#*clenching my fists until they bleed* i am capable of letting things and people go

[satturn]

feeling very unwell forever

[youryanderedaddy]

War prize

Summary: You get taken as a war prize once the barbarians take over your homeland.

Tw: nsfw, non - con, mentions of blood, slight corruption kink, size difference, slavery, deregatory language, degradation, possessive behavior, minor character death, spanking, mention of war

There is now part 2

Yoo guys, don’t worry if you voted for the other two options, I will write for them too soon enough. Anyways, enjoy.  

You weren’t supposed to be here right now with your legs covered in heavy metal chains and a dirty cloth shoved up in your mouth. Your friends weren’t supposed to be either captured or dead. Your side wasn’t supposed to lose against the barbaric tribe. So many things weren’t supposed to happen tonight and you were slowly getting used to the fact that your supreme leaders had failed, the army had raised the white flag high and you were currently in the enemy territory with slim chances of escape, with absolutely no memories of how you got there in the first place.

You could hear his heavy prolonged footsteps, the way the sharp heel of his boot dug into the rich soil and stomped all over the daisies and weeds just like he had done with your own people hours ago. He was getting closer to the tent by the minute and his shadow was growing bigger and bigger until the soldier finally pulled back the curtain-like fabric to the side and entered the tiny space you were forced into.

He was very tall, unnaturally so, nothing like the men in your tribe who, despite being strong and capable, were born on the shorter side. His face was rough and raw, his features symmetrical and fierce in their cold perfection, deep charcoal eyes, dark lips and a straight nose. The knight fancied his long black hair free and wild, letting it fall against his muscular shoulders softly, shiny, silky and healthy. In these territories the warriors wore very little clothing, finding anything covering their chest or ankles to be too distracting and suffocating during a battle. You tried to look away from his half – naked form but his upper body was sweaty and smooth, caramel in color, making it hard to look at anything else. In return the male simply stared at you for a few moments, grinning in amusement or maybe even satisfaction, and kneeled down next to the mat you laid on.  

“Hello, my little captive.” His voice was throaty and deep when he finally called out to you, a cunning smirk adorning his lips, giving him a sly foxy expression. The man reached out to cup your cheek and wipe away a tear slowly falling down, causing you to squirm away from his touch as if he held a hot iron against your face.

“Don’t touch me, you brute!” You shouted out before you had the chance to reconsider your poor choice of wording. The knight simply chuckled in respond and grabbed your hips roughly, making sure to dig his nails deep into the clothed skin before pulling you closer to his naked chest. You couldn’t help but turn red when forced to take in the warmth and firmness of his body – you had never been so close with a man before, much less your commune’s arch enemy.

“I will do so much more than that, sweet girl.” Raven whispered against your ear and kissed your neck softly, pulling your hair down so you would arch your back and whine miserably. “I won you fair and square, little slave.” He growled against your collarbone and bit down hard on the soft part of your throat. You couldn’t stand the hot wet sensations and you desperately wanted to get away from the warrior’s cruel grip, but you were helpless in your struggles, and even if you weren’t thoroughly tied up, you were still too scared to put up a fight against the barbaric male twice your size.

“You are so small and fragile, so vulnerable underneath me. I’ve always wanted something soft and pretty to warm my bed at night.” Raven admitted huskily as he tore apart your white satin robe, revealing your chest to the lingering glittering light coming from the gaslight above. Your pitiful whimpers were muffled by his lips slamming on yours and his wet slippery tongue forcing his way deep down your throat. The warrior was caressing your bosom, squeezing and fondling at it shamelessly, pinching and licking your nipples until they stood at attention red and swollen like cherries. “Such a pretty little slut, tied down at my mercy.” The knight moaned and slapped your breast lightly, enjoying the sheer look of horror on your beautiful face, twisted in panic. “I’m gonna make your tits bounce while I take you like a bitch in heat.” The man mumbled sadistically and slapped your other breast, this time using more force. “ I’m gonna make you my whore.” He cursed under his breath and lowered his head to suck on your neck once again.

Soon Raven got bored of playing with your tits and moved on to spread your legs wide open, pulling your panties down to your ankles. The sight of your sweet tight pussy exposed and displayed so wantonly was mouth-watering to the barbarian, and he could already feel his member harden painfully against your slit. You pleaded silently with your eyes to be spared, muttering quiet pleas, “no’s”, sobbing and clutching to the last bit of hope for mercy. Unfortunately, the warrior couldn’t hear a word, too fascinated by your luscious body and his own wild hunger.

“My beautiful little prize, all mine.” The man whispered almost affectionately, kissing you nice and slow this time, with his throbbing erection pressed on your entrance, inches away from your untouched virgin hole. “I saw you earlier today while you were tending to your parents’ wounds, pet.” He spoke suddenly, his length teasing your folds by slowly sliding in between your soft thighs. “You looked so precious in your desperate attempt to save them during the final fight.” The warrior continued, one hand coming up to stroke your hair in a sick yet comforting manner. “A sweet little thing like you shouldn’t be on the battlefield.” Raven kept going while rubbing slow circles on the palm he had forced you to open when you were clenching your fist tight. “You look so much better by my side, pretty girl.” The soldier placed a small peck on your temple, the lingering gentleness of his actions and the cruelty of his words making you sick to your core. You felt tired and overwhelmed yet the worst was still in store.

“I will tell you a little secret, slave.” The dark-haired male snarled at you and raised your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his cold black eyes. “I killed your father and took you all for myself.” He confessed in a low vicious voice, his scarred fingers tightening around your throat. The wet fury in your heart tangled together with the pain and grief of your loss, but the deadly grip around your neck forced you in place, still and lifeless like a doll. You wished you were dead just like your family so you wouldn’t have to suffer the humiliation of entertaining the enemy and his twisted desired any longer. “Now I am going to steal your innocence and make you mine, little bird.” Your face froze in terror and agony, having realized that, by the end of his words, the man had already pushed his manhood into your tight heat, piercing through your body, unprepared for the shock and the pain. “Sing for me, slave.” The barbarian hissed under his breath and moved roughly in and out of you, each new thrust sharper and deeper than the last one. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you broken down so easily, but you needed a way to cope with the harsh reality, so you cried out for him. You chocked on your pitiful sobs, screamed in pain and whimpered miserably just to survive another second of this meaningless torture.

Raven looked ecstatic, enticed by your lovely moans and whines, your sweet despair delicious on his tongue while he claimed your lips and explored your throat. Your tight pussy squeezed hard on his length, milking every bit of pleasure out of it. His eyes were blacker than the night sky, filled with lust and thirst for blood, unquenched even after hours of slaying the innocent souls determined to protect their land. Laying down on the cold ground, sweaty, violated and stripped of your pride, you wondered whether you were just another conquest to the warrior, perhaps ruining your purity was his way of proving that he and his people were the new rulers of the territory.

“What a sweet little virgin you were, and now you are bleeding on my cock while I take you, pet.” The barbarian cooed at you cruelly, choking you lightly, not tight enough to put your life in danger, but enough to keep you motionless and complacent, just a hole for him to fuck into. “I am going to cum in your cunt now, slave, and you are going to stay there and take it.” The man announced sternly and kept shoving his manhood down your channel roughly, pounding into you relentlessly until he came with a growl and released his seed deep inside you, painting your walls white. Your pussy felt raw and puffy, pulsating in pain around the cock still buried in. He wasn’t pulling out of you.

“Oh, little bird, did you really think that I would be satisfied with having you just once?” Raven taunted you gleefully, a sadistic gleam in his dark eyes as he took in the panic on your face, drinking it like a glass of honey mead. “I fought for you after all, precious.” The warrior muttered slowly, mere inches away from your swollen lips, bruised and red from all the biting and rough kisses. “I am going to savor you little by little.” He paused to catch your gaze and held it for a moment too long before focusing on your mouth again.

“You’re mine now, don’t you ever forget it.”

[saphirered]

I Don’t Hate You (Vagrant pt3.)

The lady at the front desk gives you a dirty look as you come straggling in, leaving a wet trail behind you, boots sopping with an equally disgruntled expression on your face. You toss her a coin, if only to be done with it all and go back up the stairs. There you see, Fjord is no longer sitting in the hallway and probably either has gotten himself a room of his own or Molly’s taken mercy upon the half-orc and let him sleep peacefully and undisturbed in their shared room. A sense of dread still lingers as you approach your door and you take a sip from the opened bottle in your hand, hoping to find some courage to push you over the edge and just get it over with. You can see the hint of orange light bleeding through the small gap. 

When the door opens Caleb looks up from his book, or well, your book. You look like an absolute mess and he knows you know you do. It’s an unspoken agreement to not comment on this fact made in that brief moment of eye contact, for both of your sakes. 

“Do not question my terrible life’s choices, Widogast.” You grumble as you let yourself fall backwards on your bed. You don’t even have the energy to magic away the remainders of the rain that kept you company from your soaked person. Well, that or the fact that the droplets rolling down your skin hid the tears from the panic attack and brief existential crisis you had on that rooftop before you came down. 

Caleb puts down the book, gets up from the bed and slowly and carefully inches over to your side of the room. He hesitantly sits down on the edge. You have half the mind to kick him off just because but can’t find the energy to do so. Despite your distaste for magic users like him, being alone after your mental breakdown you just experienced, really sucks. Caleb pats your knee awkwardly in an attempt to comfort but not wanting to cross any boundaries. It’s pathetic, he knows because one can hardly fix a stab wound by slapping on a bandaid. His own past experiences have left him a tad bit at a loss when it comes to comforting a person in pain, especially one so stubborn and crass as you have been towards him. 

Still, Caleb has figured out your hatred isn’t directed at him personally. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out it’s people with abilities like him that have played a part in your past causing you pain and suffering and the wound is still very fresh, hence your trauma being reflected onto him, despite his complete lack of involvement in your before the moment you met. It may not have helped that your hostility towards him hasn’t exactly encouraged him to try and build a proper relationship with you. He hardly even knows you yet still he feels as if he knows your tells, the things you go through and why you act like you do. He may not know the details of your life but he feels safe to say he knows you better than any of the others. 

It’s not his lack of knowledge and insight into your life beyond what’s surface and what he can read off you that holds him back. It’s the fear of what he might find within you that will tear open wounds of his own he’s worked so hard to cover up. It’s the fear you might be one step ahead of him in a similar story and there is no hope for people like you and him after all. It’s the fear those you run from are the same people he has tried so hard to escape. It’s the fear of you, that you might be each others’ salvation, or undoing because he knows what he has the capability to become, what you could become. 

But here you lie, upon your bed curled up, traces of tears long since fallen, possibly even ran out, tightness in your throat, indents of your nails in your palms from clenching too much, frustration and anger in your eyes is still overwhelmed by pain and hopelessness and a wish the void would just come and claim you, where you no longer fear the consequences of running and will be able to obliterate those who caused you so much hurt, or die trying in the process. Caleb is reminded of himself in that cell of his own, for years, a broken mind piecing itself together from the shambles it was left in, barely a shell of what it used to be. 

When he promised himself he would do anything and everything in his power to take down these tormentors and their accomplices so no one would ever have to suffer like he had, still is suffering, Caleb didn’t expect to find you. He still remembers himself begging, praying, screaming just to not be alone, to have someone tell him there is still hope and not all is lost. There’s still good in this wretched world and if the world turns bleak, it’s up to you to be that good despite everything. Those were the pretty words and empty promises of a dreamer but does that make them a lie? 

“Don’t patronise me. I’m not some fragile broken child in need of mothering.” Caleb retreats his hand, clasping them together in his lap as he studies your face. Your eyes are cold, your expression matching. A mask, he knows. A way to protect yourself. 

“Good. Because I have no intention of doing so. I want you to be blunt and truthful and I don’t want you to hold back. I want you to humour me and answer some questions.” You raise an eyebrow expecting there to be something behind Caleb’s request but his stare is unreadable, like a practiced mask of his own. 

“You want me to be blunt and give you a peace of my mind?” You humour. You’ll tell the asshole okay. You’ll bicker and fight and quarrel if that’s what he wants no problem. Maybe a battle of wits and words will get you back into your groove. 

Little do you know that is in fact not what Caleb is looking for. Not exactly. He isn’t looking for a fight. He’s looking for answers, how to help you despite your differences because no one deserves to go through this, especially not alone. So because of that, he will not humour you in turn with his usual reply to your attempts to push him. He doesn’t intend this to end in another futile empty argument. Not now. So he’ll drop the game and go straight for the jugular. 

“Why do you hate me?” You freeze at the abrupt and sudden question. Caleb knows you don’t really hate him personally but coddling you won’t work and some things you’ll have to realise by yourself first. Finding the strength to lean up on your elbows you tilt your head at him as a half smirk creeps upon your lips.

“Because you’re an egotistical self-serving bastard who cares for nothing but himself and the people useful to him, until they outlive their usefulness.” The words are meant to cut like knives and usually you’d get a rise out of Caleb by such a statement but when you don’t see any response to your words, nothing but those blue eyes staring into yours so… unbothered, it feels as if those knives are turned onto you instead. You’re not quick enough to get rid of that tiny hint of guilt slithering across your features. 

“Why do you hate me?” Caleb asks again, voice still calm like it’s the most unremarkable question ever. He could have asked you about the weather with that tone. 

“Because you’re an asshole.” 

“Why do you hate me?” 

“Seriously? I already gave you an answer. Was I not clear the first time?” That guilt in your stomach starts growing, festering. There’s something in your mind pushing through but you try to fight it off, not liking the thought of being faced with those emotions. You’ve worked too hard to push them away. 

“Just answer the question. Why do you hate me?” Caleb sees you struggle. Your first answers where in the blink of an eye, a defence mechanism slipping into place. That works, for a while, until it doesn’t, until you start questioning it and give yourself a moment to think.

“Because…” Because you’re a coward. Because you run from your problems. Because you leave other people to swipe up the mess for you. Because you’re a monster to blame for the pain of others. Because you’re to blame for your own pain. Because you couldn’t save them. Because. Because. Because. Those are not reasons you hate Caleb. You take in a sharp breath, clenching your jaw in anger, nose scrunching holding at bay the curses from passing your lips and the threat of all your emotions from spilling out like a breaking dam. 

“Why do you hate me?” The words now, do not sound void of emotion, but instead are filled with a warmth and pity. Damn him! Damn him to the hells and abyss! When you don’t answer he repeats it again. Caleb gives you amicable time to answer, leaving a long silence to give your mind the time and space to think for itself, analyse and process and you hate every second of it because you can’t stop it. The cracks in the walls you’ve tried to hard to build become more apparent by the second. He asks again. 

“I don’t bloody hate you!” You shout, pretty sure you may just have woken up the entire floor. The silence after the words leave your lips is deafening. 

“Then what do you hate about me that causes you to act the way you do?” Your hands clench back into fists, your nails pressing down again in the still tender skin from but minutes ago. You don’t want to say it. You really don’t but that pain raging through your body wants to get out and you feel the floodgates opening inch by inch despite your efforts to fight it. Then there’s that voice in the back of your mind; maybe speaking the unspoken will give you some peace. 

“I don’t hate you! I just hate what your remind me of. It’s like you’re here to personally torture me so please just leave me alone to suffer, get over it and move on.” You don’t want to remember the last time you pleaded for something, and had hoped to never plead for anything again yet here you are. 

“I am going to give you a choice and I’ll only offer it once, so listen very carefully.” You’ve never seen Caleb look so intense, so genuine, and so determined. You can’t do anything but listen so you nod, signalling him to continue and that you’re paying attention to his every word and not to twist them for your own amusement for once. Whatever previous relation, or rather lack thereof you’ve had is gone now. There’s only you two, in a place of vulnerability and without judgement. 

“You’ve got two options. One; you tell me to piss off, like you usually do. I’ll go back to bed, back to sleep and leave you alone. We will never speak of this again, never mention this and go our separate ways. We will remain cordial when interacting and won’t let our own grievances get in the way of the others.” You take in the words, nodding to confirm you understand. 

“Or two; you and I are going to talk. You are going to tell me what you wish, and can tell me provided it’s the truth and I will listen. If you wish to tell me your life story I will listen. If you wish to tell me all your troubles I will listen. If you wish to share your pain, I will listen. And know that I will help you if you’ll allow me to. Because if you keep doing this on your own, let the guilt and grief and pain swallow you whole, I know exactly where it will lead. Do not allow it to be your undoing, or turn you into a person beyond your recognition.” Midway through his offer your eyes have closed and your brow furrows. You bit your lip and that combined with the movement of your eyes behind your eyelids are the only indication to Caleb you’re still listening to him. 

Caleb gives you time. He doesn’t expect an answer right away. That’s not how this works but he does study you, attempting to get an inkling of what’s going through your mind. He feels warmth wrap around his wrist, glancing down to notice your fingers have wrapped around it and hold on tightly. You’re holding onto a lifeline and he knows it. 

“Why?” Your, words a pained choke, you don’t dare open your eyes, don’t trust the look in Caleb’s eyes to tear down what last defences you had up and turning you into even more of a broken mess. 

“Because despite what people might have you believe, there is still good in this world.” You’re unable to stifle a sob, feeling a tear slide down your cheek. 

“I’ve not known much kindness in my life but I feel confident in saying this is the kindest thing anyone has ever offered me. It’s why my pervious actions and words towards you make me feel like an absolute ass even more. I hope you find it in yourself to forgive me.” You release Caleb’s wrist, feeling grounded once more despite the buzzing in your head and twiddle with your fingers awaiting a response, the tense air slowly lifting as you sit in peace and silence. 

You nod, wiping at the corners of your eyes before you open them, a bit more red and puffy than they were before you entered the room. You finally look at the wizard and take in a deep breath before nodding again. If it were anyone else, any other moment you might have said no. You’d even have laughed at whoever tried this emotional shit on you. But it’s time. You’re not getting any better nor can you repress everything forever. It’s time to face some of these troubles head on. Luckily you won’t have to do it on your own. It will take time and effort and it’s going to hurt like hell but it has to be done. You have to move on and learn how to live. You owe it to yourself, if not the people you’ve left behind. 

“Now this doesn’t mean we’re going to be best friends from now on. You’re still an asshole and so am I so don’t think I’ll let you off easy for your comments and the trouble you cause.” The corner of Caleb’s lips turns up slightly as he speaks and you mimic his expression.

“I don’t think anyone else could handle it, so I’m sorry to disappoint but you’re definitely stuck with me, Widogast.” You muster a smile, exhausted. It’s mutually understood the conversation as per your agreement won’t happen right here, right now but instead when you’re both ready. For now, at least you won’t pretend to hate each other anymore and start over. 

“Hey, Caleb?” You ask.

“Yes?” He answers but before he knows it your arms wrap around him and pull him into your embrace. Caleb’s form goes rigid shocked by not only the gesture but by the physical touch itself. After a good few moments he finds himself ease just a little, enough to return the embrace lightly.

“Thank you.” You whisper.

[optimistic-dinosaur-nacho]

A Boy - Kylo Ren Fic

Kylo Ren x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Kidnapping, violence, interrogation, language 

Summary: You’re in the Resistance and The First Order raids your base, killing almost everyone there, leaving you. As the witness who knows where Luke Skywalker was. And the Knight of Ren was bound to have it at once.

A/N: Whaattt? Something that is not Chris Evans? SHOCKING!! This is so new to me, never in my life I was going to write someone different. This might be a one time thing, I need to relax on the requests from a lot of people so I’ll decide if I will do other characters like Bucky Barnes, Loki, Peter Parker or others.

Everything in here is a little bit different from the movies.

This is requested by my lovely friend, @just-one-ordinary-fangirl​

You ran through the halls of the Resistance base to find the comms. The sirens blaring throughout the structure, pilots and the Resistance people ran through in panic and rush. Many people were pulled in with wounds and you heard someone scream.

“The First Order is here!” 

You saw a woman fall to the ground and you knelt down to hold her up, “I got you. You okay?” You ask her. She nods and you helped her into another room. “Stay here, I’ll have someone grab you, okay?” She nods and you hear blasters down the hall. People on your side fell to the ground and Stormtroopers began to push through. You lock the room where the woman was and you run the other way.

You took another route to communications and saw people dead on the floor. “Oh God...” You ran to the screen and flicked a few switches. “Millennium Falcon, this is Y/N from the Resistance Base.”

“What’s going on?” You hear Rey ask. You hear explosions behind you, “The First Order is here. They’ve killed everyone, but whatever you do. Keep going. This is about Skywalker, you find him before they do.”

“What about you and survivors?”

You hear a loud humming sound of what sounded like the leader. Ren. “I don’t think there will be, Rey.” The next thing you hear is the static of her voice and when you hear the humming become louder, you run out of the room. There was no chance you could just leave on a X-wing. You weren’t specialized for that. So you ran out into the forest. You could hear stormtroopers talk back and forth. “Find survivors. The leader said no survivors.” You kept running and slid down the hill.

Coming up to a rock, you look over to see if anyone followed. And when you heard a twig snap, you whipped around and dodged a bright red light as it crackled in your ears. You fall onto the ground and look up to see the leader. Kylo Ren. 

His lightsaber glowing red with the crackling sounds of it. You kicked yourself up and ran down the forest. When you make a turn, you hear a blaster fire and you fall to the ground with a shout. You look down to see your leg bleeding from the burn of the blaster, you stand back up and run up the hill, limping. On the urge of crying, you turn to see Kylo walking up to you like a predator.

You raised your small blaster up and fired. He swings his saber and blocks your firing and his other hand reaches out towards you and you froze. You budged yourself to move and your hand releases the blaster in your hand. He walks up to you, towering over you. 

“Who are you?”

You flinched and gritted your teeth, “I’m no one.” The grip in your body tightens and you sucked in the air as he leans in. “I doubt that.” His hand reaches out to your head and sweat begins to form on your forehead as he forcefully reaches into your mind. “You’ve seen the map. You know where the Jedi is.”

“No...” You stuttered.

“Supreme Leader. This place is rigged to blow in five minutes,” One of the troops behind him says. You shake and whimper softly as the Supreme leader stares at you darkly behind the mask. “Fall back the troops. We have what we need.” his hand waves over your face and your eyes close. You fall limp into his arms and he takes you back onto the ship, heading back to the larger ship in space.

.

When you woke up, you had your arms held and your feet dragged against the floor as two troopers began to drag you. In an instant, you kicked one of the troopers legs and used his blaster to knock him out. Before you could shoot the other, he smacks your blaster out of your hands and points his at you. “Go on, kid,” He says, “You’re surrounded by a thousand more here. You won’t make it out.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Before you went to take a step, something stops you and the stormtrooper turns down the hall and straightens his posture. “Supreme Leader.” You look at the corner of your eye to see the dark figure approach. “We need her alive.”

“Yes, sir.”   

“Restrain her.” The stormtrooper follows his order and takes you down the hall into a room. He gets you to the large restraint and binds your wrists as your sides and your ankles as well. “I don’t want any games from you.” You glared towards him and heard someone walk in. “Leave us.”

The trooper nods and turns to leave the room. And the Supreme Leader stands in front of you with his hood off, showing his mask. It was quiet as he looked at you, you weren’t sure where his eyes were at the moment, but your fists stayed clenched. “Do you know who I am?” He asked.

You straighten your back and sighed softly, “I know who you are. You’re just a boy.”

“A boy?” He walks up to you slowly, you swallowed hard as his mask inches closer to your face. “That boy... is dead.” He leans back and you swipe your tongue over your chapped lips. “Dead?” You stuttered out, Kylo watched you coldly, almost fearing to upset him. But if he killed you, he would have nothing. “I still see him. Whether you choose to look at yourself, you’re a boy hiding behind a mask.” He raises his gloved hand up to your face and you felt a headache form slightly. 

