chose the knife, so that’s a Dauntless oriented response. But I was vulnerable to the dog, which is Erudite thinking. Then I threw myself in front of the dog, bringing out Abnegation.

“Candor was ruled out when I didn’t tell the truth, and Erudite and Dauntless were brought up again when I posed some stupid question and stood up for myself. And technically it wasn’t a conditioned Abnegation response, either.” You lace your fingers together, “I hold equal aptitude for Abnegation, Dauntless and Erudite. The term for it is Divergent.”

Now you hold your breath, watching the gears turn in his head. You’ll be patient, let him come to conclusions on his own. Maybe he’ll suddenly solve the Thyme problem on his own, only allowing you to fill the gaps. Maybe he won’t, and he’ll demand more information.

The silence is overwhelming, “My legal result is Abnegation.”

His eyes flicker to you, “Why do you say Divergent as if it’s a bad thing?”

You think you’ll cry, “Because I can be killed for it if people find out.” 

Finnick understands, you can tell by the way he goes rigid, “You’re not kidding?”

“No.” 

Please don’t start running. Please don’t have ill intentions. Please say that you’ll keep it a secret.

“Okay, I can understand why you’ve been like this,” he slumps slightly, a frown coming over his face.

You know what he’s thinking, “Finnick, don’t think that I don’t trust you,” you move forward a little, “I don’t…” you take another deep breath, “A lot of people know right now, and my worst nightmare has already happened.”

He’s still watching you, “Like what?”

A metallic taste spreads over your tongue, “You asked if Thyme said anything to me, and I said yes,” your throat is closing, “You remember that?”

He nods.

“Well, when our families came to visit, Mox and his small family came and visited me,” Finnick raises his eyebrows, he must’ve missed them, “Just before they left, Mox told me that Caspian knows I’m Divergent, and he’ll look out for me. Then he told me that these two stages of initiation are going to be easy, because of the way my brain works so I need to be careful not to get caught, whatever.

“I went to leave the area that we talked in, and Thyme had overheard everything.” Your eyes find Finnick’s face again.

And he is bright red, eyebrows turned down, “What did she say?”

“She said that if I don’t stay away from you, she’ll tell everyone I’m Divergent.”

He doesn’t move for a long moment, jawline becoming more obvious each time he grits his teeth. His eyes cast towards the path you have to take to get away from the chasm.

You feel like crying, this is the exact reaction you were looking for. Anger because the person that’s been playing sweetheart and hanging off his arm has secretly been blackmailing you for a week.

“Is that all?”

No.

“Yes.”

There’s something else that you need to tell him.

“Does she know that they’ll kill you for it?”

You shrug slightly, “It’s Thyme we’re talking about, do you really think she’d care about that?”

“Probably not.” he mumbles.

You scuff your shoe against the rocks, pressing your lips together. You should tell him, do it real quick to get it out of the way. You’ve already spoken about so much, what’s one more?

When you open your mouth, the words lodge themselves in your throat, refusing to move. You settle for sighing instead.

He catches this, raising his eyebrows, “What’s wrong? Is there something else?” 

Tell him.

“No, I told you everything.”

Finnick doesn’t lessen his gaze. 

Just tell him you like him.

You smile, he doesn’t smile back, continuing to wait.

You’ve told him so much already, what’s one more?

“Come on, (Y/n),”

What if he doesn’t feel the same?

Silence.

It’s a chance you have to take.

You clear your throat.

No, you’re going to ruin recently established peace.

“I just wanted to apologize for the final fight, is all.”

What a lie.

Finnick doesn’t believe you, he turns his head to the side a little.

You shrug again, “I didn’t want to bring it up because I don’t want to bring up things in the past if you aren’t bothered by them.” you play with your fingers, trying to figure where to go next. Then you realize that there is a problem that you left unsaid, “Ah, right, I remember now.

“Besides the obvious reason why I was mad at you, I realized something during the fight which made it a whole lot worse,” you rub the back of your neck, trying to ease the growing tension, “You--um--you see me as an equal, right? Cause for a second, I was convinced you thought of me as lesser and that doesn’t… sit right with me…”

Finnick’s got his eyebrows screwed in, “An equal?”

“Yeah, like we’re on the same level ground and I’m not in some ditch or whatever.”

His face twists, “I’m sorry, but shouldn’t this had been in the meaningless conversation the other day?”

You open your mouth, eyebrows in. Once he starts laughing, you snap your mouth shut.

“I’m kidding, of course we’re on the same page.” he grins, showing his teeth, “I mean, if we weren’t, we wouldn’t be friends, would we?”