“Whether you choose to give me the location of Skywalker or not. I will always get what I want. But don’t worry...” He says, “... your strength is weak. It’ll be easy.” You felt the headache begin to grow and your eyes clench tight as he pushed into your head. You closed your thoughts and tried to push him out with unnecessary thoughts. His hand twists as it hovers in front of your face, “Your parents died on Alderaan. They left you...” He reads in his own mind as you clenched your jaw, “You dream of a place... It’s peaceful... No life... Trees and a waterfall.” His head turns to finally look at you. 

“How nice. But... I want the map to Luke Skywalker,” He pushes his hand towards you and the force slams your head into the metal as you screamed out. You kept pushing your thoughts and the map of Skywalker like a needle in a haystack. After another minute, his hand drops and you gasp for air, letting your head fall forward. Sweat building on your forehead as you choked a sob and raised your head up to him.

He noticed your eyes had tears and without another word, he walked out of the room. You finally relaxed your head back and suffered the hours of the headache. Eventually you fell asleep uncomfortably and you probably only got a few hours in till you hear the door open. And Kylo returned, this time without his cloak. Just him in his helmet. You knew he would try again to get into your head, he would’ve had the chance if he did it in your sleep. But you are pretty much a light-sleeper.

He sits down in front of you and his elbows lean on his thighs, watching you. “Comfortable?” He asked. You would’ve shouted at him but there was something in you that you can’t. “I rather be sitting on that chair than be restrained to this.” 

He nodded once but it was a half-nod. “We can figure something out.”

“Figure something out, you mean, after you get what you want you’ll kill me.”

“I don’t plan on that last one,” He says. You tilt your head back and he watched you swallow weakly. He noticed your leg was bleeding overtime. The blood began to pool around. “You’re hurt.”

You don’t reply as you silently glared at him. He lifts himself up onto his feet and he walks up to you and reaches around. You felt the restraints unlatch and you limp down into his arm. He held you up, “If you pull anything, I will leave you here to bleed.”

“You wouldn’t do that. You need me,” You breathed out, he didn't reply but he grabbed your arm and began to guide you to the Med Bay. One of the medical droids began to operate on your leg as Kylo stood off to the side watching. You couldn’t tell if he was watching the droid or you. But you could feel his gaze behind the mask.

When the droid finished its stitching, your skin had a scar and you didn’t budge out of the chair until Kylo had said to. But the droid leaves your side as Kylo stands in front of you. You lifted your gaze up to him and you lightly shook, “Thank you.”

He turns his head away to look out the large window that faced the hangar. When you watched him, you could almost see... Ben Solo. Leia had told you a lot about him. You only knew his family name. He turns to look at you again and he faces you. The silent started to get a large tension and so you spoke.

“I see you...” You say, “Who you are. I know what you’re capable of.”

“What do you know what I’m capable of?” He says. You swallowed hard and inhaled sharply. “Take your mask off. I can tell a lot more with features of someone.” He takes a step up and silently, he stares at you. “Tell me. You won’t know what I’m capable of,” He said. You froze slightly when he reached up with both hands for his helmet.

Pushing it up, the helmet unlocks with a hiss and he lifts it up. Your breath gets caught to see... a boy. His dark hair, dark eyes and scar that dragged down from his brow to his neck. You took a shaky breath as he tilts his head down. “See? Nothing,” His voice was deep, not dark with his helmet on. You lifted yourself from the chair and slowly walked up to him. He doesn’t move when you make your way over slowly.

“Nothing is not what I see...” You said, “... even if I told you, you would refuse to accept it. Because you’re afraid to come back.” His bottom lip quivers as you look into his eyes. “People betrayed you. People who didn’t see what you were capable of.” Your hand reached up to touch his skin. Some way of showing him something.

When your hand was inches from his face, his hand grabs your wrist to stop you. But reassuring, your eyes didn’t change. When he didn’t sense your fear for him, something inside him made him let go of your wrist, allowing you. Your fingers touch his cheek bones first before your palm touches his jaw. The slight push of his head into your palm made you look up to him. “Ben.” His own name falling from your lips, he sucked in a breath and shook like a feather. 

Just like you said. He was scared. A scared boy. “I know what I have to do... but I don’t know if I have the strength to do it.” You shook your head at him, “Not what you have to. Do what you want.” His eyes looked for some kind of sign in yours. He wasn’t sure what sign. 

What sign?

Sign of hope? A new hope? You felt the leather of his glove touch your cheek and you sucked in a breath. His eyes switched between yours and nodding once, he spoke. “I see you...” You felt the corner of your lip tug into a small grin, one that didn’t show much of your full smile. And your other hand laps over his on your cheek. “You can still join the light, Ben. End this war now.” His expressions were softened as you spoke in a low whisper. 

“Snoke, Darth Vader, Palpatine, they can’t control you no more. Come home.” You noticed he seemed hesitant, it made him pull away from you and you flinched back. He shivered as he looked at you, terrified. His breathing picked up and he takes his helmet and slips it on, walking out of the room without another word. “Ben, wait!” You called out. He doesn’t come back and you went to chase him but once you turned that corner, he was gone.

There was something still pulling him back. Everyone he looked up to, Snoke, Palpatine and Darth Vader. They were dead. No one can keep him for themselves. It was Kylo Ren. Keeping a scared boy in a helmet and using the force for the Dark side. For the rest of that moment, you didn’t see Ben.

.

Walking down the halls with two pairs of others behind you, you started to feel angered. Annoyed. You stopped and whipped yourself around to face the two stormtroopers that had followed you throughout the ship. “Can you leave me be?”

“Wherever you go. We go. General Hux’s orders.”

“Who ordered him?” You asked, the stormtroopers go silent and they look at each other to see who had the answer. Your shoulders lift up into a better posture. “Where’s Kylo?” You asked. One of the stormtroopers looks over to the other and nods down the right hall. “We’ll take you.” You followed the troopers down the hall to meet with Ben. On your way over, a man in a vest steps in your way.

“Just where do you think you’re going?” He asks. One of the troopers nods at him, “She asked where the Supreme Leader is, General.” The man turns and he glares. “I’m sorry, he’s not seeing anyone at the moment.”

“He’ll see me,” You said coldly, “I suggest you move or I’ll move you myself.” Hux chuckles at that, “You watch yourself, girl. He will kill you once we get the map of Skywalker. You’re nothing but flesh on bones.” You kept your mouth shut as General Hux walked by and left you to continue your walk. When you reached his private chamber. Walking in, he was standing with his back facing you and you stopped just at the entrance.

“I’ve been looking for you,” You said.

Kylo doesn’t budge to your voice as he stared out to the hangar. “Well, you found me.” You turned your head to look at the two troopers behind you. “Did you order them to follow me around?” You asked, “I don’t like being stalked, they’re lucky to be alive still.” His head turns an inch towards his shoulder, “No. I never ordered them to. General Hux doesn’t trust you.”

“I can tell,” You reply. His hand flicks out and his two fingers make a shoo motion and the stormtroopers turn their heels and leave the room. Letting you engulf into the quiet and open room. “What is it that made you look for me?” You took a step up to him, “I can’t give you the map to Luke Skywalker,” You said. His head turns. “But I can give you a chance.” His shoulder turns so his body faces you. “I felt you, Ben. There’s still so much light in you, I can see it-”

Your hands reached up slowly hesitantly but his other hand takes your other cheek. Eyes closing, you placed your hands over his and down his forearms. His lips pull away from yours but his forehead stayed against yours. His breathing was slow huffs, you could feel his chest lift up and down. Looking up to his face, you held his hands on your cheeks. He opens his eyes and you tilt your head. Reaching up to his cheek and whispering his name softly, you spot the realization in his face. 

“You don’t see anything. You believe there’s a place for you to live in peace, a place where no life is at. This is it, your way of escaping war. Every thing you dream of is no longer a place. It’s war.”

“You can stop it...” You say. Your body tightens and you felt yourself get pushed forward and you’re face to face with him. You felt yourself shiver out of fear as his stare grown dark. You shakily breathed in, “Please, Ben...” He huffs out a breath almost like a gasp and he noticed how you looked at him. You felt your body loosen and you let out a sigh before his hand takes your cheek and when you lifted up your head, his lips touch yours. 

With a nod from him. You realized this isn’t Kylo Ren. This is Ben Solo.

I won’t be tagging the Chris Evans official tags because I don’t know who loves who and be tagged for nothing! I don’t know! If you’re into Kylo Ren/Adam Driver, you can tell me and if I do another fic, I’ll tag you in it. 

Random Tags (but also a couple who asked to be tagged) : 

@morby​ @just-one-ordinary-fangirl​ @kylorenxreader​

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Third chapter of my OC fic ^_^ 

With this chapter, Solara will have met all of the Vermillion siblings. But she will also have to face her own unexplained emotions, which she tries to deny. 😉

This series will have mature content so reader discretion is advised.

Words: 4940

Chapter 3

Solara sat by the desk, slowly familiarizing herself with the documents and lingo used, making notes for herself of the formatting and writing down phrases she still needed to run by someone, in order to be certain of their meaning. She stopped only to rub her temples every now and then, giving her brain time to process all of the information that came her way. Hours ticked away but she barely noticed, until she struggled to grasp even simple sentence structures and she concluded to herself that perhaps she ought to stop for the day.

It was then that the door swung open, Mereo standing in the doorway with her hand on her hip, and a raised eyebrow.

“You still here?” Her tone was a strange combination of disappointment, amusement and disbelief, which in its absurdity made Solara chuckle.

“Well, it’s not like you really showed me around the base anyways, so I figured that someone was bound to show up eventually. Besides, I had a decent amount of time to collect some notes and phrases that I need to-“.

“Give it a rest,” Mereo interrupted while crossing her arms.

Silence fell between them as Solara put down the paper she was holding, frowning to Mereo, who close her eyes and sighed.

“We both need to eat something,” she remarked, her gaze directed blankly ahead of her, into the depths of the burgundy carpet. “And I was thinking that we’d make a small detour and go see my brothers before doing so,” she continued, her tone growing more silent.

Solara’s frown melted as sorrow veiled over her complexion at the sight of her friend. “Of course. I suppose one is long overdue,” she said, smiling to Mereo with softness as she got up from the desk.

Mereo’s gazed focused on her, lips curling up just enough to notice; their agreement being in the silent gaze they shared. But as they turned to leave, Solara wasn’t quite sure if she actually heard Mereo murmur under her breath with gritted teeth: “They should’ve told me sooner,” or if it was just a figment of her imagination as she couldn’t picture her beast of a friend murmuring anything.

She glanced to Mereo from the corner of her eye, searching for any signs of confirmation for what she supposedly had just heard. Mereo’s expression had fallen back to that of a blank stare into distance, a telling sign of her being deep in thought. I think… She probably thought out loud. A careful smile rose back to Solara’s lips as Mereo started leading her forward without a word. She’s not blaming herself, I know that much, but whoever it is that didn’t inform her of the situation faster than this… Well, I feel sorry for the poor soul.

---

As they walked down the corridor, only the sounds of their steps echoed from the walls. During their travels there had been many silences that had fallen between them, but none had borne the weight of this one. Mereo’s gaze was on the floor, and though her expression was stern and unwavering, it spoke of her worry. Solara knew that Mereo was the type to never show even the slightest traces of weakness, but she wasn’t made of stone. She had feelings just like everyone else, and this, this was her sorrow. It was woven into the unsaid words that hung in the air, and hidden behind her eyes that now seemed distant.

They reached a door, but before Mereo could open it, Solara placed her hand on Mereo’s shoulder. A soft smile emerged on Solara’s lips; her eyes instead filled with grief as they looked at each other for a moment that seemed longer than what it must’ve actually been. The frown on Mereo’s expression softened and a careful smile tugged the corners of her lips as well, while her other hand curled into a fist. Mereo turned to face Solara, nudging her onto her shoulder with the said hand, before taking a hold of the handle with the other.

Solara only nodded in reply, letting go of Mereo as she opened the door.

Leo was standing next to the bed with a blank expression, sunlight cascading into the room from the window, under which laid a figure. Solara looked at the young lion as his eyes still lingered on his brother, while Mereo closed the door.

The pair of green eyes finally turned to look at them, giving the two a stern gaze that lacked his former enthusiasm and cheerfulness. All of which was more than understandable, but still filled Solara with melancholy.

Mereo only nodded to her brother as she walked over to the bed, the two siblings standing on opposite sides of the bed like guardians to their brother. Silence hung heavy over them as neither had anything to say, or perhaps too much to say.

Solara saw Leo’s hand curling into a fist, and by instinct she moved closer to him from the foot of the bed. But as she did so, she felt another tug deep in her chest. As if pulled by threads of silken cobweb, her eyes turned to the figure that laid in the bed, and nothing could have prepared her for what followed. Despite all the whispers of the walls, the lingering implores and the unexplained warmth, she couldn’t have anticipated the twisting of strings of fate around her heart. She stopped in place, seeing nothing but him as she placed one of her hands on the footboard of the bed, fingers curling around it.

Her ears registered the fight that erupted between Leo and Mereo, but it was distant as if in a dream. There as something about Mereo being wrong about their brother, and Mereo shutting his opinions down, but Solara couldn’t concentrate on it. Not any of it. All she felt was the entwining of golden threads around her soul, into a tight embrace, one that had previously only existed as passing breaths, but now pulled her closer and closer.

But she knew that she couldn’t. She couldn’t just sit at his bedside and take his hand onto hers, letting herself to be submerged into the endless ocean of the fondest emotions. She couldn’t. No. And yet the threads kept pulling, and wrapped tighter around her heart, sinking into it, clenching it and tearing it, but still… she couldn’t.

And the worst part was that she couldn’t explain why she felt the unexplained deep desire to hold his hand, and assure him that it was all going to be alright. She couldn’t hold him in her arms and stroke his hair, while humming a gentle tune to his ear. And, for the life of her, she couldn’t tell why she had such feelings for a stranger. But he feels familiar. As if I’ve known him all my life. How- why am I-? I just feel like crawling into the bed and laying down next to him would be the most natural thing in the world. I could nuzzle against his neck and press a gentle kiss onto his cheek while placing my hand on his chest and…. And what am I thinking?! There is absolutely no reason for me to feel like this. Yes, he’s handsome I’ll give him that, and I’ve been told that… what have I actually been told? Well, Mereo calls him stupid constantly, but I take it that it’s all just because they’re siblings. I know that Leo looks up to him, so he must be very capable… But none of that explains anything. I’ve seen aesthetically pleasing, or handsome, men before who’ve been courteous and kind, and I’ve never felt such longing for them. Her fingers curled tighter around the footboard as she battled with herself.

Then a memory flashed through her mind. Solara remembered her mother telling her about something like this when she was young, but much like most children, she hadn’t imprinted the conversation into her mind. What was it that she said? Something about… “Your father and I, we gravitated towards each other. It was something that neither of us anticipated, but it was… like a cosmic dance where I was being pulled to him, as much as he was pulled to me. And for this brief passing second, we call life, we’ll keep tumbling towards each other, refusing to let go.” Something like that. I think it was along those lines. So… Is that what this is? Lo- Lov- No. It can’t be. I don’t know him, unlike my parents who knew each other. My fate isn’t tied to him… and even if it was, it doesn’t mean that his would be tied to mine. These whispers of belonging, they must be mistaken. The Tree of Binding Fates might be yet to tell me… She swallowed and was woken from her thought with a slamming door as Mereo left the room. Leaving the three of them in silence.

Leo’s brows were furrowed and he clenched his jaw, his entire body seeming tense.

“It’s going to be alright Leo,” Solara tried as she took a few steps closer to him with an empathetic smile.

“But aneue shouldn’t say that! Aniue has been working so hard for the squad, and when he comes back, he’ll prove her wrong!” His statement was firm and filled with young lion’s pride.

Solara placed her hand onto his shoulder, feeling him relax under her touch.

“I just… I just wish that I could help him recover,” Leo muttered, probably for the first time in his life.

His statement radiated with the purest of wishes, which took Solara aback for a moment, as she felt her already bleeding heart, cry for him, for the both of them.

“He knows that you’re here, standing by him,” Solara comforted while casting another soft smile to his direction.

“How can you know?” Leo asked while turning to her, his eyes pleading as he wanted to believe her statement.

“Well,” she paused for a moment as her thumb brushed the crumbs of uncertainty from his shoulder. “I’ve been told that people in a coma can still hear what happens around them. So, he hears your voice and what you tell him. And even if you didn’t talk to him, or in the unlikely event where he couldn’t hear you for some other reason, I’m certain that he feels your strong mana around, rooting for him to come back.” She paused once more as Leo processed her words. “He knows that you’re there for him. I’m sure of it. You’ve always believed in him, and he’ll always believe in you.”

The young lion blinked and a careful smile emerged onto his lips as he looked at his brother.

“But,” Leo paused, thinking how he should formulate his question. “If I want to make sure that he knows that I’m here, I should just talk to him?” He asked, turning to look at Solara once again.

She only nodded as a reply, while retracting her hand as she saw certainty rising back to his eyes.

“Does it matter what I talk to him about?” He continued, looking at Solara intently.

“Hmmm,” she hummed while her eyes shifted to the ceiling as she thought. “I don’t believe it does. I’ve heard that some even read books to their loved ones because they don’t really know what to say, so they’ve felt that to be an easy starting point.” She smiled as her gaze fell back to Leo, who was still staring at Solara with wide eyes. “Is that something you’d like to try?” Solara continued as her head tilted a bit, the comforting smile ever-present on her complexion.

Leo’s gaze shifted to his brother as he thought. “I don’t really know that many storybooks…” he mumbled as his gaze fell to the floor. The veil of sympathy wrapped tighter around Solara’s expression as the corners of her lips tugged further, for she felt the bond these two brothers shared, and which made the moment all the more melancholic.

“Well, do you know if he had one? Or if there was one that he used to read when he was younger?” She inquired, hoping to lead his train of thought forth into a haven of hope. And as his expression brightened, quite like the light of awaking dawn which repels the shadows of night each morning with the rising sun, making Solara feel warmth spreading across her body.

“Yes! There was a book he said he liked when he was my age! It was… um…” Leo seemed to have regained his energetic self in a blink of an eye. He put a hand on his hip as another scratched his head, while he tried to remember the name of the book. “I can’t remember,” he admitted before continuing. “But he gave me the book! So, I can just read it to him and he knows that I’m here, right?” Enthusiasm seeped from his entire being, his both hands now held in front of him, ready to face the obstacles laid before him.

Solara nodded to him, her action only fuelling him further.

“I’ll go get it right now!” He exclaimed and started running.

Solara followed him to the doorway and called out after him:” Leo! There’s time for that later, but you should…” her voice faded with the sentence as the vermillion haired boy had already disappeared behind a corner. “Get something to eat first…” she finished her sentence, out loud, but speaking to no one. Her posture slouched forth as she sighed, but regained it as soon as she heard steps approaching her.

She turned around to see Randal walking to her direction with a cape in hand.

“Hello,” she greeted as she turned around, giving him a smile.

“Hello,” he replied and paused, thinking if he should make a comment or not. “You’ll have to excuse Leopold, he’s quite energetic and very quick on his feet.” He stated, his tone staying steady and formal.

“Ah, it’s completely understandable,” she smiled, loosely waving her hand in front of her as if to brush off the action.

Randal only nodded as a reply, while taking the last few steps towards her and handed out the cape he was holding. “Here’s the cape Captain Mereoleona requested for you. Welcome to the squad,” he smiled.

As far as Solara could tell, he was being sincere, but given that she had just taken over some of his work, there was something she wished to ask. Since she knew that the action could be seen as interfering with his territory. Thus, she felt a compelling need to clarify something to him as she took the cape from him, holding it in her arms. “Thank you. I’m glad to be here. But can I clarify something with you?” She asked, her smile turning to that of slight hesitance.

Randal’s expression became that of intrigue as he replied: “Of course.” There was no judgement, nor even a hint of malice in his eyes, which alleviated Solara’s worry.

“Well, as the newest addition to the squad I know that I technically shouldn’t be taking care of any of the paperwork, and my intention isn’t to step on your toes. So, if you feel like I’m overstepping my boundaries, and crossing onto your territory as the Vice Captain, I do hope that you tell me.” She gave him an awkward smile, hoping that she had succeeded in relaying her intentions.

Randal seemed surprised for a brief second before the expression faded, and a smile rose to his lips as his gaze fell to the side. “Well, as long as we’re having an honest conversation,” he paused long enough to gaze back at Solara. “I’m glad to finally have someone to do the work with me. You see, before the work was divided between myself and Captain Fuegoleon. And during the time he has been incapable of completing those duties, it has all fallen onto my shoulders. So, I’m- I’m afraid that I’ve fallen behind,” he admitted, a shadow of shame passed over his complexion and he sighed. “I’m just glad to have someone to help me, and I trust that Captain Mereoleona wouldn’t assign you to it if she wasn’t certain that you could take care of it,” he smiled, gratitude radiating from his expression. And with that the last traces of hesitance washed from Solara, making her feel lucky to have been welcomed with such warmth.

“I do hope to live up to the expectations,” she chuckled. “But there are a few questions I’d like to ask regarding the forms and lingo. As this isn’t my native language, I seem to find myself struggling a bit already,” she admitted with a slight frown.

“Of course. I’m happy to help the helper,” he smirked with good will, making Solara giggle. He joined her in her laughter for a brief moment as they shared gratitude for one another.

Once the laughter settled down, she continued: “So, is this a good moment or… um?” She asked, tilting her head slightly.

“Well dinner is served soon, so we can start at the dinner table if you feel comfortable with it. Or then we can talk afterwards.” He thought out loud, his gaze shifting to the ceiling before falling back to her.

“Either is fine for me. After all, in addition to my questions you need to fill me in on the most pressing matters that should be taken care of, post haste,” she shrugged.

“True,” Randal nodded as silence fell between them for a moment. Both thinking where should they start.

“Well, if we start already on our way to the mess hall, we’ll get matters moving quicker,” she stated, earning another nod of agreement form Randal.

Solara closed the door to Fuegoleon’s sickroom, seeing his form from the corner of her eye, which caused the golden strings to clench around her heart once more. A veil of sorrow passed her complexion as the walls whispered to her again, imploring her to stay. I can’t. She only thought, trying to brush it all away from herself, but only succeeding to press it deep down into the back of her head. This’ll pass. I’m sure of it. This is a crush and nothing more, so it’ll pass. All I have to do is wait it out. She tried to convince herself, force herself to believe that to be the case, but the flicker of hope is one the hardest thing to snuff out, only allowing her to deny its existence. So, it remained, small, and quiet, but it remained. She could push it away as much as she wanted, and try to deny it to the best of her ability, but it still flickered.

The door closed, alleviating her aching heart. The feeling grew quieter as they walked away, beginning the discussion on what Solara already knew about the tasks at hand, and moving to comparing the differences in legal procedures between Clover Kingdom and Thea. But only to the extent where they were able to confirm or invalidate similar practises, based on which they’d be able to determine areas that needed to be addressed further. Their conversation carrying through the dinner, Solara being seated near Randal in order to keep the conversation going. Mereo appeared, only making a comment on them finding common ground rather quickly, but not otherwise interfering with the conversation.

Everyone seemed friendly, making introductions and some friendly conversation, but still giving room for Solara and Randal to finish their discussion. The only one to arrive late for dinner, was Leo, a frown painted over his expression once more.

Solara’s brow furrowed at the sight of him, but she didn’t wish to hurt the young lion’s pride and address the issue right there, in front of everyone.

“Hey, Leo?” She asked in a suitable point of the flowing conversation.

“Yeah?” He asked, clearly trying to hide his troubles and putting on a brave face. But his tone spoke far too loud of the worry that must’ve curled into his bones once more.

“There’s something I’d like to talk about with you a bit later on, if that’s okay?” She gave him a reassuring smile, making the corners of his lips turn slightly upwards.

“Yeah, it’s alright.” He stated with a weak smile, a flicker of gratitude passing through his eyes.

“Wonderful,” she only said, not wanting to make a scene of the situation, all others seeming to pay no attention to the brief interaction, or thinking nothing of it. Only Mereo raised an eyebrow, but opted to say nothing.

---

After dinner Solara and Randal spent a considerable amount of time in the Captain’s, and Randal’s offices, revising documents and laying groundwork for the following day, sun already having set as they were able to wrap things up. Solara left Randal’s office, only to find Leo waiting behind a corner.

“Hey,” she greeted, giving him a tired smile.

“Hey,” he replied his gaze falling to the side.

“What’s going on?” She asked, as guilt of making him wait this long tugged at her heartstrings.

“I-,” he paused as he held out a book, his eyes falling to its cover. “I tried to read it to him, but I kept skipping over lines, or reading them twice, and then sometimes I had to stop to pronounce words correctly, and it wasn’t good story telling…” his confession fell from him onto the book and tumbled down onto the floor with a loud clang that echoed around the hallway.

Seeing him so defeated twisted her heart, subsiding her own fatigue as sadness washed over her. “Maybe it’d help if you first read the chapter to yourself quietly, and then read it to him,” she suggested, trying to meet Leo’s gaze.

He only grit his teeth, his fingers curling tighter around the book. “I tried that, but it didn’t help,” he forced the words out of his throat, their sharp corners slicing his tongue on their way out.

A brief silence fell between them as Solara search for words of comfort to give him, but felt powerless to help him. After all, there was so little she could actually do for him, and that little felt so inadequate.

“May I?” she asked while holding her hand out, Leo’s gaze lifting only enough to reach the tips of her fingers.

He said nothing, but handed the book to her. His eyes travelled with the motion as Solara held the book out to herself. She turned the pages to the first chapter, letting her index finger glide across the lines. The spacing between the lines is quite thin actually. It’d be difficult to keep track while reading out loud even if using a finger as a cursor. She thought for a moment, but as she became aware of her note sheet, that was still in her hand from her talks with Randal, an idea dawned on her.

“Hmm,” she hummed as she took the paper and folded it to reveal a blank surface. She placed the folded edge under the first line and began to read, moving the paper and revealing new lines as the story advanced, but stopped after the first paragraph. Her eyes lifted from the book and met with Leo’s, whose were now wide open, his mouth agape. “See, you can use a blank piece of paper to help you keep track of the line you’re on,” she smiled and held the book out, handing it back to Leo.

“You should read to him!” Leo exclaimed, making Solara’s brows shoot up in surprise.

“I-,” she paused as her expression softened back to what it had been, “Wasn’t this supposed to be for him to know that *you* are there for him?” she asked, but feeling a tiny bit flattered.

“What matters is that he knows that somebody is there for him! It doesn’t matter if it’s me reading or someone else, as long as he knows,” Leo stated firmly while taking Solara’s hand and started pulling her towards the sick room.

“Leo, I-,” she began, but didn’t really know what to say. Still Leo heard the hesitance in her voice, so he turned around to look at her, his hand still holding on.

“Would you read to him, please?” His tone was stern and determined, telling her just how much this meant to him. But what made Solara unable to turn down his request, even if she had wanted to, was the implore in his eyes.

She looked straight at him, seeing that he wasn’t going to give up without resistance. And quite frankly, she had no objections in going along with his wish, given that he indeed was fine with her reading in his place.

She blinked slowly, her expression melting to that of a soft smile and sympathetic gaze as she replied: “if that’s what you wish.”

Leo’s eyes lit up once more as a prominent smile rose to his lips in triumph. “I can listen too, can’t I?” He asked, excitement radiating through his question as his grip of her grew more intense with his enthusiasm.

“I can’t see why not,” she said, tilting her head as she hadn’t really imagined herself ever reading to people, but saw no harm in it. I can’t really say that I’m a storyteller, but if it makes him feel better, suppose it’s alright. She thought as Leo started pulling her forward once more.

“Um, Leo? Where are we going?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“To aniue! Let’s start the story already today!” He didn’t as much as turn his head back to Solara, only focused to move forward.

She let out a faint sigh. It’s already late, and we both should be going to bed… But if it’s just for tonight, then suppose it’ll be fine. For the future we need to establish some kind of a schedule though, but… as things are already in motion, suppose staying up a little bit later for today is acceptable. She frowned slightly, but said nothing as she knew this to mean a lot to him, destroying his newfound feeling of security and comfort being the last thing she wished to do.

“Leo, there’s no need for you to pull me. I can walk on my own,” her tone stayed calm and gentle, but was spoken loudly enough for him to make no mistake.

“Oh right. Sorry,” he stated as he glanced to her and let go, rubbing the back of his head briefly.

“It’s alright,” she replied as they continued forward, a more profound silence lingering in the air as the base was starting to quiet down. And as it did, the pull towards the sick room grew more intense. The tugging and twisting made her want to run, but it’d do no good. It’d serve no purpose and she had no right. She grit her teeth, once more wanting to snuff out the lingering feeling, but didn’t get very far.

Eventually they reached the room, Solara forcing herself to keep her gaze away from the man who laid on the bed. Which proved to be difficult as she sat down on a chair next to him, Leo moving a chair onto the opposite side, facing her.

Just concentrate on the book and take deep breaths. This’ll pass. It’s nothing. She held the book out and began reading, Leo listening to her intently as the story unfolded. Minutes ticked away, but none noticed the time passing, as they were immersed with the plot. And as the first chapter ended, Solara put down the book, telling Leo that they should get to sleep. He protested, but gave in as they agreed to continue tomorrow.

Darkness prevailed outside, and the only light source in the room was a single candle that cast its soft glow around, shadows dancing with the flickering flame. Solara encouraged Leo to get some sleep as she summoned her radiating mana skin, extending from her fingertips as if as claws, to cast some more light into the room before snuffing out the candle.

“I’m not that tired,” Leo yawned, making Solara raise an eyebrow at him; a hint which he understood and got up to leave.

Solara stayed behind to move the chairs away from the bed, making a few yawns of her own. But as she passed the man in deep, deep slumber, she couldn’t help but whisper out a question: “Who are you to me?” A pointless question she needed to ask for reasons that she couldn’t fathom, and yet… despite knowing that she wouldn’t get an answer, she felt strange comfort rising from it. As if by acknowledging him, they would have gotten closer; the tugging of the strings of fate easing up for the moment. She scoffed at herself for being ridiculous, and shook her head while making her way to the door.

But as she was about to make her leave, the door being open by only a mere crack anymore, she stopped and whispered: “Good night.” Her voice barely reached her own ears, the action making her feel like a fool once more. But with those words she was able to close the door and retire for the night, wondering if staying here was actually a good idea as she questioned her sanity. But still, leaving seemed more painful than it should. So, for now, she settled for rubbing her temples and trying to work her way around the emotions that she shouldn’t have had. This will pass. A sentence that became a mantra for her. A mantra that lost gravity each time she repeated it.

[amarabliss]

Galahdian Dreams - 7 (Nyx Ulric/Reader)

Synopsis: Your father was the king of Insomnia. He was good and just. You never thought you’d meet anyone like him after he was taken from the world. Your Uncle Regis, has taken the throne and followed through on your father’s plans. It was good to see the city in capable hands.

Enter Nyx Ulric, refugee, Glaive, fighter…how is it he can see all your secrets? He knows how to set you off and he’s promised to not let you go…(AU for sure, Regis wasn’t supposed to take the throne, and our lovely Nyx has more of a past then we thought…)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

**WARNING** please be aware there are depictions of violence that may be triggering. Please remember to spread tolerance in the world and not hate. 

Be the first step to a better future.

Nyx groaned as he rolled over his bed reaching for his phone that had just went off. Everything was hazy from the night before, but as he read the text from you it slowly started come back into focus.

Y/N – Captain Drautos got me back…please rest well… (1am)

Y/N – Don’t think because you have the day off gets you off the hook. (9am)

Y/N – Please take care of youself…(Now)

You misspelled a word he smiled a little. That wasn’t like you at all, you must’ve been very worried for him. He set his phone down as he threw his feet off his bed, the cold floor brought him back to the night before.

The both of you had only stayed for an hour more. Everyone begged you to come back. Even Crowe pulled you to the side and spoke to you for a while, which worried him…

“So…” He walked backwards as they headed back to the Citadel, “what’cha think?”

You smiled at him shoving your hands into his jacket to keep warm, “You have very nice friends.”

“And…” He smirked leaning forward looking at your face when you looked away.

“It was nice to not have the weight of expectations on my shoulders.” You looked back at him eyes bright with happiness, “It was nice to just talk about what I like to do without someone telling me to focus on something else. I hope I can go back.”

“You’re always welcome.” He stopped in front of you smiling, “Just let me know when you want to go…”

“Are all the wards like that one? With a market at the front?” You asked as he started walking next to you again.

“Other wards? This is the only one…” You stopped looking at him face dropping, “What is it?”

“That can’t be right…you can’t all live in that small area?” You shook your head when he confirmed that they did. It hadn’t even been ten minutes and already you were falling back into your royal role, “That wasn’t part of the plan…”

“Plan?” He titled his head looking at you confused.

“After the initial attack on Galahd my father drew up a plan for aid and refugees…” You put you hand to your face as worry and anger flashed in your eyes, “I helped him with it…there were specific things in place to allow for more people…to keep everyone safe.”

“Okay…well…” He stepped closer to you as he put his hand on your arm to try and comfort you, “we can worry about everything tomorrow…”

As you began to nod someone began to approach them shouting, “Hey! Get your hands off her!”

Nyx turned to look and was met with a haymaker. A bright light flashed behind his eyes as fell to the ground landing hard on his arm. He heard you cry out alarmed as he tried to get up receiving a swift kick into the stomach forcing what air he had out, “Stop! Stop it!”

Nyx groaned and grunted as a group of men gathered around him beating him. You kept screaming at them to stop as he managed to cover his head, “Stop!”

“Keep her quiet! She’s no better than them if she’s hanging around with them…” Nyx felt his fist ball up hearing that. You let out a muffled scream…it sounded like you were struggling.

By order of the king, Glaives were not to use their abilities on citizens of Insomnia. In this case, he needed to protect his charge…a grey area leaning favorably in his direction…he hoped.

He reached out drawing the electricity from the lamps around him as a source. He waited until he gathered enough before he grabbed one of his assailant’s legs sending them flying away with the electric force.

The surprise attack paused the abuse he was receiving enough for him to roll out of the way to his knees. He stood up looking at the other two who had been attacking him and the third holding you back. When he finally spoke, his voice was deep like a low growl, “Let her go.”

“Shit…shit he’s a Glaive…” The one was wise enough to see that at least. The mention of that gave the other two hesitant looks.

“Get your friend…” Nyx continued his low tone as he balled up his fist letting electricity crackle around it again, “and get out of here…”

The two moved around him slowly to collect their buddy. The other one held onto you for a moment longer before he shoved you toward him taking off. Nyx caught you watching them run down the street. Once he was sure they were away his body shook before his knees gave out.

“Nyx!” You tried so hard to hold him up, but he was too heavy. You crumpled under him, half guiding him down, cradling his head so he didn’t hit the ground, “Nyx…no no no…open your eyes…Nyx!”

He cracked them slightly grimacing a little, “Ar-are you okay?”

“Me…no…don’t worry about me…” You shook your head putting your hand against the side of his face. He must’ve looked bad because your face was red with tears, “Oh Six…What do I do?”

He groaned reaching into his pants with difficulty pulling out his phone unlocking it, “Call…Titus…”

“Titus…who…” Was the last thing he heard from you before he passed out.

He washed his hands in the sink after using the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. His nose was swollen and broken, lip cut, large gash on the side of his head ending somewhere in his hair…and bruises…he couldn’t blame you for being terrified. Head wounds bleed like a bitch.

He stood up straight clenching his jaw as the bandage around his ribs began giving him resistance. Astrals this was gonna be a rough couple of days…

He limped back to bed laying down, gently letting his head plop down into his pillow. He shut his eyes just about finding rest when his phone buzzed. He let out a frustrated sigh reaching for it. He shook his head as he answered, “Titus…”

“Ah…he lives.” Titus didn’t sound completely furious yet, “How are you feeling?”

“Like I was jumped and had the shit kicked out of me…” Nyx smirked a little shutting his eyes, “Oh wait…”

“Yeah you’re laughing now…it could’ve been a lot worse.” He could hear him rustling through papers, “Seriously, how are you doing?”

“Sore…super headache…” Nyx listed off as he rolled to his side groaning, “hurts to breath…”

“All normal things to feel. Crowe is afraid you might have a concussion; I think you’re fine. Regardless, everyone is going to be calling you today.” Titus told him and before he could protest, “And if you don’t answer Libertus is going to come over and sit with you.”

Nyx let out a frustrated growl opening his eyes, “Fine…”

“You know why…” Titus started as Nyx interrupted.

“Yeah…yeah…I know.” He rolled back to his back staring at the ceiling, “…is Y/N alright?”

“Physically…yes…not a scratch on her.” Titus told him as more shuffling occurred.

“And mentally?” Nyx felt his chest tighten thinking back to when he first met you.

“Scared…upset…” Titus sighed clearly stopping whatever work he was working, “I got her back here with no one noticing…though I’m not as stealthy as you.”

“I’m sure you did great.” Nyx frowned letting silence fill the line for a moment, “Who’s with her?”

“Pelna…I figured his sunny attitude might help put her at ease.” He told him with a sigh, “If that isn’t…”

“It’s fine.” Nyx shook his head, “I’m not worried about anything…I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“No, that’s not what…” Titus began again as Nyx interrupted once more, “Dammit Nyx! For once in your life just listen to me!”

Nyx fell silent waiting for him to go on, “You have to take care of yourself. You are more important then you think. Last night…last night could have been the end of us…so please…I will take care of everything here. You just heal.”

Nyx shut his eyes nodding before he spoke quietly, “Alright…I understand.”

“…thank you.” Titus sighed, “I know that it’s hard for you to just sit by.”

“Yeah…” Nyx frowned a little as he opened his eyes again, “I think Y/N’s figured me out…”

“What do you mean?” The sound of a stapler rang out on the other side.

“I think she knows who I am…” There was a definite pause on the other side, “I didn’t tell her…”

“Are you going to?” Titus waited for an answer but received none, “Nyx?”

“I think I have too…” Nyx sighed frowning putting his free hand to his face, “So much for anonymity…”

“Will you leave your position?” Titus asked sounding eager.

“Not if I don’t have to.” Hearing a heavy sigh made him smile, “You didn’t think it’d be that easy, did you?”

“You realize that opens a very big can of worms…” Titus told him as another stapler sounded.

“Doesn’t have to…what are you doing?” He winced as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Dossiers… it’s a new policy the higher ups want. We need to have information on everyone who’s a Glaive.” Titus told him begrudgingly.

“Is something happening?” Nyx sat up letting out a curse putting a hand to his chest.

“You alright?” Nyx couldn’t help but smile hearing the Captain’s concern.

“Yep…just me being me. Can’t sit still.” He told him picking fuzz of his sheets.

“Just don’t be stupid…please…my heart can’t take the stress.” Nyx laughed before he groaned. Titus chuckled sounding pleased in his pain, “As for if something going on…do you really think they’d tell me?”

Nyx sighed draping his arm over his knee, “I can do some digging…”

“Nyx…” It was the same exhausted tone he used to give him back home.

“I can do it right from here…won’t even leave the house.” Nyx told him with a smile, “I just happen to know a Crownsguard who has a parent that protects the king…”

“I wouldn’t be able to stop you even if I was there babysitting you myself…” Titus sighed. Nyx could practically see him rubbing his face in frustration, “Just please…”

“I will. I won’t leave…I’ll just sit in my chair or lay in bed.” Nyx reassured him, “I’ll even answer the phone when everyone calls.”

“Appreciate that…take it easy.” Titus told him hanging up.

Nyx sighed looking around his apartment. He needed to clean this place…luckily he had the perfect excuse not to do that today. He chuckled to himself falling back gently. He looked at his phone in his hand pulling up your messages.

He stared at them for a long time before he worked up the courage to text you back.

Nyx – Glad you got back in one piece…really sorry I wasn’t on my game.

… … …

His eyes widened when he saw the little dots almost immediately alerting him that you were responding.

Y/N – It wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry that my people are so full of hate.

Y/N – How are you feeling?

He smiled involuntarily at the question before his fingers went to work.

Nyx – I have had better days, but I’ve definitely had worse…

… … …

Why did his heart skip simply by seeing dots? Yeah…sure he thought you were attractive, but he didn’t know what you liked to do besides gardening. You were book smart, eloquent with your words, and you used to be linked with your people...something since falling away from the light you lost.

But was a month of hanging around one another enough time to really know anyone? Was taking you out to meet his friends more then just trying to get you to trust him?

Y/N – Captain Drautos was sure your ribs were broken…if you need anything, please ask.

Nyx – Nothing I can’t handle. I’ll be back in a couple of days.

Y/N – Take more time if you need it. Pelna is doing a great job in your absence.

Nyx – I bet he’s not as quiet as I am though. Studying in the library must be hard…

Y/N – You’re not wrong, he likes to chat, but it’s okay. I don’t feel like studying today.

He chuckled and continued carrying on a conversation with you for a while before his eyes began to get heavy, lowering with each blink until they finally shut.

When his eyes opened again, he was laying under a large palm tree in hammock. The breeze smelled sweet as it blew across him. He smiled feeling content under the Galahdian sky.

“Nyx!” He looked over seeing Lena running toward him big smile on his face already dressed for their special guests, “They’re here!”

He groaned waving his hand at her before rolling over, “Psh…”

“You don’t want to meet your future?” She leaned on the hammock looking at him, “I heard she’s really pretty…”

“She’s probably pale and pasty…” Nyx covered his head with his arm as she leaned closer to him.

Lena scowled poking him in the ribs making him jump, “Mom worked really hard on this…and you agreed to it! So, don’t disappoint her!”

He peeked his eye open looking through past his arm at her letting out a big sigh, “I can’t get out of this one, can I?”

“’Fraid not, kinda a requirement to meet your betrothed before the wedding.” Lena crossed her arms cocking her hip to one side. She was going to make someone very happy in the future, and also be very frustrating to handle.

He rolled his eyes hopping out of the hammock smirking at her, “When did you get so smart?”

“It’s a natural talent I have. It must’ve skipped you!” She let out a laugh as he started attacking her sides with tickles, “Nyx stop! Stop it!”

He laughed a little letting her run off as he reached for his achkan jacket. He knew his responsibility he just wanted to avoid it as long as he could. He never felt like he’d be able to do his father justice. Though his mother told him to rule with his own heart, and not his father’s…it was hard not to want to live up to a man who instilled strength in his nation.

He closed each button walking slowly toward the entrance of their home. He’d heard about the Lucian capitol and he wondered if it’s princess would be underwhelmed by them just living in a large estate instead of castle reaching for the sky. He also wondered if you’d even wanted to do this or if King Malcolm was forcing you into it for the resources…

“Nyx…late as always.” He smiled leaning down kissing his mother’s cheeks before she looked him over, “At least you’re dressed for the occasion...”

“I know how important this is to you mom.” He took his place next to her as Lena took her spot on the other side, “I know how important this is for our country.”

Selena looked at him letting out a sigh, “Good…I know this arrangement may not be ideal…but I do hope one day you both find a way to love one another.”

He looked at her and smiled, “I’m sure it will all work out.”

She smiled at him giving his arm a supportive squeeze before she stepped out. Lena looked at him and he gave her a wink before following them both out to meet their arriving guests. He stood on the steps behind his mother and sister as sleek black car pulled up.

Two men stepped out looking around the area before they both went to the back doors opening them. The first to step out was King Malcolm. He smiled greeting his mother with a low bow. He turned waving his arm out to an older woman introducing her as his wife.

His eyes shifted to the third person stepping out on the other side of the car. No doubt the woman he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with. Sunlight bounced off your hair as you looked out over the forest.

When you turned, he felt a million butterflies flutter in his stomach. You had kind eyes and a beautiful smile. You moved with grace around the car as you told the young man with dark hair following you around to back off, “Gladio it’s fine. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t…”

“Well just lemme know…” He crossed his arms looking up towards Nyx with a glare as he whispered toward you, “Can’t be too careful!”

You shushed him making Nyx chuckle. It reminded him of himself and how he interacted with his own guards. Luckily when he was at home he wasn’t required to tote them around. One thing was for sure you were at least playful.

“And this is my daughter, Y/N.” Your father introduced you to his mother.

You smiled at her bowing low like your father, “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you. My father has said nothing but wonderful things about Galahd and its people.”

“Oh my…she is bright, isn’t she?” Selena smiled glancing toward Nyx, “Perhaps this is a blessing and you can teach my son some etiquette of the court?”

Nyx rolled his eyes a little stepping down as his mother introduced him and his sister, “This is my younger daughter, Selena.”

“You can call me Lena, little less confusing.” She curtsied excitedly with curious eyes.

“And this my son and heir to my position, Nyx.” Selena waved toward him.

He stepped next to his mother bowing to your parents, then bowing to you offering his hand out, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Your father did not do you justice.”

When you took his hand, he kissed the top of it making you blush, “The pleasure is mine.”

“Wonderful.” Selena smiled at them all throwing her hands out gently, “We’ll let you all get settled before we have lunch. I’m sure the boat ride over was long.”

“We had fair weather and calm seas…” Malcolm began to speak as he and your mother walked with the queen.

Nyx let go of your hand looking at Lena nodding his head for her to skedaddle. She smirked at him before stepping up to you, “I just wanted to say welcome to Galahd. If you have any questions, it’s probably better to ask me or mom…”

“Lena…” He coughed a little as she laughed walking away, “She didn’t mean that.”

“Oh, it seems she did or else she wouldn’t have said it.” You smirked at him eyes twinkling.

He laughed a little as you both began going up the stairs, “She’s an instigator is more like it.”

“Troublemaker you mean…” You stopped turning around seeing your guard slowly creeping up behind you, “You do have better things to do. I’m in good hands from what my father tells me. The prince is well versed in fighting.”

Nyx felt warmth spread throughout his shoulders when you looked at him smiling as your guard moved past you both, “You trust your father’s opinion of me?”

“He’s a good judge of character. We wouldn’t be here otherwise, and I’m certain he wouldn’t have asked me to marry you if you were not a good man.” You looked back making a face, “What is that whistling noise?”

“Whistling?” He looked up as fear rose in his chest. He saw bombs drifting downward from Niflheim ships.

He reached for you as walked inside…

“No!” He shot up letting out cry of pain rolling to the side putting a hand on his side. He took in several sharp breaths trying to get the pain under control.

“Hey hey hey…take it easy.” He looked up as Crowe came into view helping him to sit up, “That must’ve been some dream.”

“Just…” He took in a few more deep breaths, “…never mind…what are you doing here?”

“I figured you were hungry…and I also thought I’d check you over again.” She told him reaching for his phone waving it in his face, “And you slept through three check-ins.”

“Ah…so Titus sent you.”  He groaned again as he leaned back on his elbows “I appreciate the concern, but really I’m fine.”

“Clearly…” She rolled her eyes tossing his phone next to home before she began to undo the bandages, “You really got wrecked last night. Had us all worried…If Y/N hadn’t called Titus…”

“I’d still be okay because she would have figured it out.” Nyx interrupted her.

“I suppose…but Nyx if you’re going to be bringing her around…you should really consider teaching her a thing or two.” Crowe told him with a sigh as she started feeling his side.

“She knows how to fight…it’s just…” He shook his head wincing away from her touch, “They stopped her training pretty much as soon as she started…no power, no fighting I guess.”