You purse your lips, “I guess not.”

“You guess?” he laughs again, “Anyway, I don’t care about the fight. You won fair and square, even though you were definitely hyped up on adrenaline.”

You smile.

Finnick eyes the hallway for a moment, the humor slowly fading from his face, “So what are we going to do about Thyme?”

Your heart twists when you hear the word ‘we’, “There’s no real way to get her to shut up, Finnick. Unless we somehow make her get cut during stage three.” you clench your teeth, “All my ideas have been permanent and illegal.”

He nods, “I can see why.”

“It’s a lifelong thing she can hold over me.”

“You can always tell Caspian.”

“He already knows,” you lean your head back and watch as Finnick looks at you, “You know when you caught me that morning getting ready super early?”

Finnick nods.

“Yeah, well, the leaders of Dauntless and our trainers will eat breakfast way before everyone else so that they can discuss initiation and stuff. So I got Caspian away from them and told him about Thyme, and he said he can’t help me anymore because Thyme accused him of interfering so he really needs to back off.”

You crack a smile, “Actually, he told me that I should tell you the truth about everything and have you work with me to find some solution. The problem is that he can’t know what I want to do with her, and he told me not to be too brash but it’s not like I have a choice.”

“We,” Finnick corrects, “It’s not like we have a choice.”

You give him a soft smile, “Right, we.”

Finnick stretches, arms above his head, letting out a groan, “I’m going to go ahead and guess that your plan includes murder.”

“Honestly, it was my first thought when she made me agree to it on Visiting Day.”

“And I don’t really see any other option besides beating her up and throwing her to the streets, but she’ll just tell the factionless that you’re…” he doesn’t say the word, eyebrows furrowing, “...and that would be the end of it.”

“Yup.”

He makes a face, “We should probably think it over some more.”

“That works, I guess,” you check your watch, thirty minutes have passed since the beginning of the conversation, “Alright, you go ahead and go back, I’ll follow after you in a couple.”

“Sure,” he says.

You expect him to start into the hallway immediately, but he comes towards you instead. You lift your head from the wall, face twisting in confusion. He holds a hand out for you, you go ahead and take it, not entirely sure what he wants. Is he going to bring you somewhere?

No, he pulls you into him for a hug. His arms wrap around your back, underneath your arms. Immediately, your face feels like it’s on fire, heart pounding in your ears. It takes you a moment, but you hug him back, placing your ear against his chest, closing your eyes. The last time you hugged was before the Choosing Ceremony, when you weren’t sure if you’d see him ever again.

Your thought from earlier boomerangs back, much louder and begging this time for you to tell him that you have a crush on him. That you’ve had a crush on him for years, you just couldn’t say so before because of Abnegation ideals and how taboo a relationship is.

You can’t though. You’ve said too much today, told him everything on your list. This confession, the very last one, is not as significant as the rest. You can tell him some other time.

Finnick gives you a gentle squeeze, “Thank you for trusting me.” he murmurs.

You swallow the tightness in your throat, “I’ve always trusted you more than the rest.”

He moves away first, a smile on his face, “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Yeah.” Why are you dizzy all of a sudden?

He leaves now, all you can do is place your hands on your head, fingers interlaced as you turn to the railing. There’s tears in your eyes, and you don’t even realize it until they’re rolling down your cheeks. You sniff, and then huff out a laugh, bringing your hands back down to wipe them off.

You and Finnick are okay.

It’s a thought that keeps running through your head over the next hour. You’re okay, there’s no need to worry anymore. And he thinks that your problems are his again, it’s a good sign. The hug really topped it off, but it’s also the thing that broke you. He must’ve known that you needed one.

You loosely wander back to the dorm, having had enough of the chasm for one day. You’re more than sure that everyone is done facing their fears now, so it should be safe for you to come back without any suspicion. When you reach the door, you softly push against the wood and slip through the crack that’s barely big enough.

You expect to see everyone off in their usual corners, maybe a few people napping because the daytime is the only time when they can sleep anymore, maybe a few people missing. You’re pleasantly surprised to see that everyone is gathered together around the chalkboard that had given the first stage’s rankings.

Caspian is standing within the half-circle, his eyes follow you on your way in, “Now that (Y/n) has finally made it, I can show you.”

A few people glance over their shoulders, none of them dirty looks except for Thyme. You ignore her, and Finnick, going to stand on the side of Blaire that’s away from them, as if he’s some sort of shield. In classic Blaire behavior, he slings his arm over your shoulder.

“Are these the rankings for stage two?” you ask.

“Progress report,” he says, “Caspian’s showing us where we’re at so that we’re prepared for stage three and how badly we need to improve before then.”