“Well you should give her a refresher if her own people are gonna be bigots.” She shook her head started to wrap him up again.

He didn’t respond as he chewed his bottom lip. Crowe wasn’t wrong, it would benefit you to know some self-defense. He couldn’t be there every time, though he wouldn’t admit that.

He glanced at his phone as it went off. His eyes widened as the preview held the whole message.

Pelna – call y/n…

[jenovahh]

The Honey Pot - Ch. 11 - Sweet as Honey

“You would think you all would’ve learned by now…” Zenos sighs, exasperated, knocking a helpless man to the floor.

Your eyes are trained to that same floor, hands locked tight behind your back with Zenos’ sword in hand. You wish you could have ear plugs, ear muffs, anything so you could block out as much of this as possible.

“So weak and helpless are you, that you cannot even create your own form of income, that you must come and steal ours. Interfere with our shipments, rob our trucks mid transport, and sell our product with the audacity to claim it as your own.” Zenos monologues, circling the quivering man on the floor. “Isn’t that right, Foulques?”

The snow white hair of the Elezen is dirtied, covered in dust and soot. He lies in a mangled heap on the floor after Zenos had you forcibly break his legs earlier. It had taken all of your willpower to hold back the bile that threatened to come forth at the sound of his bones snapping in two.

“If you wanted to help redistribute, it was but a matter of contacting us. An arrangement could’ve been made. Instead, you let your greed cloud your judgement, and now here you are, broken on the floor.” Zenos cackles, placing the heel of his shoe on Foulques’ face. “What is a suitable punishment, you think? Personally, I am quite fond of death. After all, there is no greater way to ensure it won’t happen again by ensuring you are not alive to do so.”

Zenos presses down hard, uncaring of the man’s cries of pain. “Where’s that fire I had heard so much of, Foulques? I had heard talk of your strength and yet my guard snapped you in half as if you were but a twig.” He taunts, kicking Foulques onto his back, causing the Elezen to wheeze in pain. “No words? Really, how dull…”

Zenos reaches out his hand expectantly and you flinch, frowning as you pull his sword from behind your back. You place it gently in his hands, fingers touching as he moves to unsheathe the blade. “Well I suppose the message will be sent once your gang members come and find you bleeding out on the floor.” Zenos muses, tossing you the scabbard. “I’ll be sure to send some flowers to your children.”

Children?

“Zenos, wait!”

You block his blade with the scabbard, holding his deadly gaze. You have to talk fast. “Don’t kill him.” You whisper, doing your best to sound strong.

“You know that I must.” Zenos hisses, eyes narrowed on you.

“Just...he has kids, right? Sure they might want vengeance on you if their father is dead...but think ahead a bit more. If he lives, he can sow the seeds of hate in his children himself.” The words sicken you even to say them, but you can see Zenos’ stare visibly lighten as he considers your words. “To send him home broken and mangled, knowing he wasn’t even good enough to kill; what would be a better motivator?”

Your arms tremble beneath his strength, feet planted firmly on the ground to steady yourself to withstand his strength. You watch as Zenos closes his eyes in thought, a vicious smirk painting his lips. “Truly, you are a most valuable prize, my beast.” Suddenly the pressure is gone and you nearly tumble as a result. Zenos snags you by the waist to steady you until you can stand upright.

Turning back to Foulques, he crouches down to his level. “It looks like your false gods have seen fit to give you my mercy. Though, it would be in your best interests to do as she says. Train your children to kill me. I can wait. I am patient.” He chuckles, standing back to his full height. Stepping over Foulques, Zenos heads for the door without a single backwards glance.

You do the same, unable to look at the mangled man any longer.

The walk out of the Duskwights’ hideout is silent like most other raids. It had taken some time to actually get ahold of their leader Foulques, who seemed good at keeping his head low, and with good reason. It was only after Zenos had killed enough of his men did he decide to finally show his face. It seemed like there might be quiet negotiations as Zenos offered to handle things in Foulques’ office, only for him to order you to beat the man to near death.

At least you didn’t have to kill him.

Zenos didn’t seem to get any real enjoyment out of his kills; if anything the act bored him as much as anything else. He had even told you himself that it was merely a result of people refusing to follow orders and getting in his way. If he had enjoyed the act of killing, he would be hard pressed to find anyone to work for him. That did little to soothe your tumultuous thoughts, especially ever since your first outing.

“Perhaps, I can train you in this too.” Zenos muses, breath ghosting across your face. It’s entirely too warm with the furnace that is his body, feeling every single muscle against your own. “I know the savagery is within you. The desire to sink your fangs into my neck and drink deep of my life’s blood...I will see it brought out by my own hand.” He whispers, wiping away the last of your tears.

“You say you did not know what to expect. I suppose I am at fault for that.” He sighs, brushing stray hairs from your face. “So eager was I to fight you, I forgot to attend to other business...but no matter. You too will understand the nature of The Hunt.”

You could feel yourself steadily become immune to the suffering you inflicted on whatever poor gang you had to terrorize as the weeks went by. There were still times where you would nearly be pushed to your limit, but already you could tell your mind was protecting itself, learning to tune out the cries of pain as you shattered bones, made men bleed. Your sullen demeanor didn’t go unnoticed, Zenos seeming at first seeming proud before it turned into displeasure. Despite this, you still were made to accompany him on his excursions due to your role.

“You are distracted.”

You barely move to dodge Zenos as he swings to hit you, narrowly moving out of the way of his follow up hit. You’ve lost your balance as a result and Zenos is ever the opportunist, pursuing you like a hawk. Kicking your feet from under you, you crash into the floor, unable to get up as Zenos has already pinned you in place. Fist balled in your shirt, he stares down at you, but any joy of victory doesn’t show on his face. “Unacceptable.” He hisses, clenching his fist tighter, pulling you toward him.

Averting your eyes, you worry your bottom lip, ready for whatever speech he’s about to give you. “You were bound to catch up eventually.” You lie, and that seems to anger him more because he knows it’s a lie too.

“I am not ashamed to know you are my better, my beast. And I am not too stupid to see your mind is not fully here.” He growls, dropping you back to the floor, uncaring how you wince in pain. Caging you with his arms, he nears his face to your own, hair falling around you like a curtain. “Are you unwell?”

He doesn’t care, you tell yourself, trying to think of an excuse. “I’m fine, Zenos. I’ve just got stuff on my mind is all.” You huff, flashing him an annoyed look. “Now could you please get off me?”

His hands flex tighter around your wrists. “Make me.”

Brows furrowing together, you glare at him full on. “You know damn well I can’t get your heavy ass off me you giant.” You bite out, watching his signature smirk slide into place. “Zenos,”

“Does it make sense? That you are fully capable of throwing me over your shoulder, yet unable to free yourself from being pinned? Perhaps you like being under me…” He teases, failing to notice the way your face immediately flushes red.

“You actually know what you’re doing to immobilize me!” You bark back, trying to control your expresion. “Besides, w-who would want to be underneath you?” You stammer, suddenly unable to look him in the eye.

“Oh, plenty of people, my beast. Men and women alike, have shared my bed.” He purrs, nearing his face even closer to yours. Your breath comes faster, his lips not even an ilm away from your own. “Would you like to be next?”

“Like hell I would!” You renew your efforts to try and free yourself, unable to move as much as you’d like for fear of closing that gap. It’s warm, too warm, and getting warmer in places you know it shouldn’t. The more you struggle, the more the lower half of you tingles.

“Oh, you wound me. Am I not your type?” He continues to tease, tilting his head to bury his nose in your neck, breathing in deep. You start feeling lightheaded. “I promise to make it worth your while…” He purrs, the baritone of his voice rolling across your skin.

Would you really?

“If you weren’t my employee.”

Just like that he’s off of you, heading to grab a bottle of water from the mini fridge. You stare dumbly at the ceiling, slowly pulling yourself off the floor. “E-Excuse me?”

“As fun as it is to tease you, my beast, even I must try and retain some degree of professionalism. It would not do to have relations with my employees, the media would twist and mangle any story beyond repair.” Pulling his hair down from its ponytail, he flashes you a smug look. “Plus we don’t have the time. A hospital my father sponsored is opening today, and we must attend. Your attire should be waiting for you in your room. I will take longer than usual getting ready, so don’t rush on my account.” Saying nothing more he steps out the door, leaving you alone and aroused in the gym.

You wait until he’s far down the hall to scream in frustration.

Marching to your room, you curse him the entire way; how could you be so foolish? Of course he was only messing with you, of course he didn’t actually want you--

Of course you were foolish for thinking otherwise--

You stamp the disappointment down before it can grow into something worse, thankful you at least the satisfaction of being able to fling the door to your room open and slam it closed hard enough to make the walls shake. Undressing, you quickly turn the shower on to blasting, the cold waters chilling your soul as you stand under the spray.

How could he go on about professionalism with how he treated you? It was simple enough to say that he didn’t want you instead of lying. If he truly cared about being professional he would call you by your name, he’d treat you nicer, he’d not pin you between his muscled legs and arouse you so…

A bastard in every sense of the word except the correct one, he was. You had never hated him more than you did in that moment. More than when he had found you. More than when you watched him kill innocents in front of you. If only you could strike fear into his heart the same way he did to you.

You dress in a rush, giving no mind to the quality of the suit that was resting on your bed. Its slight sheen goes unnoticed, its comfort disregarded. You can think only now of squashing whatever feelings it was you’re feeling, merely tucking your gun into your blazer. Suited up, you head to sit in the foyer, taking your usual seat on a window sill as butlers and maids pass by on business.

“You’ve changed, you know.”

Head snapping up, you lock eyes with Ardbert who gives you a hesitant smile. “Good morning, friend.” He greets, eyeing the open space next to you. “Mind some company?”

Frowning, you quickly look around. “Ardbert, you know that Zenos,”

“I get the feeling that his threats are more warnings than actual threats. I’ve driven him around for years. Think he’d hate to have to train another chauffeur, yeah?” He laughs lightly, moving to sit next to you.

Something about Ardbert’s presence is calming, your frown melting away. “What do you mean I’ve changed?” You ask, brushing your hair behind your ear.

He seems to mull over his words for a moment, thinking them over. “I’ll be honest, Honey. This job. It’s not good for you.” His face is serious, concerned. A genuine concern that you haven’t seen ever since you had started working here. “I had hoped that he wouldn’t drag you back to those places. Like I said when I met you...you don’t belong here. You look like nothing had gone as planned.”

It surprises you what a good read Ardbert is, considering most of your interactions are not face to face, given that Zenos is also usually in the vicinity. You can feel tears pinprick behind your eyes, quickly turning away. You couldn’t cry in front of him too.

“It’s alright.” Ardbert’s voice is gentle as he holds out a handkerchief in front of your face, one you accept graciously as you dab at your eyes softly. “It’s been buggin’ me a while to ask but...why are you here? You had to have known what you were getting into, right?” He questions, seeming as if he wants to reach out and comfort you, but even he dares not go that far.

You bark out a bitter laugh, wondering if he’s a mind reader. “I had an idea, but I suppose I didn’t think hard enough about where I would end up when I applied to work here. I feel so stupid now.” You whisper sourly, angry at no one but yourself. “He had called me naive, you know. Maybe I really was. Am.”

“Naive might not be the right word.” Ardbert offers, bumping shoulders with you. “I don’t think anyone expects to become a bodyguard who moonlights as a hitman. I certainly didn’t expect it myself, when I was hired…” He gives his own bitter laugh, a frown marring his handsome face. “Had I known he would eventually take you there, make you do those things...I would have warned you. Told you to run away, so that it wouldn’t have been too late.” Scratching the back of his head, he gives a forlorn sigh. “I thought maybe you didn’t have a clue, given the circumstances we picked you up under…”

Those words alone are almost enough to make you want to cry all over again and fling yourself into his arms. “Ardbert…”

“Hope you can forgive me.” He offers an apologetic smile. “But if it wasn’t obvious, I’m your friend yeah?” He holds out a fist with a smile. He laughs richly as you stare at it for a moment, giving it a shake. “Well come on then. Don’t leave me hangin’.”

Giggling, you curl your hand to a fist and bump it against his, smiling genuinely for the first time in weeks. “Thank you,”

He shakes his head as he stands to his feet. “What are friends for?” Adjusting his tie, he moves to head for the door. You watch him head outside, surely on his way to the garage to retrieve the car. You would actually be riding in a separate car with Varis’ bodyguards, protecting both the front and the back of his and Zenos’ shared car. It strikes you then that you’ve actually never met any of Varis’ bodyguards, and you begin to ponder what they could possibly look like. How good were they in a fight that Zenos resented his father for taking them from him?

Your fingers flex unconsciously, thinking of the prospect of a different opponent. Not that Zenos was boring; his adaptive ability made every day a challenge. But even you couldn’t push back the excitement of knowing other worthy potential opponents were so close.

You were becoming too much like that asshole.

“You’re Honey, correct?”

Looking up, a taller, Garlean woman stands before you, her red hair slicked into a tight bun atop her head. She wears the exact same suit as you, but somehow with her long legs, she looks so much better in it. “That’s me.” You reply, extending your hand out to shake.

“I see.” Her eyes run over you in distaste, causing you to frown. “I am Lord Varis’ chief bodyguard, Livia sas Junius. You will be sharing a car with me.” You don’t even bother extending your hand in an offer to shake it. Clearly they could only find the most stuck up Garleans on all of Hydaelyn.

“Alright. Is it time to head out?” You ask, standing to your feet.

“It is time to ‘head out’, yes.” She mocks, walking toward the door. “You would be aware of this if you were on the correct linkshell channel. Not that I would expect a savage to know how to work advanced, Garlean technology.”

You see red as you glare at the back of her head, following after her. “Call me a savage again, bitch.” You dare, watching as she turns to you slowly.

“And unprofessional too. Really, does Lord Zenos,” She doesn’t get time to finish her sentence as Zenos catches you hard by the wrist.

“Insulting my employees, Livia?” Zenos asks, leveling her with a bored look. However after your months of being around him, you have learned his tells, able to hear the slight annoyance in his voice.

“N-Never, young master.” She bows, clearly flustered.

“This is my bodyguard’s first time on this type of excursion. I would expect you to set an example and instead guide her on correct protocol so as to not embarrass herself and by extension my father...who I won’t be needing to inform about your misstep, now will I?” A chill fills the air at his tone despite the warmth of the summer day, Livia doing her best to not visibly shake.

“No, my lord.”

“Good. Now do as you are told and make sure she does her job efficiently.” Releasing your arm he turns to head back inside. “You would do well to not anger her. Next time I might not be around to stop her from demolishing you.” He calls over his shoulder.

Your cheeks tingle with the rush of blood to them at his compliment. Though it wasn’t direct, it was praise nonetheless, without being followed by a backhanded comment. Turning back to Livia, she too is red, though from shame rather than embarrassment. “Come along….Miss.” Livia grounds out, heading back to the garage. You can’t help but snicker to yourself as you follow behind her.

You’re given a quick run down of how the linkshell works, being given a more in depth tutorial on how the more advanced linkpearls worked. The debriefing gave you a strange sense of nostalgia; reviewing the floorplans, potential dangers, instructions on emergency maneuvers all reminded you of your time on the police. You picked it up naturally as a result, though Varis’ bodyguards didn’t find it impressive. Livia was joined by Rhitahtyn, a man who somehow managed to outdo Zenos in bulk, though he was far more stout. Skin almost as dark as Gaius’, he had an equally imposing image. Livia was quick to inform him to keep down about you, letting you know that even though they were nothing to sneeze at, they still feared Zenos.

A hospital seemed far too philanthropic for what you knew of Varis’ character, and you’re positive that it’s nothing more than to play up his public image. From what you remembered, he was surprisingly well liked by the public, regardless of having a very stern persona and conservative ideals. It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, and you would most likely try to be on your phone through the majority of the ceremony.

When it’s time to load up, you catch father and son entering their car, Zenos looking entirely disinterested and like he’d rather be anywhere else. Varis maintains his usual frown, and you have to wonder if his face just rests like that, or if he’s that pissy all the time. Shrugging, you hop into the car with Livia, buckling in for the ride to the new hospital.

The building itself speaks of Varis’ tastes; just from the outside you can see no expense was spared in making it. It’s quite a ways from downtown, allowing it more space to sprawl outward. The grounds are filled with the greenest grass, the loveliest blooms gil can buy. The sun shines brightly on the grouping of various buildings, making it a picturesque day for this unveiling.

As the car pulls up, you step out, adjusting your suit. Paparazzi are held at bay by ropes and security, so you mosey on over to the Galvuses’ car as they pull up. Opening the door, Varis steps out first, Livia already at his side. You hold back a snort as they begin their walk down the red carpet, turning your face away from the dozens of flashes of cameras. Zenos steps out soon after, wearing a full suit and looking entirely too good in it. Closing the door behind him, you follow him down the aisle, sticking close to his side as he doesn’t bother to even wave for pictures.

A simple stage sits just outside in the parking lot, filled with balloons and reporters alike. Reaching it, Zenos follows his father to go sit down in a row of chairs, picking the one closest to the end. You stand with Rhitahtyn off to the side, instructed to stay out of primary view of what’s being recorded, but also close enough should anything happen. From what you’ve seen though, security is tight and there’s few places for anyone to hide. All reporters and guests have been checked for any firearms or weapons, making for a smooth event.

If only it wasn’t so boring.

Since you are out of sight of most of the cameras (and also Varis and Zenos) you play games on your phone through the majority of the dull speeches. Anytime Rhitahtyn shoots you a look you give him one right back, daring him to say anything. You know he’s as bored as you, and that despite the fact you’re at least entertaining yourself, you still pay close attention to anything being said in the linkshell. You find it better than purposefully rolling your eyes at anything doctors say or how Gaius sings Varis’ praises, prattling on about how generous he is. The crowd cheers as Varis makes his speech, making himself seem some sort of visionary.

You wish you were totally out of sight to flip him off behind his back.

Clapping for appearance’s sake, you move into position to get father and son to the front doors where a huge red ribbon is waiting to be cut. Bodyguards are out of arm’s reach, but still a reasonable distance away, as to not mess with the image of Varis walking the halls of his new hospital. He’s clearly confident with his security, if he’s going to choose his image over common sense. The bastard clearly enjoys being the center of attention, answering every single question with ease as he touts about how advanced the facility is and how many lives it will save. Would it be rude to ask him when he’d shut up so you could go home? Probably, and sadly it was not a risk you were willing to take.

Several floors up now, you’ve held yourself back from sighing no less than twenty times now, settling for watching the day pass by out the windows. It really is a beautiful day out, one best spent out in the sprawling gardens of the estate and instead you are stuck here, following a rich man on an ego trip. Watching the trees sway and grass grow proves more entertaining than listening to Varis talking just because he likes the sound of his voice. Even the reflection of a stranger in the glass is--

Before your mind can catch up, thick smoke fills the hall, burning your throat and stinging your eyes, sending the hallway into a panic. “Zenos!” You call, trying to open your eyes but every time you do it burns like the seven hells. You hear shuffling and grunting, Livia and Rhitahtyn calling out for Varis over the panicked screams of the reporters.

But not Zenos.

“Zenos!” You shout, trying to move but bumping into one person after another in the hallway. The entire hospital powers down, leaving the sun through the windows the only source of light.

Cursing, you reach up to your linkpearl. “Livia! Rhitahtyn!” You hiss, trying to hear anything over the sound of people coughing. “Do you have eyes on them? Either of them?!”

Static sounds through the linkpearl for a few moments. “I can’t see a damn thing!” Comes Rhitahtyn’s deep voice. “Someone’s had to have taken them. They’ve not responded to me at all!”

Dread pools in your gut as you make your way to the closest wall. “We need to get out this hallway!” The gas doesn’t let up as you feel your way along the wall. You mumble apologies as you bump into the several people crowded in the hallway, trying to move out of the gas as quickly as possible. You yelp as you’re suddenly pulled forward through a door, the metal slamming shut behind you.

Jerking your eyes open, the serious faces of Livia and Rhitahtyn stare back, the latter handing you a handkerchief which you accept eagerly. “We must act quickly.” Livia begins, turning to head down the stairwell she had pulled you into. “Rhitahtyn, do you have any fix on their location?”

“They’re currently being moved downstairs, I suspect to some getaway car. We need to act fast.” He answers, swiping along on a tablet. “They are moving somewhat slowly. Both Lord Varis and the young master are not easy to transport due to their stature and would therefore slow them down.”

You can’t help but be a bit surprised at their competence and quick thinking. You begrudgingly give them your respect, leaping down flights of stairs.

“Very well. Rhyitahtyn, contact the security outside to be ready for potential interception, and also begin the building’s lock down phase. Contact the police so that they can already be on their way here once we apprehend these fools.” Livia hisses, pausing to glance at the glowing screen. Her eyes flick to you. “You. I want you to come with me as we intercept them. We don’t know how big this team is, but between the two of us we should be able to stop them until more help arrives. If your skills live up to Lord Zenos’ praise.” Red lights begin flashing in the stairwell, and you hear the distant sound of metal doors slamming shut.

“The hospital has successfully been locked down.” Rhitahtyn informs, sitting his hulking form down on the stairs. “They’ve been stopped successfully. You should be able to intercept them now. They’re on the second floor, but you must still hurry before any harm comes to them. I will keep you updated via the linkshell.” Reaching into his pocket he hands the both of you matte, black cards, and you recognize them to be similar to the ones used at home. “These will help you unlock doors to make your way to them. Be careful, Livia.”

Nodding, Livia motions for you to follow her, heading down a few more flights of stairs. “All right rookie,” she begins, still managing to cling to her pride, but unwilling to run the risk of you telling Zenos she insulted you later. “We’re not going to do something as stupid as splitting up unless we see the opportunity to pincer them. They’re obviously somewhat organized, so we have to minimize all risk of harm until we can confirm that our targets are safe. Do you have your gun?” You give a sharp nod as you both come to a stop to a door. “Good. Only use it when absolutely necessary; absolutely no harm must come to Lord Varis or the young master.” Holding the keycard up to the door, the latch unlocks. “Follow me.”

Quiet as a mouse, you slink into the hallway, lit only by the sunlight. You can see a slight panic outside, as security herd reporters away from the building. Shaking your head, you turn back to focus on following Livia as you make your way through the halls of the hospital. Livia begins to check her phone for an update, but you grab her attention as you hear voices down a hall. Nodding that she understands, you slowly make your way, following signs toward the lobby.

“You absolute idiots!” You hear someone yell, their voice echoing in the large space. You and Livia quickly duck behind one of the desks at the nearby reception area, poking your head out.

A blonde, Hyuran man stands in the midst of several men, all wearing red. The blonde man slaps a lackey across the face, quite hard from the sound of it, uncaring that he crumples to the floor. “We were supposed to grab these two and get out of here, but you idiots are too weak to lift two men!”

“Boss, the son has to weigh at least 200 ponze of pure muscle!” One pipes up only to be silenced by the blonde man smacking him in the face.

“Do I look like I care about how much he fucking weighs? We spend an entire night camping inside this fucking hospital, only for them to put it on lockdown! We’ll be lucky if we make it out of here ourselves, let alone with these two alive!” He roars, taking a deep breath as he reaches up to pinch his nose. “Perhaps we should cut our losses and get out of here, before it’s too late.”

“Look, there.” Livia whispers, pointing to a grouping of couches. Zenos and Varis are strewn upon them, unconscious. “Good. They seem unharmed for now.” Shifting her weight she turns to you. “That savage is Lambard. He’s incredibly dangerous, we’ll have to be careful…”

“Boss, why don’t we take just one?” An underling proposes, flinching when Lambard turns to him.

“Oh and which do you propose we take, hmm?” Lambard asks, voice mockingly sweet.