An uneasiness grows in your stomach, heart skipping. Everyone is about to see where you’re at, and how far ahead you are. And with Thyme’s accusation of Caspian interfering, this is not going to look good.

Your teeth sink into your cheek, right into the wound you carved up earlier when you were with Finnick. The warm taste of blood crosses over your tastebuds again, the pain sharp.

Caspian doesn’t say another word as he reaches up to hang the board on the designated nail. He stands in the way for a moment, blocking the view. Then, he shoots you a look before stepping aside, a silent warning that you are not as undercover as you’re supposed to be.

And he’s so right.

Your name is the first one on the list.

Your breath hitches, body rigid, eyes glued to the board, blood running from your face. Three minutes and forty-five seconds. This must be your time from the first fear simulation, and you are so incredibly grateful that your two minute one hadn’t been put up there. It would be a lot worse, then. Suddenly, the predator would become prey.

The person in second is, unsurprisingly, Finnick. He has nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds. There is a five minute gap between you two, and it is so significant that it makes your stomach twist.

Someone looks at you, you think it’s Eytelle. Judging by the corner of your eye, she is incredibly angry, compared to Blaire, who has a tight grip on your shoulder, shaking it to bring you back to life. You think it’s praise, you think that he’s excited for you.

His name is in the third slot.

You look past Blaire, eyes finding Finnick for comfort. He’s already looking at you, his lips are pressed together. Thyme could easily mistake this as displeasure towards you, good. To you, this looks like worry. You told him you had to be careful, and this does not look like careful.

When you look at Thyme, you can see her arm loop around his, pressing her body into his side. She doesn’t speak very loud, only enough for Finnick to hear. Unfortunately for her, in Abnegation you’re all used to the silence and working around it so that you don’t disturb the others.

“She’s cheating.”

You elbow Blaire slightly, trying to get his arm off of you, “Laurel warned you about accusing me of cheating already.”

The silence in the room is overcome by the blood rushing in your ears, body heating up. You’re tired of people saying that you’re cheating, Thyme, Ameer, now Eytelle. Is it so hard to believe that you can be in first place without cheating? That you don’t need help to get there?

Thyme looks over at you, face twisting until her mouth drops and her eyes widen. She looks at Caspian, shaking her head, “I didn’t even say anything!”

“Except you did.” Cass says, she’s standing further back than the rest of you. Which means she’s got a clear view of Thyme, “You mouthed it.”

“But I didn’t say it, there’s a difference.”

“So you’re admitting to it?” Caspian asks.

This is when Thyme pales, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Come with me.” Caspian starts towards the door, “Tomorrow’s a day off, don’t waste it.”

Thyme shoots you a nasty look on the way out.

The tension in the room doesn’t have time to grow, Blaire throws his arm back over your shoulder. You have to force a smile before you look at him, “Congrats.”

“Congrats to me?” Blaire’s laughing, the circle is beginning to form. They’re probably going to want to celebrate, “You’re in first!”

“I’m pretty sure (Y/n) meant to say, ‘Congrats for beating Lennox’.” Sydney laughs too, she’s in sixth, her hand is intertwined with Nestor, who holds the same smile. He’s placed in fifth.

Lennox makes a warning face at her, it’s playful. You can tell because he can’t keep the expression for very long before smiling. Lennox is in fourth. 

Trink, who’s in eighth place, is bouncing next to him, face suddenly lighting up, “Oh! That means that Lennox owes you his twenty points!”

Lennox lets out a groan, “No, don’t remind her!”

In order of first place to last, the list goes as follows: You, Finnick, Blaire, Lennox, Nestor, Sydney, Cass, Trink, Ameer, Mirza, Thyme, Allio, Eytelle, and Horace. The rankings from the first stage have definitely flipped. Allio was first, now he’s last. Eytelle’s isn’t all that surprising either, she nearly got cut on the last stage too. She was saved by Amos and Ossie.

There are fourteen of you. If Dauntless only accepts the top ten, then that means Thyme, Allio, Eytelle and Horace will immediately be cut. Which would partially solve the Thyme problem, only she would still know you’re Divergent and would be able to tell people later on,

When you look at Finnick, you think that he’s working on the same thought process.

“Well?” Sydney says, “Hand the points over, loser.”

Lennox punches her arm, “Shut--”

“Hey, Lennox,” you nudge him with your elbow, “You can just pay me five every month so I don’t run you dry.”

He stops, raising his eyebrows, “Are you sure?”

You shrug, “How else are we supposed to get celebratory tattoos today?”