“The uh, son? His father will want him back right?”

It is silent for a few moments until you hear a loud slap. “It is well and good I don’t pay you all to think.” Lambard sighs, drawing near to the two, unconscious men on the couch. “If you all would pay attention to anything around you for two seconds, you would realize there is absolutely no love lost between father and son. The bastard wouldn’t care if anything happened to his only child, and the whelp couldn’t give a damn about his father.”

“Then why are we trying to get ‘em both?” The same one asks, groaning in pain as Lambard steps on him with his heel.

“Because, there are people willing to pay a pretty penny for Varis’ head on their wall. At the very least, they are both unconscious and we can abandon them here, wait for things to cool off, and try another time. No one will know it was us.” Lambard snickers, punching Zenos across the face. “Ah, that felt great.”

You feel your fists clench reflexively.

“I suppose we could leave ‘em a little beaten up and bruised before we get out of here.” Lambard cackles, giving Zenos another punch in the face. “Ah man this feels so good! After having to have this whelp come around and threaten me for so fucking long…” He slaps Varis across the face, roaring with laughter. “These drugs must be strong! They’ve hardly moved!”

You begin to rise but Livia yanks you back down, furiously shaking her head. Gnashing your teeth you turn back as Lambard continues his abuse on the two, anger rising as you watch.

“Boss, we should really get out of here…” an underling warns, to which Lambard responds with a swift kick to their knee.

“What did I tell you about telling me what to do?” He asks in a sing-song voice, smirking as the underling crumples to the floor. “Though I suppose we have overstayed our welcome...though now, I am reconsidering my idea from earlier. Perhaps we can make use of the son. It is only half of the deal, but something is better than nothing, correct? And who knows! Perhaps his old man will have a change of heart and want his baby boy back.” Lambard laughs. “Have those idiots found a backdoor yet?”

“Yes boss. We’ve managed to find one of the hidden exits through a connected building.”

“Excellent! Perhaps you all aren’t so useless after all.” Lambard grins, snapping his fingers. “Leave the bastard. Let’s go.”

You watch as a few of the men in the group slowly heft up Zenos’ hulking form, panic shooting through you as they begin heading in the opposite direction out of another doorway. Without thinking you launch yourself from behind the desk, ignoring Livia’s commands for you to stop. “You get Varis!” You call over your shoulder, vaulting over chairs and couches as you move to catch up.

Adrenaline propels you forward, throwing all tact and reason out the window. Barrelling through the door they left through, it slams into the wall, alerting them to your presence further down the hall. “Who the hell are you?!” Lambard yells, quickly turning back to his gang. “Stop the girl! We gotta get this guy out of here!” He orders, ushering the men holding Zenos down another hall.

A group of five men stay behind, chuckling to themselves. “You lost ma’am?” One taunts, cracking his knuckles as you make your way toward them.

“Get out of my way.” You respond, clenching and unclenching your fists, quickly analyzing each of them. Five on one is still a lot, and the space in this hallway is pretty tight. Looking at them you can see they’re nothing but run of the mill thugs, and should all go down pretty easily.

“Think you’re tough in your little suit, huh?” One laughs, causing the others to join in as he pulls out a gun. “Don’t want to get hurt, now do ya missy? Come over here and be sweet.”

Huffing, you march over to the band of men with your hands upraised, keeping a close eye on their gun. “This is your last warning. Get out of my way.” You snarl, finally standing before the gunman.

“No need to be that way! If you come quietly, we’ll talk it over with the boss and show you a real good time,” Now in arm’s reach you quickly disarm him, knocking his feet from under him to send him crashing to the floor. The others try to scramble into action, throwing themselves at you haphazardly. Centering yourself, you don’t pull your punches, making sure to bruise as they fall to the ground in a heap one by one. Once the last one is down, you hop over their bodies and dash down the hallway, praying they hadn’t gotten too far.

“Livia?” You call into the linkpearl, heart thundering inside your chest. You’ve lost track of them. “Livia!” You try again, spinning in circles frantically.

“What is it?!” Livia finally answers, voice crackling through the linkpearl.

“They’re trying to sneak Zenos out the back exit, I’m trying to catch up,” You get out between breaths, running down halls like a madwoman. “Tell them to reinforce the,” You yelp as you’re suddenly hit in the face, sliding to the ground as you clutch your bloodied nose.

“Well, well, looks like even the Galvuses’ lackeys break just like the rest, huh?” Lambard cackles, fine, leather shoes walking into your vision. “So what’s your name, huh? Don’t think I’ve seen you around.” He kicks you hard in your side, surprising you with his strength.

Taking a steadying breath, you push yourself up onto your elbows, fixing the Hyuran man with a deadly glare. “My name is Honey.” You spit, swiping your hand across your face, smearing your blood on your cheek.

“Honey, huh? Are you as sweet as your name?” Lambard taunts, shoving you with his foot. “I don’t understand why the bastard feels he needs so many bodyguards…” He groans, walking back toward his members that still carry Zenos. “But, since you’re here, I might be willing to run off without killing you if you can tell me a few things.” He grins, spinning to face you.

“I won’t tell you shit.” You begin pulling yourself from the floor again, willing strength into your limbs. The pain from your broken nose fades into a slight throb, allowing you to focus your breathing.

“Boss,” One of the lackeys warns, but Lambard ignores them.

“I am not running away from some girl.” Lambard snarls, eyes fixated on you. “You two! Take care of her.”

The two men holding Zenos’ legs exchange a look, but set them down to follow orders. The first one launches himself at you, swinging his fist in a wide arc. You easily slip under him, delivering a well placed uppercut to his jaw so hard you hear his teeth click together. As he clutches his face in pain, you take the chance to deliver a roundhouse kick to his face, sending him to the floor.

Shaking your hands, you take pleasure from the fear you see filling Lambard’s eyes.

The next man throws himself at you, a bit smarter than the former, keeping his fists closer to himself. He’s easy to find an opening for though, snatching his fist from midair to bend it backwards toward him, grinning darkly as you feel his bones crack in ways they’re not supposed to. Punching him square in the chest, he lands flat on his back, screaming in pain as you step hard enough on his chest to crack a rib.

“W-What...what are you?!” Lambard yells, eyes wide with fear. He backs away frantically, scrambling to get behind his last underlings. “No one moves like that! It’s unnatural! You’re a freak!” Shoving at the last two lackeys, he makes them drop Zenos as he pushes them toward you. “Get her!”

The two of them seem as afraid of you as Lambard is, unsure of whether to follow their sense of self preservation, or orders from their boss. “I said kill her!” Lambard draws his own gun, spurring the two men into action. Cursing, they don’t make the mistake of their former companions and both approach you at once, prompting you to back off. They’ve got you on the defensive, pushing you further away from the exit. One manages to get a cheap shot on you, making you stumble, giving the other the chance to grab you from behind to lock your arms together.

“Ha! Not so tough now are you?!” Lambard jeers, waving his gun at you. “So now, maybe you’ll start talkin’!”

“I told you I’m not telling you shit!” You bark, struggling against the hold of the man behind you but the second socks you in the gut, knocking the wind out of you. Exhaustion begins to set in, your muscles crying for relief.

“Yes, yes, you told me before.” Lambard groans, shaking his head, coming to kneel beside Zenos. Your eyes widen as he places the barrel of the gun directly to his head, fixing you with a cruel smile. “How about now?”

Biting your lip, you stare down at Zenos’ unconscious face. “Leave him alone.” You murmur, fixing Lambard with a pleading look. The action only serves to make him laugh, grabbing Zenos forcefully by his hair, shaking him around.

“Who is he to you? Who are you to him? Does he know you’d beg for his life? Never thought I’d see the day someone would beg me to not kill this son of a bitch.” Lambard chuckles, dropping him to the floor. “Go on. Beg me for it.”

Your mind is racing malms a minute, deciding on the best course of action. He seems more concerned with stroking his ego at having you at a disadvantage than escaping, so even if it stings your pride, you can buy yourself some time.

“Please...don’t kill him.” You beg, scared with how genuine your voice sounds. Lambard cackles loudly, clearly enjoying himself and part of you wonder if he gets off on it.

“Oh, man is this how that bastard feels? I gotta say, it feels pretty damn good.” Coming to stand before you, he gives you a taunting sneer. “Maybe I should take you with me instead? You’re a lot easier to run off with, plus I could keep you like a little trophy, hm?”

Holding your tongue (and your bile), you nod slowly. “Anything to keep him safe.” You plead, even going slack in your captors’ arms. Pleased with your submission, Lambard clutches your face in his hands, giving you an evil smirk. “Such sacrifice...what a good find you are.” He practically giggles, rubbing a thumb along your bottom lip.

“Lambard!”

All of you turn to see Livia come barreling around the corner, gun drawn as she aims straight for Lambard. Her eyes are fierce, but she doesn’t fire. “Drop your weapon!” She demands, slowly making her way toward you. Lambard only sighs, releasing your cheek as he steps away from you.

“So many lovely women keep popping up...and surely your friends aren’t so far behind. I suppose I should throw in the towel…” He sighs, shaking his head slowly as he slowly lowers himself in a crouch to place the gun on the floor. Just when it looks when he’s about to release it from his hand, everything happens in slow motion.

Hear…

Your heart feels like it’s caught in your throat, pounding in your head. The hall is quiet save for the panic outside.

Feel…

The men still hold you tightly as they watch their boss slowly lower the gun to ground. With wide eyes you watch as Lambard quickly shifts the gun in his hand at the last second to angle it toward Zenos, too quickly for Livia to react quickly enough. Alarm races through you, adrenaline once again flooding your veins.

Think....

“He has no use for anyone who is not willing to kill or be killed for him.”

“Those in power cannot afford to show weakness.”

“Kill him.”

Your mind goes blank.

Something comes over you, something unnatural, giving you the strength to free yourself from the hold of the underlings. With unfeeling, calculating hands you reach for Lambard’s head, a hand at the back and one under his chin. Gripping hard, you twist his neck with a loud snap, releasing him to fall on the floor. Turning on the guards you quickly deck one in the face hard enough to dislocate his jaw, giving him a few more blows to send him to the ground as well. The other grabs you from behind, arm around your neck in an attempt to choke you. Reaching up you grab his arm and bend over, launching him over your back to slam into the floor. You pull your gun from your blazer, aiming down, hand on the trigger.

“Don’t kill them!” Livia shouts, eyes so wide you can see the whites of them. “Honey! Don’t fire!”

Hearing your name snaps you from your trance, taking a good look at the men on the floor. His hands are held in front of his face, tears streaming down his cheeks as he trembles in fear. The gun falls from your hand onto the floor, the man jolting as it lands with a clatter. Livia approaches slowly, lowering her gun as she eyes the pile of men on the floor.

“Rookie…” Her voice is but a harsh whisper, peppered with disbelief and shock.

You do not hear her.

“Rhitahtyn...the culprits have been apprehended.” Livia speaks into her linkpearl, turning away to go check on Zenos. “Have an ambulance come around, quickly, for the young master…” She pauses, glancing at your frozen form over her shoulder.

“And one for the rookie too.”

[themoonandotherslikeit]

Something More Than What I Had- Part Four

Part Four - Judges

“The angel of the LORD appeared unto him, and said unto him, The LORD is with thee,  thou mighty man of valour.” Judges 6:12

Sam Winchester’s heart was pounding. He’d never sat on the opposite side of the table in the interrogation room. He could see his own reflection in the two-way mirror. His palms were sweaty, and he absentmindedly twisted his crucifix between his fingers.

 “You look nervous, Winchester,” Detective Novak said, as he entered the interrogation room.

 “Wouldn’t you be?” Sam glanced up at his partner. Since he was so tall, he didn’t often look up at people, but he was seeing Castiel in a whole new light. He looked fierce, strong. Sam could see how the detective could put fear in the heart of a criminal, because Novak was definitely putting fear in his.

 “I suppose if I were guilty, I would be too.”

“I’m not guilty, Cas.”

 “You’re not? I should just take your word for it?” He gripped the back of his chair, staring sharp blue daggers down at Sam.

 “Yes.” Sam frowned. “Because I’m your partner.”

 “You have a bleeding heart. Why shouldn’t I think that you’re capable of taking the law into your own hands?”

 “You’re my mentor, Novak,” he said through gritted teeth. His hands were flat on the table top. “You should know exactly what I’m capable of. You and I run by the same code.”

 “Tell me, Winchester. Do you own a Bible?”

 He blinked a few times. “Yes.”

 “If I got a warrant to search your apartment, and got your bible, would I find pages missing?”

 “Pages? You seriously think I could...”

 “This will go so much easier for you if you cooperate.”

 Sam pressed his lips together before uttering, “No. There would be no pages missing.”

 “How would you describe your religious beliefs?”

 “What do you mean, Cas?”

 “It’s Detective Novak,” Castiel said through clenched teeth. “Are you a casual church goer? Have you read the Bible? Attend studies?”

 “When would I have time to do all of that?” Sam laughed, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m a rookie in Homicide with a hardass for a partner. When would I possibly have time to read the entire Bible?”

 “You are avoiding the question.” 

 Sam sighed, clasping his hands together. “It’s just faith, man. I’m just running on faith. Nothing more than that.” 

 Castiel grunted at that before pulling out a photograph of the burnt wings in the grass from the previous crime scenes. He laid it down in front of his partner. “What is the deal with the angels? The burn marks around the victims.”

 “Your guess is as good as mine.”

 “Why did you lie about being in the courtroom during Azazel’s trial?” Castiel slammed his hands down, leaning into Sam, trying to intimidate him.

 “I didn’t.”

 “You withheld information from a murder investigation.”

 Sam shook his head. “Fuck, no I didn’t! I didn’t think it was a secret! I didn’t think it was important… I didn’t think!”

 “You didn’t think you’d get caught,” Castiel hissed.

 “I can’t believe this. You’re my partner, Cas. You’re supposed to have my back.”

 “Yes. I am your partner, Winchester.” Castiel turned away from Sam. He looked at them both in the mirror, his arms folded tightly across his chest. Sam stared at the crisscross of his suspenders on his back. “So it isn’t so farfetched to believe you would want to impress me by killing the criminals that I couldn’t put away. That we couldn’t.”

 Sam stood up, reached across the table, and touched Castiel’s shoulder, causing the detective to wince. “I didn’t do this. It isn’t up to us to punish evil. It’s up to the law. Yeah, the law fails us sometimes… but we do all that we can do.”

 “You’re just saying what I want to hear.”

 “No. I’m not. Plus,” Sam shifted awkwardly before continuing, “If it were me, I wouldn’t have been so sloppy. I was top of my class at the academy. I know you like calling me Rookie, but I’m good, Cas. I wouldn’t make a mistake like that.”

 “Killers like to taunt the police.”

 “I am the police.”

 There was a loud noise in the precinct, shouting.

 “That’s the worst part,” Castiel said before opening the door and pushing out into the office.

 “Sir, you need to calm down.”

 “I will not fucking calm down! I want to see Detective Novak!”

 “It’s okay,” Castiel told the officer that was trying to calm down Dean. “I’ve got this.”

 “When were you going to call me?” Dean asked angrily, his eyebrows drawn tightly together.

 “Hello, Dean.”

 “Don’t hello Dean me.”

 The detective raised an eyebrow. “How would you prefer that I greet you?”

 “I’d prefer it if you didn’t arrest my fucking brother.”

 “Lower your voice, Dean. There’s no need to make a scene.” He touched Dean's hand. “I just need to question him.”

 “You think he’s a killer,” Dean said through gritted teeth.

 “Come with me.” Cas grabbed his hand and pulled him behind the glass of the interrogation room. They could see Sam sitting with his cup of coffee. He was leaned over the table, looking concerned, but he wasn’t chained. “He isn’t under arrest. I’m just questioning him.”

 “Why are you questioning him?”

 “Because he was in the courtroom during Azazel’s trial. He lied. He’s religious. He fits the M.O.”

 “He isn’t capable of murder.”

 “Everyone wants to believe that...”

 “It’s the truth,” Dean snapped.

 “I know you’re angry, Dean.”

 “That’s an understatement if I’ve ever heard one.”

 “But I wouldn’t be a good detective if I didn’t follow a lead when it was presented to me.” Castiel wasn’t sure why he was sugar coating it for Dean. It looked bad. “Do you know where your brother was at the times of the murders?”

 “Probably working a case with you, you ignorant fuck.” Dean’s fingers twitched at his side. He gave Castiel this look which leveled out somewhere between I want to fucking kill you, and I want to fuck you. His lips were parted, letting out ragged breaths, and his face was flushed. It was the same look he’d had right after he’d been kissed. 

 “He wasn’t with me. Do you think if he was with me that I would be questioning him? I am good at my job, Dean,” Castiel said slowly, carefully trying to explain. Carefully trying not to stare at his full lips. 

 Dean turned and slammed his fist into the glass. He stared through it at his brother, his muscles in his back tight. It was evident even through his thick flannel. “Then fucking do the thing. Prove he’s innocent, because he is.”

 “I hope you’re right,” Castiel said, shoving his hands in his pockets. He looked at Dean, his eyes drilling into the man’s back. He wanted to see his face, to determine exactly how bad things were between them. “I’m sorry for not calling you,” he said lowly, as he approached Dean. “It wasn’t my place.”

 “As a guy who slept next to me and made out with me in the kitchen, I kind of think it’s your place.” He turned to face Castiel.

 “I’m the head detective of this case. I have to be careful what information I share, and who I share it with.”

 “You’re sharing shit with me now, Novak,” Dean said, his gaze intense. The corners of his eyes were wet with emotion and Castiel could’ve sworn that they were sparkling. Sparkling like the fucking stars in the night sky, green and engaged like a cat’s.  

 “Your eyes are really green, Dean,” Castiel whispered, staring into Dean’s eyes. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stop it. 

 “Look into my pretty, pretty green eyes and tell me that my brother is a killer.” Dean let out an exasperated breath. “If you really believe he is capable of that then look me in the fuckin’ face and say it.”

 “Dean…”

 “Say it, Castiel!”

 “I think people are capable of a lot more darkness than what we expect them to be.”

 Castiel met his eyes, and Dean shook his head. “That’s for fucking sure.” He pressed his hands against Castiel’s chest and pushed him away. “I need some air. Get my brother out of there, or you won’t like what happens.”

 He watched Dean go. He made a mental note to tell Charlie that the situation before him was exactly why he didn’t date. Romance was complicated. Especially in the line of work that he was in. Especially with a Winchester. He wanted to walk after Dean, but he didn’t. He wanted to call after him and pull him close. He wanted to kiss him until he was smiling, until he looked less betrayed. He wanted a lot of things. Instead, he turned back to the glass and watched Sam. He needed a plan. He needed the answers, and no matter how badly he wanted to catch the killer, he needed it to not be Sam. He needed the rookie to be clean, because if he wasn’t, then Castiel had failed again. He didn’t know if he could survive the weight of something so completely crushing.

 “Hey.” Charlie poked her head into the room. “Saw Dreamy storm outside. Wanna talk about it?”

 “He’s mad because of this.” Castiel gestured to the glass.

 “Oh my God!” Charlie whispered, stepping into the room, shutting the door behind her. “What is Sam doing back there?”

 “He was on the list, Charlie. He was in the courthouse and didn’t tell me.”

 She looked taken aback, and she blinked a few languid blinks before uttering, “You think he killed those men?”

 “I don’t know what else to think.”

 “Are you batshit crazy, man?”

 “Excuse me?” Castiel turned to look at the redhead, with a quirked eyebrow.

 “He isn’t Anakin, Cas. He isn’t going to go dark side. The kid is Luke all the way.”

 “I don’t follow.”

 “Of course you don’t.” Charlie pinched the bridge of her nose with a disgruntled sigh. “I’m just saying, I think he is what he says he is. I don’t think you have to worry.”

 “But I am worried.” Castiel placed his palm against the glass. “I don’t want to be, but I am. He looks guilty, Charlie. Am I supposed to ignore that?”

 “Of course not, Cassy,” she said with a sigh. “You have to ask the tough questions.”

 “It’s what’s right. If he is killing people, and I don’t stop him just because he’s my partner, then I’m just as bad as he is.”

 Charlie wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Does Singer know?”

 “Not yet. I didn’t want it to be a big deal.”

 “But it is, isn’t it?”

 “That I’m accusing a fellow detective? Yeah. It is.” His voice caught in his throat. If he was wrong he could be ruined. If he was right, everything would be ruined anyway. There was no winning this. 

 “Do you have anything concrete on him?”

 “No. Not really, but I wonder if I should get a search warrant.”

 “You don’t think that Dean would just let you in to prove Sam’s innocence?”

 “He might,” Castiel said, thoughtfully. “But he is pretty angry right now.”

 “Where’d he go?”

 “To get some air. I don’t imagine he will go far since Sam is locked up.”

 “Do you think it’s over?”

 “What’s over?”

 “You and Dean.”

 “That shouldn’t even be on my mind right now,” he said with a sigh, but it was on his mind. Of course it was.

 “But it is, right? It has to be. He’s the guy.”

 “Yeah, according to you.” Castiel ran his tongue along his bottom lip anxiously. “I don’t know if there’s even anything between us that’s worth mourning, yet. It’s too soon.”

 “If you and Dean are supposed to be together, he will forgive you. No matter what you find out.” She gave him a gentle squeeze.

 “I need to focus on the case. I think Winchester has sweated it out enough. I’m going to go back in there.”

 “Okay,” she whispered, letting him go.

 “Charlie?”

 “Yeah, Cas?”

 “I’ll be okay,” he promised her, offering a small smile. “I’ll catch the bad guy, no matter who it is.”

 “I know you will. You always do,” Charlie smiled at him softly, before going back into the precinct. 

 Castiel walked toward the door, his finger clasping the handle as his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out to answer it. He didn’t recognize the number. “Detective Novak.”

 “Novak, hello,” a gentle female voice said through the phone. “This is Captain Mosley with the Lawrence PD. I got your message about the Mary Winchester case. Sorry it’s taken so long for me to get back to you. I’ve been on vacation.”

 “Not a problem, thank you for getting back to me.” He leaned against the wall, pressing the phone to his ear. He was eager for information about Dean’s mom. He hoped he could get some peace for his green eyed man, especially since they were currently disagreeing. 

 “I haven’t thought about Mary Winchester in a long time. You said you know her boys? They were cute kids. I was the head detective on the case.” 

 “Dean said that you didn’t have any leads?”

 “Dean... he was the older boy, wasn’t he?” Captain Mosley asked. 

 “Yes, ma’am.”

 “He was only four years old, so his memory must be skewed. We did have a suspect. One.”

 “Who?” Castiel asked, he was leaning on every word. “He didn’t know?”

 “I told him when he came back around some time back. He wasn’t happy with the answer I gave him. Neither of those boys were,” she sighed. “Hurt my heart, having to tell those boys.”

 “Tell them what?”

 “We suspected their Daddy, John Winchester.”

  His stomach jumped right into his throat. Their father? “What was the evidence against him?”

  “The fire started on a desk in the bedroom. It was a pile of papers. Forensics identified them as court documents. Mary was leaving him. He was a mean old bastard, and witnesses reported many domestic disputes between them. The lighter left on the desk was one of his that he used for smoking.” 

 “But there wasn’t a conviction?”

 “It was all circumstantial. There wasn’t anything concrete. He insisted that he didn’t know about the divorce. They were in couples counseling and, according to John, doing better.”

  Shit. “So, nothing stuck,” Castiel sighed. Part of him was happy that he wasn’t the only one that had cold cases. “Do you think that he did it?” 

 “Personally?” Captain Mosley asked slowly. “I do. He took those boys and ran. He was ex military, and he went off the grid. That didn’t sit well with me. Still doesn’t.”

 “It doesn’t look good,” he agreed. “But he’s dead now. Cancer, right?”

 “He was dying of cancer, and then an intern ordered the wrong dosage of morphine and it killed the poor bastard.”

 “That’s terrible.” 

 “I wish we could’ve gotten solid answers for those poor boys,” Mosley said with a sigh. “They were sure sweet. Hate seeing kids losing their mother.” 

 “It is difficult,” he agreed, staring at his feet. 

 “Can I ask you why you were asking about Mary?” 

 “I work with her son.” 

 He could hear Captain Mosley hum over the phone line. “And you’re in love with him? The older boy?”

 “What?” Castiel felt his stomach leap into his throat. How did she come to that conclusion? 

 “I could hear it in your voice when you talked about him. He is a detective?” 

 “No… the younger one, Sam, is the detective. Dean is a journalist.” He felt heat dance along his cheeks. 

 “You don’t have to hide from your feelings, Detective Novak,” she said gently. “It’s okay to love someone that’s alive.” 

 “Okay,” he said, because he was so thrown off balance that it was all he could say. 

 “Was there anything else I can help you with, Detective?”

 “I don’t think so, Captain. Thank you for getting back to me.”

 “Of course. Detective Novak, it was a pleasure speaking with you.” 

 “And you,” Castiel agreed, hanging up the phone. He stared back at his partner through the glass. Poor kid, it was no wonder he could end up a little fucked up with all he’d been through.

 Castiel sighed and opened the door, meeting Sam’s eyes as he sat up straighter. “Thought you forgot about me, Novak.”

 “No such luck, Rookie.”

 Sam offered a small smile. “You believe me yet, Cas?”

 “Can’t say I do.”

 “No one else fits the profile?”

 “Not as good as you do.”

 “Was that Dean I heard shouting?” Sam asked, staring at his hands.

 “It was.”

 “He didn’t sound happy.”

 “He isn’t.” Castiel offered a smile, it was almost genuine.

 “What’s going on with you two?”

 “Nothing.” He opened the case file.

 “I know what’s in that file, Cas, and so do you. What’s going on with you and my brother?”

 “He is your brother. There’s nothing.” Castiel sat on the edge of the table. “I’m not on trial here.”

 “No, that’s me, right? I’m on trial.”

 “You aren’t yet,” Castiel said sharply. He didn’t bother looking down at the pages, he already knew what they said. He had looked at them a dozen times. “Where were you the night that Fergus Crowley was killed?”

 “At home. I told you that.”

 “Can anyone confirm that?”

 “I was alone.”

 “You realize how suspicious that is, right?”

 “You live alone, Castiel. Where were you?” Sam asked, his eyebrows drawn together.

 “I’m the one asking the questions here, Winchester.”

 “I just want to know if you see how ridiculous this is? You’re accusing me when you have just as much riding against you as I do. I didn’t do this.”

 “Then I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if we searched your apartment.”

 “Do it,” Sam said, standing up. He dug his keys out of his pocket. “Go. Search. You won’t find anything.”

 Castiel caught the keys when Sam tossed them, and his eyes met the Rookie’s, and he just couldn’t lie to him. Everything spilled out like he was a glass of water in the hands of a child. “We went out.”

 “What?”

 “Your brother and I.”

 “Like a date?”

 “Something like that.”

 “Hm. I thought he liked you,” Sam said softly.

 “I don’t want to do this.”

 “Date my brother?”

 “Accuse you. I want to be wrong,” Castiel admitted. 

 “You are wrong. I’m not asking for a lawyer. I’m willingly giving you my keys. I didn’t do it.”

 The door opened behind Castiel, revealing Captain Singer. His face was red under his graying beard and his eyes were narrowed. “You idgits about done in here?”

 “Captain.” Castiel stood up. “We’re just…”

 “I don’t really care what you’re doin’,” the Captain said dismissively. “There’s been another murder. That novelist case I gave you? He was just found, and it’s fresh, too.”

 “Fresh?” Sam asked, standing up.

 “The wings on this chicken are still burning.”

 The two detectives exchanged a look.

 “Same M.O. as the others?”

 “Looks like The Angel Killer strikes again,” Captain Singer said, stiffly. “Now get your asses out there and check out the scene. Maybe we can catch the motherfucker, since it’s all so fresh.” He finished the sentence and pushed back out into the precinct. Castiel turned to Sam with his mouth hanging open.

 “Believe me now, partner?”

 “Sam I’m…” Cas offered the keys back to his partner.

 “Keep ‘em. Then you can surprise Dean.” He wiggled his eyebrows. Castiel rolled his eyes, tossing the keys back anyway. Sam caught them with ease. 

 They stepped out of the interrogation room to find Dean sitting in a chair, with his face in his hands. “Heard you’re hot for the Detective,” Sam said when he saw his brother, with his biggest shit eating grin plastered on his face .

 Dean hopped up immediately at the sound of Sam’s words. “Sammy! You out of the slammer?”

 “Turns out somebody else is wasting people. Who knew?”

 “I did,” Dean said, throwing his arm over Sam’s shoulder. “Glad it ain't you, kid.”

 “Did you really go on a date with Novak?”

 “Who told you that?”

 “He did.”

 Dean glanced at Castiel as he shrugged into his coat and holstered his gun on his hip. “Huh. He did?”

 “Are you mad at him for accusing me?”

 “Aren’t you?”

 “Not really. I’d do the same thing,” Sam said, looking down at his brother. “Knowing him, I’m probably not even cleared yet.”

 “Want me to flirt with him and get you out of it?”

 “That’s gross, dude.”

 “That isn’t a no.”

 “Rookie, are you done? We have a murder to investigate,” Castiel said, with feigned annoyance. His eyes flickered to Dean’s and lingered there for a second too long. 

 “Yup,” Sam said, wiggling out from underneath his brother’s arm. He grabbed his own coat and gun from his desk. “I’m ready to go.”

 “I’ll drive.”

 “So, should I just meet you guys there?” Dean asked, his lips forming an ornery, tight lipped smile.

 “I’ll see you at home,” Sam said with an eye roll.

 The pair got into Castiel’s car and drove to the scene.

 “You’re gonna keep an eye on me, aren’t you?” Sam asked his partner.

 “I have to.”

 “I understand.”

 “Do you think it’s weird? Dean and I, I mean.”

 “No,” Sam said with a smile. “It’ll be nice to see him happy. It’ll be nice to see you happy, too, Novak.”

 “That’s yet to be determined.”

 “Sure.”

 The Captain was right, the wings were burning still, even as they pulled up to the scene. 

 “Christ,” Castiel said as he squinted at the flames.

 “I’ll say.”

 They both got out of the car, and Sam adjusted his sunglasses on his nose. They were in the parking lot of the apartment building that Metatron had lived in. That his wife had been killed in. He was laid out on his back, with a stab wound in his chest like all the others. The typical burn marks in the shape of wings jutting out from his back in either direction were still burning brightly. “We were waiting to put out the fire until you could see it,” Eileen said, standing up from her squatted position near the body.

 “It smells like gas, that’s new,” Sam commented.

 “Yeah, it is.” Castiel frowned. “They’ve never been still burning before, what do you make of that?” He asked Eileen.

  Don’t know, she signed, with a shrug.

 “Right,” Castiel said with a sigh. “Me neither.”

 “Maybe it was rushed,” Sam said with a frown. “This is a public place. Someone could have seen.”

 “Whoever it is has skills,” Castiel said, crouching next to the body. “We hadn’t been able to locate Metatron, but the killer could. He didn’t even wait to see if we could put him away this time.”

 “He’s escalating,” Sam agreed.

 “Sam,” Eileen said, waiting for him to turn. His eyes flickered to hers and she gently moved the dead man’s chin to expose his neck. “There’s something else.” She pointed to a small red mark on the man's neck. He was older and not exactly well taken care of, so the untrained eye wouldn't have noticed the small pinprick.

 Sam’s eyebrows shot up with an obvious question mark. 

 “I think he was drugged,” she explained, her fist tapping the inside of her elbow to sign,  drug. 

 “None of the other ones had been drugged?” Sam questioned. 

 Eileen shook her head. “We will test the blood at the lab.” 

 He nodded to her. “Let me know what you figure out?”

 She offered him a tired, but encouraging smile and went back to her samples. 

 The heat from the fire caused a bead of sweat to pool on Castiel’s upper lip. He didn’t want to find another letter. Another taunt, but it also could be the key to finding the answer to the case. He wasn’t convinced that it was Sam anymore, although the kid could have a partner, though that seemed unlikely from the M.O. 

 “Rookie,” Castiel called to Sam, his throat dry as he pulled out a crime scene glove and slid it onto his hand before he felt around Metatron’s tweed sport coat. The page was in the same place it had been in on the other victims. He unfolded the page carefully before reading the circled portion out loud. “You shall have no other gods before me. First Corinthians 10:20.”

 “Did anyone know you were questioning me?” Sam asked quickly. “Anyone?”

 “He’s watching us.”

 “He’s jealous.” Sam agreed, looking around. “Shit.”

 “There’s more,” Castiel said tightly as he flipped over the page to reveal another letter addressed to him.

   Dear Detective Novak,

  The Bible says that our God is a jealous one, and so am I. It is insulting that you think that child would be able to do this. He is not doing God’s work. I am. I am a conduit for God, Detective, and for you. You could not find the writer, but I could. I took care of him for you. 

  Perhaps it is a race now to see who can solve the cases first. You, behind your yellow tape, or me yards in front of it. Do you understand yet, Detective? I am doing this for God and for you. Perhaps God will not forgive me for the sin of murder, regardless of the intention, but perhaps I will be forgiven by you. “Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.” 1 Peter 4:8. So it is the word of God. 

  Perhaps if you can forgive me, then I may enter heaven. Do you believe in heaven, Detective? Not on the outside, necessarily, but in your heart of hearts? Do you know that God was here? Because I see him every day. In a smile. In the laughter after a really good joke. In the eyes of this man when he melted away. He made peace with God, and so have I. What about you, Detective? Where will you find your peace?

  Raguel 

   Castiel felt like he was going to be sick again. He handed the letter to Sam and walked away from the scene. He needed air. A cigarette, maybe. He felt in his pocket for the box, and slid out the last cigarette, lighting it between his teeth. His mouth and throat burned from the smoke, but he inhaled it gratefully. After the letter, he didn’t think it was Sam anymore. It didn’t read like something the Rookie could write. It wasn’t his voice. Castiel’s gut wasn’t in it anymore, and if he knew anything in the world, it was that he needed to trust his goddamn gut.

 Killers taunted lead detectives all the time. It wasn’t new, but somehow the letters felt different. They felt too damn specific. He turned back and looked at the body. Sure, they thought it was a slam dunk, but was it? They didn’t know that the man was guilty, not for certain. They hadn’t even arrested Metatron yet. He could have been innocent. He probably was.

 Castiel stomped out the burning embers from his cigarette and before he could stop himself, he took out his phone and dialed Dean.

 “Detective, is that you?”

 “Are you angry with me?” The line was quiet. “Dean?”

 “The kid forgave you, so no, I guess I’m not.”

 “Good. That’s… good.” His stomach twisted and turned, the sky toppling over itself. It felt like being drunk. It felt like he was losing it. 

 “Cas, are you okay?”

 “No, Dean. I don’t think I am.” Castiel squatted down, and put his head between his legs to keep himself from throwing up.

 “Where are you? Are you still at the scene?”

 “Yes.”

 “I’ll come get you.”

 “Dean you don’t have to I…”

 “I know. I’ll be there in twenty, Cas. I’ve got you.” Click.

 Sam came to find Castiel after a few minutes. The tall, lanky kid had his hands shoved in his pockets. He looked down at Castiel through a too-long strand of hair. “Hey, you good?”

 “I think I’m going to be sick,” Castiel admitted, his voice hoarse from the bile rising in it.

 “Hey, sit down,” Sam said, putting his hand on his shoulder. He lowered Cas to a seated position on the parking bumper. He didn’t remove his hand until he was sure that his partner would be okay. 

 “Not to be weird.” Castiel laughed dryly. “But Dean is coming here.”

 “Why?”

 “He thinks he’s picking me up.”

 “Thinks?”

 He sighed. “He is coming to pick me up.”

 “Right. He does that. He likes to take care of people.”

 Castiel put his face in his hands. “This is happening because of me.”

 “It isn’t. You really can’t believe that. This guy is a psycho. There’s nothing else to it.”

 “Sort of seems like that there is a lot to it.”

 “It’s a puzzle,” Sam agreed. “Maybe you should get some rest. I was on the phone with the Captain a bit ago. He thinks we should issue a statement - well, that you should.”

 “Me?”

 “You’re the head detective.”

 “Right.”

 “He’s officially a serial killer, Cas. Three victims and he’s escalating.”

 “I know.” He sighed. “It’s more pertinent than ever that we catch him.” His eyes shifted up as he heard a car door shut.

 Dean was jogging away from his Impala, toward the two Detectives that were sitting on a chipping, yellow parking bumper side by side. “Hey. Got here as fast as I could.”

 “Hello, Dean.” 

 “Hey, Detective,” Dean said gently, his eyes moving from his brother to Castiel. 

 “I’ll give you two a minute,” Sam said, standing up. He brushed the paint chips off the back of his pants. 

 “Just take my squad car back, okay?” Castiel tossed Sam his car keys.

 “Sure thing.” Sam caught them in the air effortlessly. “I’ll see you later.” He nodded to Dean before jogging to the car.

 Dean lowered himself next to Castiel. “Want to talk about it?”

 “There was another vic. Another letter written to me.”

 “Shit.”

 “Yes. Shit, indeed,” Castiel uttered, humorlessly. His eyes were focused down onto the small, broken pieces of gravel on the ground, scuffs on his shoes. “He was talking about forgiveness. How, if he got my forgiveness, then maybe he could be absolved for his sins. I don’t know how that makes sense.”

 “Maybe he thinks that he’s doin’ right by you.”

 “He isn’t.” Castiel sighed, and Dean wrapped an arm around him in comfort. He rested his head against Dean’s shoulder. “I’m sorry that I accused Sam. I don’t think it’s him… this seems different.”

 “Seems like the guy’s in love with you.”

 “What?” Castiel sat up a little straighter and turned to look at Dean. His eyes were wide, and his mouth ajar in complete horror. He could feel the world start to tip off its axis again, as Dean cut him off. 

 “He’ll sure be disappointed when he finds out that you have a boyfriend.” Dean grinned widely, meeting Castiel’s eyes.

 He ran his tongue over his dry bottom lip, trying to process what Dean was saying to him. “Boyfriend?”

 “Yeah, why not?”

 The world stabilized. It stopped spinning. His feet were settled on the ground, he could feel the sharp edges of the parking bumper digging into his thighs and ass, and everything made sense. Dean. The guy. His knight in shining whatever. Castiel couldn’t help the smile that was tugging on his lips. Dean Winchester’s boyfriend. What a fucking concept. It was unreal. It was ridiculous. It was right. “That’s what you want?”

 “Would you rather date the killer?” He teased back, his green eyes brightening with a glint of fire from the crime scene. 

 “We did agree that I have a thing for bad boys.” Castiel’s cheeks heated up at the words that were coming out of his mouth. He felt like a teenage girl. 

 Dean gasped playfully. “I’ll show you bad, Castiel Novak.”

 “Promise?”

 “Yeah, I do.” He leaned in and kissed Castiel right there in front of everyone, at a crime scene like nothing else mattered in the world. Maybe it didn’t. He could admit that it felt like everything slowed down when Dean kissed him, like everything was warm. Maybe it wasn’t the worst thing, falling in love. Maybe feelings didn’t have to be the fucking end of things. Maybe, just maybe, being around all the death made Castiel forget how good it can feel to be alive. 

 “We never got to finish those cheese fries,” Castiel said carefully, shifting his weight on the bumper, his thigh brushing Dean’s.

 “You askin’ me back to your place, Detective?”

 He shrugged. “Seemed like the boyfriend thing to do.”

 “I like the sound of that.”

 “So do I.”

 “Alright, it’s a date.” Dean grinned.

 “I suppose it is.”

 Dean stood up and offered a hand to Castiel, pulling him up to a standing position. “We done here?”

 “Yes, we’re done.”

 The two laced fingers and walked to the car, away from the crime scene, and away from the fire that was finally being extinguished in puffs of gray smoke.

 Dean drove them back to Castiel’s apartment. One of his hands was on the wheel, the other on the back of Castiel’s neck. He squeezed gently, pushing into pressure points, rubbing out knots that had taken up residence in Cas’ muscles long before he was ever a police officer. The music was low against the rumble of the black Chevy Impala’s engine, so the lyrics didn't register in Cas’ mind. It was a white noise track, the sound of blood rushing through his ears and into his cheeks. He let out a low groan when Dean’s fingers dug into just the right spot, sending his chin tilting up and his mouth hanging open. 

 “Let it out, Detective,” Dean hummed darkly, his mouth twisting in a smirk that was almost smug. 

 Castiel wanted to be annoyed, he wanted to snap at Dean for being a brat, but all he could think about was the fingers on his neck. They dug into the knots, rubbing small, tight circles, and then pushed in deep, long, and careful. The ache melted away, tingling through him like a current. Those fingers. Castiel swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. What else can he do with those? 

 Cas opened one eye to catch a glimpse of him. Dean was looking out the window, the fingers of his left hand tapping the steering wheel to whatever song was playing in the background. His head bobbed slightly to the same beat. He was focused and relaxed in a way that Castiel couldn’t fathom. He could feel Deans fingers shift down from his neck to his shoulder, still rubbing in gentle circles. Even with fabric there as a barrier between their skin, Dean’s touch left Castiel’s skin tingling, goosebumps perking up along the length of his arm. 

 “Cold, Detective?” Dean's voice was a low rumble, like thunder in the distance. His eyes were fixed ahead, but somehow Cas felt like Dean was watching him. Like his eyes were examining every piece of him. 

 “I’m fine,” he said, his voice betraying him with an almost whine. There was a pit growing in Castiel, his stomach churned and pushed out the previous nerves from the case, to make room for him. Cas’ eyes flickered back to Dean as his bicep flexed and released under his flannel shirt from squeezing Castiel’s shoulder. The corner of his mouth was pulled into a smirk, like he was proud of himself. 

 “Do I got somethin’ on my face?”

  No, but you will, Castiel thought, suddenly a bit smug as well. “Yes,” he said instead, reaching across his body to brush his thumb against Dean's bottom lip. His breath changed against the pad of Castiel’s finger. He sucked in air, then let out a ragged, trembling breath as Cas pulled away. “I got it.”

 “Thanks,” Dean almost squeaked, his hand gripping Cas’ upper arm now. 

 He turned his gaze out the window to his right to hide his burning cheeks. Dean was put together, confident, sexy. He didn’t seem the type to be affected by such a simple touch, but the tapping on the steering wheel had stopped and was replaced by a tight, white-knuckle grip. There was something deeply sexy about watching Dean wind up, like Castiel was turning a dial and working Dean up until he popped. He’d let it feel like a dark desire - a fantasy - for so long that it felt displaced in his mind. It was unrealistic. And yet, when Dean ran his fingers down Cas’ arm, capturing their fingers together in a tight clasp, Cas felt that perhaps it wasn’t so unrealistic after all.

 Castiel sucked in his breath as Dean pulled their joined hands into his lap. He was sure that his pulse was moments from bursting, and Dean had to feel it under the pressure of his thumb as he rubbed small circles on Cas’ skin. His eyes flicked up at Dean for a second, a stolen glance. A glance that Dean stole right back. As Castiel’s eyes scanned over to his left, they caught Dean’s looking right back at them. His pupils were wide and his lips parted, letting out that same ragged breath as when Castiel had first touched him. He looked flushed and wanting. 

 They were less than a block from his apartment, but it could easily take another half hour to find parking. He couldn’t wait that long and although having Dean inside of the car was an entirely different fantasy, that wasn’t the one that he needed at that moment. “Drive,” Castiel demanded, his voice low and rough. Dean just nodded and let off the breaks, moving forward through traffic. He craned his neck to change lanes, sending another chill down Castiel’s spine as he counted the freckles along the length of Dean’s neck. “Park up here,” he instructed. 

 “It’s a no parking zone,” Dean complained quietly. “Can’t.” 

 Castiel’s eyes locked on Dean’s. He didn’t give a damn. “If you get a ticket I’ll take care of it. Park, Dean.”

 The adam's apple in his throat bobbed as Dean visibly swallowed, his knuckles gripping the wheel tighter. “Okay, but I need my hand.”

 They untangled their fingers, but Castiel left his hand resting on Dean’s thigh. Dean stuck his tongue between his teeth, just barely, as he turned the wheel to complete a difficult parallel park. Cas’ fingers danced along a worn spot on Dean’s jeans, feeling the rough denim scratch against the pad of his fingers. 

 Dean grunted in response. “Gonna make me crash.”

 They slid into a spot right in front of the stoop of the apartment, and Cas opened up the passenger side door and got out. Dean met him at the stoop, and Cas’ spine immediately straightened as he felt Dean’s fingers curl around his suspenders on his lower back. He may have had a hand up in the car, but now that Dean’s hands were free, he was afraid that the tables had turned. They climbed the stairs, Dean tugging on the suspenders like a lifeline between them. 

 They reached the doorway, and Cas unlocked the deadbolt with trembling fingers. It wasn’t a breath past when the door clicked shut that Dean’s hands were on him. Castiel groaned, his head dipping back as a pair of hands pressed into his chest, sending his back into the door. Dean’s lips were on his, hot and urgent. “You’re doin’ things to me, Detective,” he groaned against the kiss, before pressing their bodies together completely. Castiel couldn’t speak, there were no words left in his mind that could reach his mouth, so he just opened his lips to allow their tongues to brush, and when they did Castiel felt that he might melt right there. 

 Cas pressed his leg against the inside of Dean’s, eliciting a low growl, and a nip at his lower lip. He brought his hands up to touch Dean’s cheek to run his fingers against the new, late-day scruff that was growing there, but Dean wasn’t having that. His hand caught Cas’ and pinned it next to his head. Castiel sucked in his breath and felt his cheeks heat up to a dangerous level of red, despite the fact that he should have had no blood left in his body to travel anywhere other than his dick, which may have been the only thing that wanted Dean more than he did. 

 He heard Dean exhale sharply through his nose in an almost laugh at his reaction to being pinned. Thick fingers ran up Cas’ palm, linking them together as Dean peppered soft kisses on his neck. It was unbelievably tender, soft, slow, like maybe it all wasn’t about fucking or getting answers, maybe it wasn’t about that at all. Sometimes when things look like a duck, and quack like a duck, they’re just a duck, after all. 

 Dean’s free hand was playing with the hem of Cas’ shirt. He could feel the tickle of fabric and fingers along the sensitive spot right below his belly button. It was gentle, almost unsure, and so Castiel whispered, “Dean?”

 “Huh? Yeah?” He pulled back from the spot he was nuzzling against Cas’ neck, and looked at him from under hooded eyes. 

 And god they were so green, his lips were swollen, and his breath coming out shaking and wrecked. Cas’ chest squeezed at the sight of him, his heart pounding, threatening to bust out of his chest like in some damn cartoon. Dean was beautiful. It always felt like a ridiculous concept, to describe a man as beautiful, but fuck, there he was. Dean was beautiful and it scared the shit out of him. He was staring at Dean, and he didn’t think he would ever feel that way about anyone again, like he may never see someone worth looking at again, like if he looked away that Dean would melt away. He wanted to take a picture, a painting, a fucking statue or something just to capture every freckle against flushed skin, pink open lips, and dazed, green eyes almost glowing like a cat’s in the poor lighting from his apartment. Dean’s forehead pressed against Cas’, the heat of their skin mingling, causing a deep sigh to escape Cas’ open lips. “Dean,” he murmered unintentionally, because fuck, what else was there for him to say? 