Ameer and Mirza let out a whoop, leading the way out. They placed ninth and tenth, you’re not entirely sure if you'd be celebrating if you were them, but then again, they aren’t going to get cut. If they keep this up for the final stage, they’ll be golden. 

As expected, there are a couple of people that stay back, namely Eytelle and Allio, who are giving you dirty looks like Thyme normally does. Horace trails behind Ameer and Mirza since they’re refusing to leave him behind. You have to grab onto Finnick to make sure that he doesn’t stay here, either. 

“Hey Blaire!” You call, making him turn, “Finnick was wondering who you think the hottest leader out of all the factions is. He was thinking about Haymitch.”

“(Y/n)--?” Finnick strangles out, giving you an incredulous look. You flash him a smile, pushing him forward into Blaire.

“Really? I was thinking Mags.” Blaire snorts.

--

Even though it was risky, you and Finnick went ahead and got matching tattoos like a couple of idiots. It was a long process of trying to figure out a middle ground. You’d suggest something like the Abnegation logo and Finnick would look at you disgusted. Then he would suggest something vulgar, and it would be your turn to look at him like he was doing it on purpose.

Since it took a while, by the time you two made the decision, Blaire, Sydney and Nestor were the only three that were still willingly sitting with you. Lennox and Trink had disappeared sometime during the middle, Ameer, Mirza and Horace went to play a dangerous game near the Pit drop off. And Cass got distracted when she realized that her blonde hair was perfect for dying.

You can’t take all the credit for the tattoo idea, it really stemmed from Sydney and Nestor when they showed you theirs. If they stand side by side, with Nestor on the right and Sydney on the left, and lift up their shirts, they have a flutter of butterflies across their ribs that make a whole picture.

So, you and Finnick decided to get something like that, but a lot simpler. No color or shading, just the lining of two hands holding out their pinkies to make a promise. Yours is on your left shoulder, and Finnick’s is on his right. It can’t really be seen unless you force your shirt over, so there’s not a lot of risk.

Unless Finnick walks around shirtless, and someone catches a glimpse of your tattoo and Thyme somehow finds out and puts two and two together. However, you don’t see that happening any time soon. As far as you’re concerned, she’s completely oblivious to the planning that’s going on between you two.

You tie your hair in a knot at the back of your head, desperate to get it off the back of your neck. Next to you, Trink is twirling her hair around her finger like she always is. She’s also leaning into Lennox more than she usually does, so something definitely happened between them yesterday when they left.

Lennox seems to be making an effort to stick close to her, too. This morning, they had sat next to each other at breakfast, glued to the hip and refused to let anyone sit in the middle. It makes you think that they’ve officially started dating, but they’re not acting like it. Not like Sydney and Nestor.

Your eyes drag over to Finnick and Thyme, they’re sitting on the other side of the dining hall. She sits across from him, body turned so that she isn’t facing you. Finnick, on the other hand, has made sure that he can see you from where he sits. He’s not eating his lunch anymore, his cheek is cupped in one hand.

And his other is on his shoulder, where his new tattoo is.

You sit up a little straighter, wondering how long he’s been waiting for you to see. You and him decided to make a sign for if one wants to talk to the other, so that you two don’t have to keep waiting to talk to each other after fear facing. He suggested that putting your hand over the tattoo would be it, a telltale sign to go to the chasm after whatever you’re done doing.

Finnick briefly glances over, you go ahead and place your own hand over your shoulder, giving him a gentle nod before looking back at your friends. You need a way to get out, you’ve been sitting here, done with your lunch for a while. You’re sure that they’ll understand.

You place your hands onto the table, getting ready to push yourself up. This immediately catches Trink’s attention, she slowly tears her eyes from whatever Blaire is talking about, to look at you. Her eyebrows are raised, mouth parted.

“I’m going to disappear for a while,” you say, “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Trink pouts for a moment, “Can you be back before dinner this time? I thought we could all sit around and play some Dauntless games.”

You shrug with one shoulder, “Sure, no problem. I’ll keep track of the time on my watch.”

She smiles, “Thank you.”

You say your goodbyes to the others, punching Blaire’s shoulder on the way out. 

You’re the first to escape the dining hall, taking your time when you walk to the chasm. There’s no question that you’ll be back before dinner. Only in your dreams will you be able to hang around Finnick for longer than thirty minutes at a time, anymore. On the off-chance that you stay behind for a while, Sydney and Nestor know where to find you.

You get halfway down the long hallway that drops off at your corner, when there’s a rapid sound of footsteps behind you. You raise your eyebrows, a smile on your face when you spot Finnick running at you. He holds his hands out, making a noise that’s a mix of a snarl and a snort.

You get it, you’re supposed to run away.

You play along, running down the hallway in the dark. It’s dangerous, you could trip and fall. But then again, your whole life has been dangerous since the moment you finalized your decision of joining Dauntless. On your first day you jumped from a moving train to a rooftop! You hung from the chasm bridge by your fingers! You ziplined face first off of a building! You’re Divergent, for fuck’s sake!

At this point, you’re beginning to think that danger could really be your middle name.

Your guys’ laughter echoes off the stone walls, you can see your little dip for the chasm coming up, preparing to throw yourself against the wall to avoid Finnick. He’s much quicker than you, his hands clamping around your upper arms as he pretends to roar.

Tears appear in your eyes, you wipe them away, “Okay, get off of me.”

Finnick’s still chuckling to himself when he goes to his far wall. He doesn’t stand, though, he sits down immediately. You go ahead and follow, criss-crossing your legs and placing your hands in the gap in the middle.

“So, what’d you call me here for?” you ask.

Finnick shrugs, “I just didn’t want to be around her anymore. She kept asking me if she thought you were cheating. I think she’s a little on edge now that you keep ranking on top.”

“I can’t help it,” you murmur.

“I know,” he says, his legs extended in front of him, “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

You smile, “Have any ideas on how to solve the problem?”

He shakes his head, “I mean, at this rate she’ll probably get kicked out, but that isn’t what we’re looking for, right?”

You press your lips together, “It’s not realistic.”

“I figured as much, don’t worry.” he looks off to the side, “What if we blackmail her?”

You don’t answer him right away, “We don’t really have any leverage.”

“But if we trick her into it?” Finnick asks, sitting up, “Like, I could hint at getting rid of you from number one somehow, which will keep her in the top ten so she wouldn’t get cut.”

You try to hide your horror when you remember just how alike you and Finnick are. Sometimes you forget that you’ve been around each other for so long that you ultimately have the same brain. You could be thinking something, and he’d probably be able to guess what.

“I’m… not sure…” you manage to get out, “if I still want to be the--um--center of the danger...?”

Finnick doesn’t question you, nodding, “But it’s an idea.”

“I guess? How about we put that on the back burner and try again?”

Finnick gives you a funny smile, “I’m not sure if any of my other ideas will be as perfect as that one so bare with me.”

“Sure.”

And he’s right, once the two of you try brainstorming again, you’re not really coming out with any ideas that you like. You’d really like to go for the first one, but you’re not sure how Finnick would even lead her in that direction. You have no doubt that Thyme wouldn’t have any qualms about murdering you to get ahead. To her, that would be the perfect solution to keep you away from Finnick forever.

The real problem would be to frame her for thinking it up on her own without getting Finnick mixed in there somewhere. Also, there would need to be witnesses--other than you and Finnick--because it’s already known that you three aren’t exactly the best trio when you’re around each other. You could end up getting in trouble, Thyme could figure out that you’re working with Finnick, and it could end right there.

Finnick suggests accusing her of being Divergent, giving it a little spin. You shoot him down, explaining that your results had to be entered manually. Not to mention, she could always spin it back on you, and then the two of you could be taken away together. 

He’s not very quiet when he calls you a buzzkill.

You glance at your watch.

“Is time up?” Finnick asks.

“Is it that obvious?” you joke, beginning to get up, “We can always brainstorm tomorrow, it’s not like we don’t have a week until initiation ends.”

You stretch your arms above your head. Finnick gets to his feet too, sliding his hands into his pockets, “Before I go, I actually had something I wanted to tell you.”

“Yeah, sure,” you smile, leaning against the wall.

“I know we just started being okay again...” Finnick trails off suddenly, eyes fixated on something in the dark. You open your mouth, going to ask what he’s looking at, but he takes a hand out of his pocket, palm-down as if to tell you not to speak.

“Who are you talking to?”

You can feel your blood run cold.

Finnick moves forward, “I was practicing.”

You knew that going past thirty minutes would be a mistake, but you didn’t think that Thyme would come looking. Did she follow you guys? No, she would have come out a lot sooner. Then again, she waited until you found her to say anything about you being Divergent.

And there’s only two people that know this spot is yours. Which means that Thyme might have gone asking about Finnick, she came up with some excuse, and ended up here.

You close your eyes, tilting your head up to the ceiling, holding your breath.

“No, there was another voice, I heard it. Who are you talking to?” Thyme demands, her shoes are loud against the floor.

You look over to Finnick, who’s trying to walk towards her to make her backtrack. 