 He caught a smile on Dean’s lips before they pressed back against Castiel’s, slower this time, precise. Fingers slid behind Castiel’s back, pressing into the skin under his untucked button-up. Just like he did when they were dancing, Dean guided Cas’ body with his fingers and the palm of his hand. They turned, slowly, Castiel running his free hand through Dean’s hair, down his neck, cupping his shoulder blade. Dean wasn’t built, he didn’t look like he spent his off time at the gym, but he was strong. Under a soft cushion, he had strength, biceps with weight, and muscles in his core that Castiel believed might be able to hold him up, and that thought sent a new wave of chills down his spine. 

 Cas moved backwards by the push of Dean’s chest against his own, their lips never disconnecting as they moved. He deepened the kiss, running his tongue along Dean’s bottom lip, his chin starting to sting from the friction and the stubble. Castiel felt an emptiness as Dean’s fingers left his own, the skin between his fingers sweaty and hollow, but Dean seemed to have something else in mind. Cas felt a tug on his shirt as Dean blindly fumbled with the buttons down the middle of his shirt, using only his free hand. 

 Cas followed his lead, by moving his own hands to shrug out of his suspenders. Once his arms were free, he hooked his fingers in Dean’s belt loops, pulling his hips to Castiel’s. He needed Dean closer, and the feeling of Dean’s arousal pressing into his own was enough to make his soul leave his body. He let out a low whine into the kiss, sucking Dean’s tongue into his mouth. Cas was drunk on him, drowning in the taste of his tongue and the tickle of his fingers, and the heat from below his belt, pressing and grinding their bodies together as they walked. 

 Dean obviously wasn’t watching where he was going, because the back of Castiel’s legs hit something solid, sending him falling backwards onto the couch. The only saving grace was that his fingers were still in Dean’s belt loops, so they were now pressed flush, even the tips of their noses bumping and brushing together. Castiel saw Dean’s eyes widen, saw his hand move behind Cas’ head to try to hold himself up, before he lets the bubbling laughter he was holding back release from his lips. The corners of his mouth curled up into a wide, open grin and he laughed, squinting, causing Dean’s image to blur, and he had to hold his chest, because fuck that was funny. Dean’s hair stuck up on one side from Cas running his fingers through it without a care. He looked adorable. 

 “You look good like this,” Dean said with a gentle smile, brushing a stray hair away from Cas’ forehead. 

 “Like what?” He asked, his breathing finally calming down. He let out another shaking giggle before finally relaxing back to his normal state of rest.

 “Happy.”

 “You’re so annoying,” Castiel lied, knowing full well that his eyes gave him away. 

 “You love it.” 

 He did. He hated to admit it, but he did. He loved everything about Dean. He loved the way his breath bubbled when he laughed, the way his eyes wrinkled around the corners when he smiled really widely, the way his bottom lip poked out when he didn’t get his way. Dean was a smartass, but he came running when Castiel was upset. He made cheese fries, and he slow danced to Steppenwolf. He made Castiel’s heart race when he said his name, Cas, when he caught his green eyes staring, and when he felt his lips brushing against his own.

 “Do not,” he grouched, but when he met Dean’s eyes he melted into the couch.

  It’s okay to love someone that’s alive.

 “You make me happy,” Cas admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, even though normally he wouldn’t, even though it hurt to think about what it meant, even though he knew that it would let those feelings blossom and grow within him. For once, he didn’t care. “Kiss me, Dean.”

 And he did. 

 Dean left fluttering kisses on his lips, the corner of his mouth, his jaw, his neck, all the while his fingers worked the last of Cas’ buttons. His shirt opened, and Dean let out a breath that sounded a lot like “fuck”, which made Castiel’s pulse pick up speed. He let his eyes flutter shut as Dean’s fingers traced patterns along his chest and down his stomach, like a child writing his name in the sand. He remembered his breathing as Dean’s lips followed the same pattern as his fingers, kissing and tasting his skin. It lit a fire within Castiel, his stomach flipping, and his fingers curled into the fabric of the couch as Dean sucked on the skin below his belly button and unbuttoned his slacks. His zipper was down in one fluid motion, and although he would normally feel awkward and exposed, he felt nothing but that heat, the desire, the need to touch and be touched, so he lifted his hips to allow Dean to work his pants midway down his thighs. The muscles in his stomach flexed, and he sucked in breath like he was breaking through water after a dive, as Dean’s tongue teased at the waist of Cas’ boxers. 

 Dean hummed in approval, and Castiel felt his touch hover before his fingers ever so carefully stroked Cas’ length through the fabric of his boxers. His back arched immediately, the crown of his head pressing firmly against the arm of the couch. Dean’s touch was light and feathery, not how Cas would’ve expected him to be underneath the flannel and heavy boots. It was better than he could’ve hoped. Dean’s fingers barely tickled along Cas’ cock, making his hips instinctually lift toward contact. Dean pressed his free palm against Cas’ middle, holding him in place. “Don’t move,” he instructed as he pressed a soft, wet kiss against the head of Cas’ cock through his underwear. 

 Cas sucked in his breath again, letting out a quiet whine. Dean’s mouth was warm and soft, and Castiel pressed his back as firmly to the couch as he could possibly manage, his dick twitching in disobedience. He could feel Dean’s lips curve into a smile as he pressed a kiss against Cas’ hip. He wasn’t used to being teased, being tested. If he was being honest, it’d been so long, that he wasn’t used to being touched at all, desired. “I’m gonna let you out now, Detective,” Dean almost purred against his skin, his lips vibrating against the soft skin below Cas’ belly button. 

 He opened his mouth to respond but a low, desperate moan was all that escaped his lips, so he just nodded instead, because what else could he say?

 Dean tapped his hip, instructing him to lift them up. Cas followed his instructions, having always been a good student. Blunt nails scraped against his hips, as Dean worked his boxers down to meet his slacks at his thighs. Another shiver rolled through him as his cock finally met the air, but the cool air was quickly replaced by a hot, wet gasp. Cas’ mind immediately spun out of control, and he opened a single eye to catch Dean staring at his dick in almost awe. His lips were a breath away, and fuck, seeing Dean look at him like he was something to devour was almost enough to send Cas over the edge. He let his eyes shut again, clamped tightly, his heart racing, blood rushing in his ears. 

 In the darkness behind his eyelids, he was almost seeing stars, sparkling like the night sky, as Dean pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock. The muscles in his stomach twitched, as he tried to keep himself laying flat as previously instructed, but even though his eyes were closed the image of Dean was still burned into his retinas like he’d been staring at the sun. Dean with his hooded eyes, his lips open, tongue running over his bottom lip, his tongue… my God. Castiel gasped, his hands immediately shooting to Dean’s hair as he felt a lick up the vein underneath his cock. 

 He massaged his fingers through Dean’s hair, just about gripping it for dear life as he felt himself disappear completely within Dean, past his lips, his tongue swirling. Careful, precise fingers worked into the mix, stroking along with the movement of his lips and tongue. Cas spent all of his time thinking, he wasn’t talkative, but his mind was always a flutter of a thousand thoughts running into each other, yet as long as Dean’s mouth was on him, he had no other thought in his mind for the first time in his life. It was just Dean. 

 Dean and his smug attitude, his pink lips, freckles littering his cheekbones, his green, challenging eyes. His hands on the wheel of the Impala. His hands on Castiel. Kissing, yearning, wanting, breathing. 

 Dean’s hand moved from Castiel’s stomach, giving him silent permission to move his hips again. So he thrust slowly into Dean’s mouth, fucking into him, wishing that there was a way that he could kiss him, but instead he squeezed his shoulders, pulling a deep, muffled groan from his mouth, the vibration against Cas’ skin sending waves of pleasure through him like an electric shock. He could feel himself coming undone, as if every brush of Dean’s fingers and swipe of his tongue was breaking down the carefully crafted wall he’d built around himself. 

 “Dean,” he breathed on the tail end of a groan that came deep from within his chest, opening his eyes and tilting his head up to look. Dean’s only response was running his tongue over the head of Castiel’s cock again, slow and tantalizing, causing Cas’ toes to curl inside of his shoes. “Dean,” he hissed again, tugging on Dean’s hair to get him to pay attention. 

 “Mm?”

 “I can’t… I’m…” Castiel gasped in frustration, his hands shaking against the back of Dean’s neck. 

 Dean offered a wicked smile before taking Cas in again, picking up speed, pulling out all the stops, until Cas couldn’t no longer handle it. His head fell back, his mouth open in heavy, labored breaths, his hips matching Dean’s movements. He felt himself fall over the edge, his skin tingling, toes curling, fingers digging into Dean’s skin, his body hot with ecstasy. He opened his eyes with great effort just to catch Dean wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. 

 As Cas stared at him, beautiful and breathless, he thought, fuck, I’m spent. I’m ruined. It’s him, isn’t it? The one that’ll break everything in me, just to put it all back together again. And he knew, no matter how much it scared him, and how much he wanted to escape, that there was a real risk that he might fall in love with Dean, and that if he did, he would never recover. 

 “Kiss me,” he whispered, desperately. 

 “You don’t have to ask me twice, Detective,” Dean said, his voice almost slurring as he climbed up Cas’ body. Dean’s hand ran along his jaw and cupped his cheek before pressing a tender, euphoric kiss to his lips. 

Read Part Five

Masterlist

Art by @cryptomoon

[emotionalcello-makefanfics]

WARNING : Graphic description of BLood and Violence. A Mild description of Panic/Anxiety attack .... 

And Not Beta Read. Sorry if there’s a mistake.

Click link to read on AO3. Click Keep Reading to read on tumblr~~

Chapter 1 3

Chapter 2

Word count : 2.4 k

From time to time their hangouts on Fridays become less frequent. Tim had already made meeting with Jason -a regular civilian- hard enough with his lifestyle. Back then, Jason would always seek Tim, just taking him out of that busyness for a chill night out. Or just because he misses Tim, and wanted to see his face.

Jason doesn’t do that anymore.

They used to meet once a week, that turned into once in a while, and it’s been two months since Jason saw him last. They would still text regularly though, because even though it’s hard to meet Tim face to face, Jason never wanted to cut Tim off, never. So texting and calling it is, and it’s so much easier than seeing the person physically.

Jason loves when Tim sends him pet pictures. Tim would send a picture Titus the great dane snuggling with Alfred the cat, and it was the cutest sight he’s ever seen.

Sometimes he would check on Tim, asking if things are well. They would call and chat about petty things at work or things they’re mildly annoyed with. Or sometimes just banter about politics. None of them know how they got into that, but they did.

Jason would ramble about novels and Tim about a newfound manga. Talking and chatting like that is easier than meeting Tim, but it gets less and less easy for Jason.

Sometimes their call will be interrupted by someone. Sometimes Tim sends a couple of pictures with Superboy. Sometimes Tim didn’t reply for a month because of a mission, and Jason can’t do anything but to pray to the void and the universe that he’s alive at least.

He hated those days without hearing from Tim. There are times that his hands will start to shake whenever he was reminded that he hadn’t heard about Tim. His mind just whirls into the worst possibility ever and it’s swirling down too fast for Jason to stop.

It gets dangerous when he would drop heavy things in the middle of work. A car engine, a box of tools, his phone, and as a bonus, sometimes they land on his feet. Or when he sees bad news from a villain on TV, the world would spin a little and it’s harder to breathe.

He wanted to check up. He just wanted to walk to Wayne manor and demanded to know where he is.

To calm himself, he reminds himself that Tim has superheroes friends on his side. A Kryptonian as a soulmate too. Tim will be fine.

But sometimes those train of thoughts backfires.

They really have grown up after all. Jason promised himself that he’ll never let Tim grows away from him, but knowing the path he takes, and the soul mark on his body, some things are inevitable. Even so, Tim will be fine. With or without him.

As ridiculous as it sounds, Jason is anxious because there’s nothing to be anxious about.

“Jason!”

The ground is so close to his face. When did he get down on his knees? No, not on his knees anymore, he’s sitting on the side of his hips. He sees his open hands on the grease-stained ground, and they started to double into four.

“Breathe, Jason. Come on, follow my lead.” It’s Mrs. Knope’s voice. Feeling her hand rubbing soothing circles on his back and following her commands to inhale and exhale.

Jason is getting his composure back, enough to look back to the TV hanged on the wall.

A swarm of robots attack in central Gotham. Red Robin is the first to respond. Tim’s bleeding, thrown to the ground, but he keeps getting back up. Jason wanted to run there, to help, to do something.

His friends came in. Superboy carries Red Robin away.

And Jason sighs at ease.

Tim is safe.

Tim will be fine.

++++++++

[Two Months ago]

Tim

Saw you on tv todya

Today

I rly thought you gonn die if not for your bf saving your dumbass so many times

Get back to me after you’re conscious you mad lad

[One Month ago]

I hope you’re on a mission rn and not purposely ignoring me

Or are you still recovering? you better be having some fingers cracked for not replying to me

Jk tho heal faster bitch I need some Alfred’s fluff belly pics

[Three weeks ago]

Tim what’s going on?

[Two Weeks ago]

Hey, dude, I’m just checking in

Saw you in crime alley

You’re dressed as a girl but you ain’t fooling me

[Two weeks ago]

Nvm it’s not you

Where are you tho?

[Yesterday]

Tell me you’re okay at least

Just something

Anything

Tim

++++++++

It struck like a bad feeling. Like a ghost going through your body, sending chills down your spine that can only mean nothing but bad. He’s started shaking like a scared rabbit. The ground under his feet feels like moving like a boat through a storm, he lost strength in his grip and his legs.

He lands himself on the side of the car he was working on, leaning there until he gets his ground again. From far away he can see Mrs. Knope coming over to him.

“Jason, it’s okay,” she turned the TV off, knowing it’s one of Jason’s trigger.

It’s not. Not this time, and the reason is something Jason couldn’t explain. He holds on to her, and regain his breath like the practice she taught him.

“Mrs... Mrs. Knope,” Jason said after finally catching his breath, “I have to go, right now, I’ll work on weekends in return.” Then Jason takes off without looking back.

“What- oh you better!” she scolded before she’s out of Jason’s hearing range.

Running aimlessly, Jason found himself in the depth of Crime alley, trying to look for Tim there and it is as crazy as that sounds, but his mind is awry from rational thoughts to think any differently. So, there he goes running like he’s a scared tourist. Then, after regaining some of his sanity, he calls and texts Tim even though his chat from two months ago hasn’t been read yet. Unsurprisingly, Tim didn’t pick up.

Bearing no fruit from running around, the only reasonable place he can look for Tim is the Wayne manor.

He has absolutely zero fucks at the moment that it’ll make Batman know that Jason knew about their identities. That’s a problem he’ll deal with after he calms his sudden anxiousness. It sounds like a petty reason but currently, Jason feels like dying.

There’s no public transport to the rich residential area, but there’s a stop near there so he takes it. Annoying the people on the bus with the tapping of his foot. He calms himself, thinking about good things, positive things. That maybe he’s just imagining things, that Tim is fine and maybe on a prolonged mission, and he’s making a fool of himself.

That must be it. He just needs to know that Tim is fine, even though going to his home is stalker-ish, it’s just something Jason needs to do. His embarrassment will have to wait.

Jason runs there as soon as the bus’ door open, powered with adrenaline and anxiousness. Soon, Wayne Manor came into view, and he spams the bell by the gate until someone finally speaks from the speaker in a British accent.

“Wayne Manor, state your business.”

“I need to see Tim,” Jason demanded.

“I’m sorry sir, but Master Timothy is still at work.” Oh, that’s good, now he just needs to go there.

“Where? Tell me the adress.”

“And what is your business with Master Timothy?”

“I just need to see him, he’s not returning my calls and texts the past two months. So, just tell me where he is!” Jason is getting impatient.

“Pardon me, but I don’t like your threatening tone, please contact Master Timothy himself if you’d like to meet.”

“No! Mr. Pennyworth I’m sorry just listen to me,” Jason called his name, and the static noise means the butler hasn’t disconnected yet.

Jason felt like his breathing is getting hard, but, oh god, not now...

“I need to see him,” Jason’s breath is getting shallower, he doesn’t want to do this, but Pennyworth is stalling, deflecting, now Jason knows something is wrong. “I know you know who I am, and I know...” Jason gulps, “I know.”

There’s a pause from the other end, and the gates open.

“Please come in Mr. Todd.” The speakers say before it’s off.

Jason runs through the pathway to the grand 4-meter tall door. A butler opens it before Jason has a chance to knock. Face stoic and head high. A balding drey hair, matching thick mustache, judging eyes and dressed in a pristine black suit and white shirt. The old butler moves away from the door and gestured Jason to come in.

The room inside is warm and cozy, but so big that it feels uneasy for Jason that used to tight spaces. Carpeted floor, a high ceiling with a chandelier in the middle of it and a massive family portrait at the end of the wall. Tim is in it, along with Bruce Wayne, the first adopted son Richard Grayson, the second adopted daughter Stephanie Brown, and the blood son Damian Wayne.

“Master Tim had gone off-grid for an hour,” Pennyworth informed, “The others are trying to find him at this moment, we could wait together if you’d like, to calm yourself from having an attack.” The butler eyes him knowingly, eyes fond and understanding.

Jason grits his teeth, impatient, “No, where is the last point he’s offline.”

“If you have any intentions to find him, I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”

“You have to,” Jason stares down at the butler with fist clenched, “Depends on the area, he may not make it.”

“I assumed you knew about Master Timothy’s capabilities, I guess I assume wrong.” The butler shows his deprecating face towards Jason, and he’s not having that.

“Oh I know Tim can kick-ass, but I know these people even more, and their reputation underground. You don’t know how deep those villains connection runs. The people down there will do anything, only for a few bucks, or just something to eat. And you bet they would kill and conspire, and they won't care who they kill.”

Then, the butler’s expression is finally something else than calm stoic, but he stays silent.

“You don’t need to tell me anything else, just what his alias is, and the last time he’s visible. Please,” Jason begged, and it’s hard to control the croak threatening at the back of his throat.

“He’s last seen on Fulton street,” that’s near Crime alley, “his alias is Cal Corcoran.”

Jason sighs a relieved breath, “Thank you, and one more thing, don’t tell them that I’m looking for Tim.”

“Why is that.”

“Because he won't like my way, and I don’t want him to hold me back.”

Pennyworth’s face twisted in regret, but before the butler can say anything. Jason holds his arm in a firm grasp, eyes sharp the other’s pair of old wise eyes.

“I know you don’t trust me, but you have to believe in me. I’ll find him.” He’s filled with unshakable tenacity, newfound courage and an absolute determination to do anything. “Even with my life on the line.”

Pennyworth doesn’t move even a muscle on his face, then he holds the hand on his arm.

“Please bring him home,” the butler finally says.

Jason nods gratefully and runs towards the city. He knows exactly who to see first.

++++++

Jason had never been back here for years. When he left, he never looks back. How many years has it been? Yet everything is still the same. Still so easy to pick the door open. The room still smells foul, and the furniture is just as old and scarce.

An old man sprawled the couch, a beer on his hand and the tactical gear on his body means that he just returned from ‘work. He looks even older as if that’s even possible compared the state Jason last seen him.

“What are you doing here,” his dad slurred in his speech, not even bothered to stand up.

“You are going to tell me the list of your friends and where I can meet them.”

“And why do you think I would tell you?” He smirks, and he laughs, like a drunk. Then he throws the bottle of beer, aiming for Jason’s head, which he gives credit to his dad it was pretty close.

But he avoids it with ease, and the bottle breaks on the wall behind him.

“Get out! Get the fuck outta--” His dad finally shuts up, thanks to Jason’s knife against his throat.

His dad twists his face in outrage, “You don’t have the balls to--” Jason takes the knife away, leaving a red mark on the neck, and sink that knife on his dad’s right hand and through his thigh when Jason sees it grabbing into something in his pocket. The man only screamed for a millisecond before Jason shoved a bundle of cloth on his old man’s screaming mouth.

There are tears rolling down his sunken eyes. Jason never saw him cry before, not even when his mom died.

Jason left the knife there, and pulls another one and place it on a red line on his neck. His dad twitch away, he tried to, but Jason’s knife presses his neck hard against the couch. There’s no compassion left in him for his dad, not ever fear or guilt when looking at the man’s terrified and pained face.

“I will and can kill you if you’re not useful. I can get the names from anyone else, but I figure... You’d like a chance to do your son at least one favor, wouldn’t you?” Jason doesn’t frown, doesn’t show any expression. He doesn’t want to grace his dad with any expression. The knife sinks into the think fled on his neck, and Jason mercilessly drags it towards his Adam's apple like cutting a cake, leaving a trail of red that leaks blood.

“Wouldn’t you?” Jason says more firmly, pressing the knife even deeper.

His dad is shaking, eye blown wide in terror, and finally nods.

“Good, and along with the names, I’m going to need your guns and stash of drugs.”

[blueplanettrash]

Why Would I Lie?

I have no idea where the ask to this went, or if it was even from an ask. Either way, I hope everyone enjoys! ❤️

When everyone got back to the Castle, Shiro had first priority over all of their attention since he came back close to death with his injuries and had to be put in the pods immediately. Lance brought up his concerns about mind-swishing to Coran before they joined the others and he took Hunk aside to another room to examine him for any neurological problems. While they waited for Hunk to return and Shiro to emerge from the pod they scattered themselves around the room.

“What happened to Shiro anyway?” Pidge asked, turning from where she was staring into the pod.

“The witch hurt him before we went through the wormhole but the fall really did some damage too, also those weird lizard monster things,” he added as an afterthought.

“Wait! Shiro fought monsters while he was bleeding out!?” Lance asked in shock.

“Well, kind of? He was more trying to get away from them then actually fight them, you know because he was bleeding out,” Keith said with a raised brow. Lance pouted and crossed his arms.

“I had to sprint across literally the entire planet to get to Shiro though, even jumped across a canyon with my boosters, and fought those lizard things off of him,”

“Coran and I were stuck in a time loop, every time we reset he got younger until he was just a baby,” Allura giggled. “The mice changed too, it was quite strange, we wouldn’t have been able to make it out if it wasn’t for Pidge and the Green Lion though,” she said smiling at the blushing green paladin.

“Whoa! Really? What happened?” Lance asked in amazement, rushing over to her. Pidge blinked up at him before giving him a proud smirk.

“It was nothing really, I just built a satellite to connect with the Castle,”  she said as if it was no big deal.

“That’s so cool Pidge! I didn’t know you could do that!”

“Yeah, well,” she chuckled proudly.

“What happened to you and Hunk? As soon as Green and I got there I just saw you two burst out of the ocean,” Pidge asked curiously, leaning against the centre console.

“Me and Hunk saved the whole quiznaking planet and everyone living there,” he said proudly, puffing his chest out dramatically.

There was a second of complete silence before they burst into laughter around him. Lance looked at them helplessly as their mocking giggles cut through the air.

“Do you honestly expect us to believe that?” Keith chuckled holding his stomach as he doubled over.

“It’s true!” he insisted.

“Oh, come on Lance, you? Saving an entire planet? Please,” Pidge huffed crossing her arms.

“Yes Lance, it doesn’t seem very realistic,” Allura chimed in.

“Realistic? You were going through time loops, how is that realistic?” Lance argued turning to point an accusing finger at her.

“Why would Allura lie?” Pidge asked, her form tense as if the very accusation made her angry. Lance looked at her in disbelief.

“Why would I lie?” He practically cried. Keith let out a breath of laughter.

“To make yourself look better after sitting at the bottom of the ocean for help?” Keith smirked. Lance looked at him with wide eyes. Why would he think that? Did he really come off as such an attention seeker?

“What! That’s not true, we followed a mermaid ba-,”

“A mermaid Lance? Really? You couldn’t think of something better than that?” Pidge cut him off.