“It’s (Y/n), isn’t it?” she asks, her voice is getting closer.

“Thyme, no one is there,” Finnick says.

“Then prove it, move out of the way,” she presses her hands to his chest.

You scoot to the left, moving away as you exaggerate a nod. 

You two can trap her here, and figure out where to go from there. The more you think about murder, the more your heart skips. You can’t just kill her, someone will figure out that it’s you two that did it. Thyme goes looking for you two, who are known for hanging out together now, and she doesn’t come back?

You have to convince her not to say anything about you being Divergent. 

Finnick moves aside, allowing her to look for herself. His eyes lock with yours, lips pressed together into a tight line, shaking his head. He doesn’t know what you’re going to do, but he’s sure that it isn’t going to work. You wish he’d have a little more faith.

Thyme comes around the corner, arms crossed over her chest, mouth twisted into an angry mess. You reach out, grabbing her arm and throwing her towards the railing, trading spots with her. She catches herself on the railing with her hands. You used too much momentum, she could’ve fallen.

Finnick moves around you, standing on your right side. Thyme slowly turns around, eyes landing on you first, “You’re so fucking stupid.”

You stare at her, not saying anything. She goes to walk around Finnick, but he moves when she does. He’s not going to let her through, and she doesn’t understand this at first. Only when he mirrors her movements again, does she shoot a glare at him.

“Finnick, you don’t understand what she is,” Thyme’s voice changes significantly, from anger to softness, “I don’t know what she told you, but it wasn’t the truth.”

“So it’s not true that you’re blackmailing her?” Finnick asks plainly.

Thyme gapes for a moment, clearly not expecting him to outright say it.

“You’re not a very good actress,” you say, “you should work on being less transparent.”

Her eyes flicker to you, and she’s back to being pissed, “I told you what would happen if you came near him.”

“And I warned you about what would happen if you did this to me, Thyme.”

She doesn’t get it, you can tell by the way her face scrunches up. The more the gears turn, the more her face relaxes and she pales instead. You’re glad you’ll be able to see the terror in her eyes, the same terror you felt when you realized that she had heard about your secret.

“You won’t be able to kill me.” Her voice isn’t as smooth as it was before.

“What makes you think that?” you ask, tilting your head a bit, “You think that just because Finnick’s here, he’ll save you? If that were the case, he would’ve let you go by now, don’t you think?”

No comeback.

“What’s the plan?” Finnick asks, glancing at you.

“Don’t let her think for you, Finnick,” Thyme blurts, “You told me yourself that you hate  it when she’s in your head like this!” she reaches out for him, he takes a step back, “And now that it’s happening again, you’re just going to let it go?”

“I never said that.” Finnick suddenly snaps, “I said I hated it when she’s in her head, like she can’t tell me anything.”

You ignore the wrenching feeling in your heart. You need to focus.

“Did she tell you that she has Erudite tendencies?” Thyme asks, not a hint of regard in her tone.

You straighten up, because it’s decided. She just sealed her fate by asking him that question. Had she shown a little restraint, a little bit of sympathy, then she would’ve been fine. But just saying it out in the open like that, trying to use it as leverage again…

You reach out, grabbing her wrist harshly, “Throw her over.”

Thyme’s face changes, façade dropping again. She raises her other hand up, fist formed and aimed at your face. Finnick catches her wrist, holding it above her head. She starts yanking her arms down, “No--no, let me go!”

“Give me her other wrist, you can take her feet.” Finnick says, “I can hold her up higher than you can.”

“Stop!” the scream is shrill, “No!”

Finnick holds both of her hands above her head. If he wanted to, you’re sure, he could pick her off of the ground like this. His arms aren’t even fully extended yet, that’ll come in when you have to pick her up to get her over.

“Finnick, please!” she tilts her head back, “Please don’t do this, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing to me?” Finnick glares.

You sweep up her feet, holding her ankles together under your arm for when she starts kicking.

“(Y/n), don’t!” Thyme inhales, a sob follows after, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I won’t say anything, please don’t do this.”

You let go of her feet when they’re over the railing, letting her scramble to find footing. Finnick doesn’t let go of her arms yet.

“I warned you,” you say again, staying on her right side. You place both hands on the railing, leaning forward so that she can see your face, “I warned you that you’d end up here if you went through with this. You’ll be lucky if they find your body this far down the river.”

“They’ll catch you,” she sobs, her eyes bloodshot, hair blowing up because of the wind from the river, “you won’t get away with this.”

You give her a smile, “No one in this faction will miss you.” you lean in a little, “They might even thank me.”

“Or think you committed suicide because there’s no way you’re surviving initiation.” Finnick says.

“Hey, being dead is better than being factionless, right?”

Thyme sucks in a deep breath through her mouth, “Help!”

You snort, “Thyme, we are so far down this hallway that you’d be lucky if someone heard you.” you look at Finnick, giving him a nod, “Any last words?”

“Finnick, I thought I was your friend!” she screams, leaning backwards, away from the river.

“I was wrong.” he says plainly, letting go of her wrists.

Thyme teeters for a moment, looking like she’s going to catch her balance. All it takes is one pat on the back to send her flying forward, “Good luck!” you shout.

Her screams are loud, and are cut off suddenly when she hits the water. You don’t move from where you stand next to the railing, Finnick comes up beside you, wrapping an arm around your back, hand squeezing your upper arm as he pulls you into his side. 

All you can think about is what your father would think, after being murdered by a factionless. How his daughter, who had suffered from this loss, went through with a half-baked plan like it was her only option. How selfish it was to save yourself.

You need a distraction.

You suck in a shaky breath, closing your eyes when your head dips, “What were you going to tell me before she came?”

Finnick’s quiet for a moment, “That I’m Divergent too.”

--

It’s late into the night when they discover Thyme’s body, and you’re already wide awake when Trink shakes you to let you know. You have to pretend to be groggy when she helps you down from the top bunk, already tugging on your arm to get you to move faster.

You couldn’t sleep, not after what you’ve done.

There are only a few people awake, you notice. Blaire is hovering over Finnick’s bed, a hand on his shoulder as he speaks quietly. When Blaire notices you staring, he nods at you. Finnick is rubbing his eyes, but his movements are far too soft for a person who just woke up. He wasn’t sleeping either.

Trink doesn’t stop to wait for them, bringing you right through the door and down a series of hallways, taking you deeper into the Dauntless headquarters than you’ve ever dared to go. There must be another place where the river shows up besides your corner, otherwise you don’t think they would have found her.

“How’d you know?” you ask her, trying to sound like you’ve just woken up.

She seems to believe it, “Lennox was trying to be cute by showing me where the river leads because I mentioned that I like it. And we followed it all the way back here, and I don’t know how he saw her body through the dark because I couldn’t see at all. But he saw, and told me to stay put while he got help.”

She looks at you, “When Lennox got back, he told me that one initiate dies every year because of their ranks.” she’s shaking her head, “But I don’t understand why she wouldn’t just choose to be factionless?”

You shrug, feigning a frown. The plan is working exactly like you hoped it would, not a single finger has been pointed toward you. Then again, it might be too early to speak, her body was just found. 

Thumping footsteps makes you and Trink turn back to see who it is. Trink gives room between you two to allow Blaire and Finnick in. Finnick comes right up your left side, his tattooed shoulder to yours. His hand finds yours, squeezing tightly.

You didn’t believe him when he told you he was Divergent. You were convinced that he was just telling you that to level out with you, to make you feel better and that you weren’t alone after all. But the more he kept talking, the details he was giving, the more you realized that he was telling the truth.

On the aptitude test day, Finnick had been stuck in the room with the Candor man. And that detail alone was enough to begin to settle the doubt because the Candor aren’t supposed to lie. An adult man in Candor shouldn’t have the urge to hide a Divergent teenager, especially if they’re supposed to be a danger to everyone else. Candor is supposed to be the law.

Finnick kept going, telling you that he took his aptitude test like normal. It was only after the test did he realize that something was wrong because of the look on the Candor man’s face. Finnick figured that the man was new, he looked confused and didn’t move from the aptitude test for a long time.

When Finnick asked what was wrong, he was told that the test accidentally gave him two results. One of them being Dauntless, the other being Abnegation. The Candor man went ahead and manually entered Dauntless, though, because the Abnegation part of him was ‘so insignificantly small’ that it couldn’t even count towards Divergence. But when Finnick caught a glimpse of the screen…

You were still confused on how Finnick didn’t know the terminology for it, then, if that’s the case. He said that the Candor man never explicitly used the word ‘Divergent’ or ‘inconclusive’, he just said that the results came out as an accident, it happened all the time, and there was nothing to worry about. That was the reason why manually entering results was possible in the first place.

And since you’re not supposed to discuss faction results, Finnick never had the reason to tell you his result or the aptitude problem in the first place. Honestly, he’s lucky he made it this far without casually telling anyone. Plus, you can’t imagine what he felt like while you were explaining your own Divergence to him, the realization of just how dangerous it is.

It explains a lot, though. Why Finnick’s time is so low when he faces his fears, but it makes you wonder why it isn’t as low as yours? Is it because he’s only Divergent in two ways instead of three? And a part of you thinks that Laurel should’ve asked him if he was Divergent, or figured that out on her own. Unless, of course, he’s still within the reasonable time range, which blocks him from being so suspicious.

So many questions, and no one to answer them

“When’s the last time you’ve seen Thyme?” Trink asks, looking over at Finnick.

“Just before I left lunch yesterday.”

Trink looks at you, her eyes lowering into a squint, “Which was a few minutes after (Y/n), right?”

You nod. She better tread carefully, because if she starts pointing fingers at you two…

“Oh my god!” She lights up, “Does that mean you two are…?”

She’s making a scissor motion with her fingers, chopping them together with a slight head tilt. You think she’s trying to ask if you two are together without realizing how odd her symbol for it is. 

“Dating?” you guess, Finnick’s grip tightens considerably, “No--”

“They’re holding hands,” Blaire grins, giving Finnick a wink.

Trink raises an eyebrow, “I bet you two are taking it slow, huh? Since you’re both Stiff’s.”

“We were Stiffs.” Finnick corrects her.

“Same difference,” she waves it off, “I’m just surprised you two can hold hands without being a mess.”

If she were standing next to you, you would’ve punched her.

“Anyway, did Thyme ever come find you?” Blaire asks.

You turn to your right to look at him again, “What?”

“Yeah, she asked us if we knew where you were, and Sydney told her that you were probably by some empty corner of the chasm. When Sydney asked why, Thyme said she wanted to apologize or something.”

You called it, you said that she probably went looking for one of you. And she did. If she had waited to eavesdrop, though, she would’ve heard you and Finnick speaking. She could’ve wreaked so much havoc, but she wasn’t patient enough for that. You’re thankful.

Your grip on Finnick’s hand is like iron.

“We never saw her,” Finnick says casually, looking at Trink, shaking his head, “(Y/n) and I were in the party room messing with the microphone for an hour before we decided to head back to the dorm.”

“Oh, it’s still in there?” Blaire asks, he sounds a little excited.

“Yeah! At least when we were in there,” you say.

“Huh,” Trink’s eyebrows are drawn in, “Do you think she was looking for you to make amends or something, and when she realized that you didn’t want to see her, she killed herself in that corner?”

“Didn’t Lennox think it was for ranks?” Finnick’s trying to steer her back to her original point.

“It could be both,” Trink shrugs, “I was just saying. It’s over here.”

She takes the lead, bringing you three around another corner before you all come to a stop. Lennox has his back to you guys, his arms crossed, but he’ll lift one every now and then when he speaks, like he’s trying to explain the situation. Off to the side, there’s a large puddle of water beneath a motionless body.

Thyme is soaked from head to toe, lying on her back. Her head is faced away, toward the ledge that has no railing. Wet hair, flattened against the ground and the sides of her face. Her clothes are like a second skin with the way they stick to her body.

A woman is holding a blue lantern up, staring down at Thyme. If it weren’t for the light, this whole area would be pitch black. And with the light, you’re able to see the ear piercing that you insisted on her getting when you and Finnick got nose piercings.

Finnick draws in a breath, and doesn’t release. Blaire stays on your other side, staring. Trink is the only one who moves forward, coming up behind Lennox to tell him that she’s brought you two. Her hand is gentle on his back, and he offers you three a half-glance, a nod, and then turns back to the man he’s talking to. Trink doesn’t leave his side.

“I’m… so sorry, Finnick,” Blaire says slowly, not being able to tear his eyes from the puddle of water.

“Don’t be, she wasn’t really my friend, anyway.” he gives your hand a squeeze.

Was she anyone's?

You try to bring out some sense of remorse, thinking that you should at least pretend to be upset, but what’s the use? Everyone in the transfer initiate group knows how much you hated each other, it would be weird for you to cry over her. In fact, it’s even weirder that Finnick isn’t crying over her.

Besides, you can’t fake an emotion that’s the complete opposite of what you’re feeling. In order to be a good actress, you have to feel what your audience would feel at that moment, and you just can’t do it. There’s something else that’s brewing, something more sickening and vile and would most definitely get you in trouble.

It’s pure gleeful laughter, the relief and satisfaction of knowing that you will never have to deal with her again. Much less worry that she could snap at any moment and get you killed. No more pressing your ears to closed doors, no more walking on eggshells...

At the rate the balloon is swelling in your chest, you’re not sure if you’ll be able to hold it in.

--

ANTERIC IS A SPIN-OFF DIVERGENT AU //MASTERLIST//

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