“Yeah, come on Lance! Shiro almost died and you can’t stay out of the spotlight long enough to tell us the truth,” Keith bristled in anger. Lance wasn’t sure when the conversation turned to the black paladin but they were there now.

“I am telling the truth, they were being brainwashed and they didn’t know it, not even Queen Luxia,”

“Wow, first brainwashing, now a Queen? Don’t tell me, she confessed her undying love to you too?” Pidge mocked. Lance jolted back.

“What! No, we-,”

“Finally the truth comes out, why can’t conversations with you be that easy?” Keith laughed.

“Why would you say something like that?” Lance asked looking down at the ground. He knew that he didn’t make life easy for Keith but it was more of a bonding tactic than anything else. He didn’t mean to make Keith hate him, it was never his intention. Maybe he was just an easier person to hate than like.  

Keith looked like he was ready to say something else but they turned their attention away when they heard the doors to the med bay opening and they saw both Coran and Hunk walk in chatting happily to each other.

“Ugh, Hunk finally,” Pidge groaned walking over to him. Keith was following right behind her and they stopped in front of him with smiles on their faces.

“Tell us what happened when you and Lance got separated from the rest of us,” Keith pressed. They weren’t prepared for the excited grin that split across Hunk’s face at the suggestion.

“Oh my God guys, you wouldn’t even believe it! We quiznaking saved a whole planet!” He yelled in excitement, grabbing Keith’s shoulders and shaking him.

“We landed in the ocean and Lance saw a mermaid, at first I didn’t believe him but she was right there and we followed her back to her city and Queen Luxia. She let us have dinner with her but we ended up getting mind-swished, which is basically being brainwashed and then Lance got rescued by rebel mermaids and helped break me out of it, and we kidnapped Queen Luxia but it turned out that she wasn’t brainwashing anybody it was the Baku Garden which was really a giant sea dragon thing, oh man it was crazy! Then Lance hit it with a sonic boom and it dropped all these rocks on it, it was awesome!”

“I mean I guess Lance did most of it but I was there!” He recounted with sparkling eyes.

“Isn’t that awesome guys?!” He cheered looking at each of them. Except they weren’t looking back at him. They were both looking down at their feet, refusing to make eye contact with him and rubbing their arms awkwardly.

“Uh, guys?” He asked in confusion. “Um, Lance, what happen-,” he cut himself off as he finally looked over to his friend. His arms were at his sides, his hands clenched into fists and his eyes were narrowed into a glare directed at the ground. He could clearly see the beginnings of tear tracks starting to make his way down his face.

“Lance, buddy, what happened?” He asked gently, immediately walking over to comfort his friend. Lance silently shook his head, causing the tears that were welling up to roll down his cheeks.

“They didn’t believe me,” he whispered bitterly. Hunk tilted his head slightly in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I told them everything that happened and they thought that I was a liar! They thought that I was lying to make them think that I was better than them! They said that I could never do something like that!” he yelled angrily pointing at them. With every sentence that was spat from Lance’s mouth, they flinched violently, not able to drag their gazes up.

“They said it like I didn’t already think that Hunk,” he muttered quietly in the silent room. Their eyes went from ashamed to shocked horror and finally, they looked up at him.

He was clutched in Hunk’s arms, his face buried in his shoulder. His shoulders were trembling and his fingers were digging into Hunk’s shirt. Hunk soothingly ran his fingers through Lance’s hair.

“How could you do that?” Hunk’s venomous voice cut through them and they looked away again.

“No, look at me,” Hunk demanded with a growl. Hesitantly they did just that and were met with a dangerous glare.

“Hunk-,” Allura tried to start but went silent when Hunk levelled her with a scowl.

“Why didn’t you believe him?” Was the simple question that he asked.

“I thought he was trying to put himself in the spotlight again, like he was better than Shiro even though he almost died,” Keith admitted quietly rubbing the back of his neck in nervousness.

“What? So just because your best friend got hurt, you get to attack my best friend?” Hunk snapped, stepping forward slightly. Lance stood between them, pushing Hunk’s body back with a grunt.

“Hunk, it’s fine,” he muttered looking at the ground.

“No, it’s not Lance! None of this is fine and they need to actually take responsibility for their actions, it’s not right,” he argued. He pointed a finger at Keith over Lance’s head.

“What about when Lance almost died? Did I come after Shiro because someone other than Lance should have spotted that bomb? No! You don’t get to take your frustrations out on somebody else like that Keith!”

“I’m sorry,” he tried but Hunk only spun around.

“Why didn’t you believe him?” He turned his attention to Pidge. She shrunk under his gaze.

“It just didn’t sound like something that Lance would be capable of, I mean, saving a planet?”

“You know better than anyone that when Lance gets something in his mind he will accomplish it no matter what, you’ve seen him through good and bad, how could you be so ignorant to expect anything less than extraordinary things from him, since you first met him, has he ever lied to you?”

“No,” she admitted quietly.

“I didn’t think so, besides he’s a paladin of Voltron and we’ve already saved plenty of planets, what makes this one so different?” He walked away from her, closer to where he could see Allura watching him with wary eyes.

“What about you?” He asked tiredly. He didn’t want to lecture all of them but they had to learn that hurting people was not okay. He knew that Lance wasn’t going to stand up to them, he would just laugh it off like it was fine.

“Lance hardly seems like the kind of person that could take a mission like that seriously,” she told him impassively. Hunk gritted his teeth in anger and clenched his hands tightly.

“That’s what makes you so infuriating to follow sometimes!” he snapped.

“Excuse me?” Allura gasped in shock.

“Don’t act so offended! You always think that you know so much better than any of us, why is that? Why do you get to look down on us when we were dragged from our homes, and forced to fight in a war that we have no reason to be in. We already had enough problems on Earth, problems that we were training to take care of, and Lance was our leader! So don’t think that you can dismiss him as a nuisance because I would turn my back to follow Lance instead of you in a heartbeat,”

Allura looked helplessly at the others in the room, gazing at Coran for longer but he only looked away in disappointment.

“I’m sorry,” she stuttered out.

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to Lance he’s the one that you guys hurt,” he grimaced looking back to see Lance gazing at Shiro’s healing pod. His hood was covering his head with the straps cinched as if to try and block out the sound around him.

Hunk went to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. Lance looked over his shoulder at him, the tears had stopped falling but it was obvious that the pain in his eyes was still fresh. Both of their arms shot out when Shiro came tumbling out of the pod and right into their hands.

Shiro sat right where Lance sat when he came out of the healing pod, slowly eating a bowl of food goo and listening to what happened before he came out.

“Whoa, that’s crazy impressive Pidge!” He complimented her as she finished telling him about the giant satellite she built on Green’s back. His eyes drifted over to Lance and Hunk, strangely Lance had his hood built up and Hunk was standing closer than usual to him, almost protectively.

“What about you guys? What happened?” He could see that Lance’s eyes were a little puffy, perhaps from crying. It wasn’t something that he was about to bring up though, not in front of everyone else anyway. He would try to talk to him later to see if he could help in some way. With a slight nudge, Hunk bumped Lance forward. He looked back at him curiously but he could see him eyeing Shiro instead.

He looked back at Shiro and saw him smiling at him encouragingly.

“We, ah, we saved a planet,” he said quietly. At that, Shiro dropped his spoon with a clatter and gaped at him.

“What? No way! What happened?” He asked leaning forward in excitement. Lance’s eyes widened.

“You believe me?” He stated in shock.

“Well, yeah it’s not that hard to believe, I mean we are flying around space in mechanical cats,” Shiro laughed laying his elbows on the table. “Now tell me what happened!”

At that, Lance’s smile returned and he eagerly recounted their mission from the first glimpse of Florona to the kiss he got from Plaxum.

They watched Shiro and Lance talk and understood how they needed to change. They had to believe in their fellow paladin, their friend. He had listened to all of their stories with a sense of wonderment, never once thinking that they had told him lies. Even though he listened to them with such excitement, they shut him down within a few words with nothing else but their own opinions of him. Hunk was right, it wasn’t fair to him and the only thing they could do now was give it time.

Stories Masterlist

[mummifymecaptain]

ghost in your eye

Read me on ao3!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/OC

Rating: Mature (18+)

Chapter Four

The target was...familiar.

And confounding. Odd. Perplexing. Inept. Bothersome.

But familiar most of all.

From the moment he’d been shown her photo, he’d been unable to shake the feeling that he’d seen her before. A feeling that had only intensified the longer he spent in her presence. He’d be glad when the mission was done and she would once more fall into obscurity, like all the rest.

But as the night wore on, something told him it might not be as simple as that. Not as his gaze slid back to where she lied sleeping for the umpteenth time in the hour. Not as he found himself unable to deny her. He was supposed to have brought her straight back. No detours.

And yet…

It was her resilience that had confused him the most. She’d seemed unperturbed by his appearance in her private residence. And she’d shown not an ounce of fear towards him, not when he moved too fast, or too quietly. Not even when his hand had been around her throat.

No… She’d shown him kindness. Been polite. Even attempted humor, at times.

She’d smiled at him.

He didn’t understand her. And that scared him. She scared him.

For decades, his targets had always behaved in a similar manner. They got angry or scared, they cried, they bargained, they fought back. She’d done none of those things. Hadn’t even seemed all that surprised to find him waiting for her. Almost as if...she’d expected him. Which, once again, didn’t make sense.

Lena Taggerty didn’t make sense.

He knew she’d been aware of him. Had been studying him. It was the reason he’d been sent to bring her in. And he’d seen the notes in her apartment, alongside a handful of other research projects. She was a conspiracy theorist, as all the others he’d recently hunted had been, though one deeply rooted in history and fact. More concerned with finding the actual truth to the conspiracies, regardless of the theories.

And as he’d waited in the dark apartment for her arrival, he’d wondered why she’d been marked for extraction rather than immediate termination. The others had been terminated.

But now, he suspected her episode at the rest stop had something to do with it, that her research had just been a convenient diversion. The way she had screamed still rang in his ears. She’d sounded as if she’d truly been about to be murdered. And he would know. He’d been the cause of enough of those screams.

It had also been the first time she had looked even remotely afraid. The whites of her eyes had been abnormally large. For the brief moment he’d seem them, that is. Before she’d covered them with her hands and had begged him not to make her look. Look at what, he wasn’t sure.

I don’t want to see what he did to her, she’d said.

They’d been the only two in the room. In the whole building. Yet, she’d seen someone who was not really there. He flirted with the idea that she’d been playing him, attempting to catch him off guard and escape, but quickly dismissed it. True horror, like that of which she’d displayed, couldn’t be faked. No, whatever it was she’d experienced, it had been very real for her.

There was much more to his target than he’d been told, but that wasn’t necessarily outside the norm. His job wasn’t to ask questions, to think. It was to do as he was told, without hesitation. He was already on thin enough ice for disappearing for three days after D.C. And he could be sure to expect swift punishment for taking too long this time. They should have been back by now. He shouldn’t have stopped again.

But she had asked. For a rest. A chance to sleep, even for just an hour or two. So far, he’d given her three and a half. The sun would be rising soon. They needed to get moving.

“Hey.” He kicked the rubber bottom of her shoe. “Hey. Get up. We have to go.”

The target woke slowly, raising her head from her bag, which she’d been using as a pillow. She blinked blearily up at him, lips parting in a soft yawn. He looked away.

“Time s’it?” she murmured, stretching her arms above her head with a groan.

He almost didn’t answer. He’d never spoken to a target as much as he had to her. Had never been allowed to. It felt almost like an act of rebellion as he said, “Early.”

She frowned, but made no comment. Good. Every time she spoke to him, he started to question himself. It made his head hurt.

She did not remain silent for long, however. If he knew one thing about this target, it was that she liked to talk. Not even to another person necessarily. Just...in general. She talked just for the sake of talking, to fill the silence. No thought was too private to pass her lips. Her inner monologue, on display for the world. It made her infuriatingly transparent.

“Is it much further? The place you’re taking me? I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to last on that motorcycle.”

This was not the first time she’d so obviously fished for information, to get him to reveal his mission parameters. He’d yet to cave. But she didn’t seem to expect him to. As if she were only asking because she thought it was expected of her.

She was on her feet now, teetering on unsteady legs as she tried to rub away the last dregs of sleep from her eyes. Mechanics whirred softly as he clenched his fist to battle against the uncharacteristic urge to offer assistance.

She was too soft, he decided. It rubbed against him in all the wrong ways, plucked at instincts from a previous life. Instincts he’d thought beaten and torn from him decades ago. He was meant to be a machine. A weapon. Unfeeling and entirely without conscience. But D.C. had left him fractured and bleeding. And despite their best, torturous efforts, Hydra hadn’t been able to fill those cracks. Her softness seeped between them and expanded, splitting cracks into canyons.

He needed to get away from her. Before the damage became irreparable.

“Thank you, by the way,” she said as he stalked past her to uncover the bike from the tarp he’d laid over it hours earlier. He’d found them refuge in a construction site, amidst steel beams and half-finished concrete walls. “For letting me sleep. And for...earlier.”

She meant her episode.

He didn’t acknowledge her gratitude. Didn’t like the way it chafed his skin. He had taken her. Stolen her from her home, and was on his way to delivering her to the very same people responsible for creating him. He did not know what they wanted with her, but he did know that it would inevitably kill her. Her softness would not survive.

For the first time in two months, and the second time in nearly seventy years, uncertainty churned in his gut. A voice in his head, urging that this wasn’t right. He forced the voice down, locking it away with everything else that had started emerging from his fragmented psyche. He had his mission, and his sole purpose for existing was to complete it.

She wasn’t a she, she was a target. A mission. He did not fail missions.

Except he had, the voice reminded him in a faint whisper. A man pulled from a river. A ghost from a forgotten past.

Proximity sensors went off as a hand neared his artificial arm, not touching, merely hovering above the surface. It made him flinch anyways. “Are you alright?” The target’s voice was still achingly soft, like so much of the rest of her. He wanted— needed —her to stop talking. He couldn’t think with her around.

Incapacitate the target. Complete the mission. Accept the punishment.

Except...then what? Be put back on ice until they found another use for him? Be strapped to a hard chair to have his mind further ripped apart? And why shouldn’t he? It’s what he’d always done. What they created him to do. To always be ready to comply.

But they had not created him from nothing. He had been a person before he had been a monster. The man on the bridge— his failed mission —had told him that. Had been convinced of it. If he tried hard enough, he could almost remember his face. It was foggy and distorted, like straining to pick out individual details of an unfinished puzzle through a dirty, broken window, but the memory was there. The man on the bridge who had claimed to know the person he was before.

“You know me.”

He might like to be a person again. And he couldn’t ever recall having done something he might like.

“I am...conflicted,” he rasped, words escaping him without thought. “I don’t know who I am. Who I...was. I don’t… My mission…” He found himself unable to finish, not even really sure what he’d been trying to say in the first place. Everything was so confusing, and his head felt like it might burst open at any moment.

“Lost things are something of a specialty of mine.” Her hand had still dallied over his arm, and now came to rest ever so gently against the titanium plates. “I could help you find yourself, if that’s something you wanted.”

Something he wanted. He couldn’t even fathom. Didn’t know how to process.

“...why?”

His question seemed to give her pause, the tip of her tongue tracing along her bottom lip in thought. “I saw it,” she said at last. “In my apartment. When I touched you. I saw something broken trapped in your eyes, begging for help.”

“I’m supposed to bring you back. To them.” She nodded.

“You still can. I haven’t fought you on that yet, and I don’t plan to start now. But ultimately, it’s your choice. You’re your own person. Plenty capable of making your own decisions.”

He was not nearly as confident about that as she seemed to be.

“If I take you there,” he stressed— for reasons he couldn’t name —, “they will kill you.”

She only blinked at him, wholly unconcerned for herself. “Most likely.”

He clenched his eyes and his fists. His head was pounding, and he couldn’t think. Everything was so loud. The target— Lena —started petting calm strokes along his arm, elbow to wrist.

“It’s alright,” she soothed. “This must be so overwhelming for you. They...they did something to you, didn’t they? Hurt you. To make you like this.”

He could only nod, and heard her suck in a sharp breath in response.

“Oh dear. You poor thing.” From anyone else, the words would have come across as condescending. From Lena, they bore the comfort of empathy. And they were just enough for him to find a shred of resolution for the traitorous suggestion that’d been bouncing in his skull for the last hour while she’d slept.

“I will not let them have you.”

Not even a full twenty-four hours, and she’d somehow managed to turn him thoroughly inside out. But there was a minuscule sense of peace about him now, having said the words. As though he were intrinsically aware he’d done the right thing.

The only other time he’d felt it had been two months ago— when he’d pulled a dying man from a river.

His eyes opened and immediately focused on Lena, who had an expression of mild surprise on her face, as though she truly hadn’t considered he might say what he did. Her mouth parted to say...something, but he didn’t give her the chance.

“When they find out I defected, they will hunt you. And me.”

Defected. Such a small world for all the weight it carried. For all the freedom.

Lena had her lips pursed now; thoughts turned inward. “I propose a deal, then. You can even call it a mission, if you want, since you seem to be about those.” Her grin was strangely teasing. “I help you remember who you used to be, and in return, you keep me safe from the people who want to turn me into a science experiment. Fair?”

He turned it over in his mind. Calling it a mission already eased some of the tension creeping up his spine, giving him something familiar to latch onto, allowing his shoulders to settle. He held no misconceptions about this being an easy undertaking. Once it was realized he was in the wind— and with their quarry, no less —Hydra would stop at nothing to track them down and drag them in. Their life would be one of constantly looking over shoulders and assessing threat levels. It would still be easier than the one awaiting them at the compound.

With that in mind, he nodded. “Fair.”

<- Chapter Three ✪ Chapter Five ->

[ewig-schatten-und-licht]

SomAgni Valentine Day 7

Who could have known that one mere night walk can turn upside down the life of the prince and his beloved servant?

As if he had known – though he, of course, hadn’t – Agni told his master that maybe they should wait with the walk until the sunrise when the streets will be already lit up with the sun. “Hey, what’s the fun then, Agni?” Soma put his hands on his hips. “Don’t you want to enjoy starlight? Don’t be silly, we’re going right now!”

“As Your Highness wishes,” Agni had to say. After all, he has no reason to worry. He’ll shelter his prince from everything that will stand on their way.

They were walking slowly and thoughtfully down the narrow streets of night-covered Calcutta. “See, Agni,” said Soma in awe, gazing into the starlit sky, “how beautiful there is! And you didn’t want to go!” “My mistake, prince Soma,” said Agni, smiling. “I forgive the mistake, but I won’t forgive you if we didn’t climb onto this high roof!” Soma pointed at the top of the huge building. “I have to say something to you. The thing what can only be said on the highest point of the city, under the moon and stars. Come!”

Wondering what the thing it can be, Agni took a short bow and approached the prince to pick him up and help him to climb, but – in that instant – they were suddenly surrounded. The men, dark silhouettes of which were half-consumed by darkness, watched them like they were something to eat.

It became clear only later, that they were assassins who were very well paid for killing the prince and – literally everyone beside him. Since they had known that there would be an incredibly mighty servant by the prince’s side, there was a big number of them. Attacking Agni simultaneously, they – of course – couldn’t defeat him. But they could distract him – and eventually he almost missed the moment when one of the assassins managed to punch the prince and knock him unconscious.

That man was doomed from that very second. He had bleeded the entire ground beneath their feet – and this was the fatal mistake from Agni. Having been distracted, he missed a few dangerous strikes – and fell onto the ground. The assassins immediately surrounded him, and he thought, desperately, that now he might not have the time or strength, or…

But, having been impressed by Agni’s incredible strength, they suggested him a deal. They’ll set the prince free – but Agni should join them. And – of course prince mustn’t see him anymore.

At this point he had lost his faith in himself to such an extent that he just agreed.

The next morning Soma woke up in his bedroom, safe and warm, but all alone.

And Agni took his first step onto the criminal road. Again.

But this time he had one thing that warmed his heart – his beloved was alive and well. That was the thing worth of millions Agnis.

***

Four years passed.

Dark and gloomy four years. Lonely and sorrowful, tense and unbearable.

Agni was learning to kill people again. Though, mostly the famous and mighty men he had to get rid of, were so disgusting as persons that they were hardly humans, but this didn’t make a slight relief for Agni.

Soma was living his royal life, but from now it’s full of sorrow and guilt. The only thing that keeps him alive – the investigation of Agni’s “murder”, because that very second he was told about his beloved friend’s fate, he had vowed to avenge him. A year after the tragedy Soma got married. He hates his wife, and this feeling is mutual – because both accuses each other of the fact that their two kids were stillborn. “Why every person I love should be dead?!” Soma cries in the moments of utter despair.

No happiness anymore. No shining sun and beautiful blossoming flowers anymore.

And how ridiculous! that night he was just about to say…

“Your Highness!” a servant dashed into prince’s bedroom. “We’ve captured them!”

Soma lost his breath. Them. He knew oh so well what does this mean. This happened. Finally. The prince couldn’t gather himself even to inhale – the thought, plain but so vital, repeated in his mind over and over again. Agni’s murderers are caught. Caught. Caught, Caught. His lungs filled with fresh air and heart – with fresh hatred.

“Do you wish to take a look at them before they’ll be executed?”

No way. They aren’t worth a single glance of his princely eyes.

“Hang them.” A second passed. “Right now.”

His fists clenched tightly and body started shivering as if he had a high fever.

“Any delay – and I’ll hang you instead.”

The servant nodded hastily and run off that instant. And Soma – he just let out an enraged sigh, then paled profusely and took an abrupt step towards the wall. They’ve found them. I’ve found them. His blood seemed to freeze inside of his veins, and only the blurred outline of the empty lonesome room what he had shared long ago with his one and only. I’ll kill them, he thought with loathe. I’ll kill them.

His poor mind, having gotten a long-awaited information, and his poor desperate heart, having experience the frenetic thirst for a vengeance, lost their capability to maintain him on his feet. He fainted, with the only words printed on his lips – though it never left them.

“Agni…”

***

“When you bastards will finally start?!” Soma yelled from his balcony on the second floor of the palace. “Or have you been corrupted by these scum?!” Even having felt his father’s heavy hand on his shoulder, he didn’t stop his passionate insulting. “Then I’ll burn you alive if their head won’t be annihilated this very moment!!!” He got a slap from the father but remained confident and furious, not a drop of regret in his eyes that went to a flame from of a pure gold. “You will NEVER dare touch a human with one of your filthy finger!”

Even so rude and ruthless, these words were the sweetest music for Agni’s ears. To hear his prince’s melodious voice once again was the better blessing for him, and tears of a pure happiness were running down his cheeks.

Even though he was the first one to rise onto the scaffold.

Almost déjà vu.

Since when he became the head of the assassins’ band after the death of the previous one, he had managed to save a few lives, after all. Just took the victims on himself – and did nothing, inventing the ways to deceive the customer. Though, of course, it didn’t make his life slightly easier.

Lowering his head, he tried to stay unrecognized to his beloved. Though Soma certainly would have recognized even the tiniest lock of his hair.

“WAIT!!!” thundered beneath the vain square. The desperate, filled with rage voice made everyone shudder. Automatically, lead just by worrying of the prince’s state of health, Agni raised his head in fear.

Their glances met in an instant.

This second, having looked into the prince’s tear-filled widened eyes, endless hope sparkling in them, Agni froze as if glued to the ground – not able to do anything but stare at his wonderful master. Soma, not wanting to waste a single second, climbed onto the bannister, jumped off his balcony and run towards his precious person.

One long glance, full of hope and love – and they both are sobbing in each other’s arms.

“Agni…” the prince cried, shivering with the whole body. “It is… it is really you…”

“I am here, my treasure…” the servant answered, stroking his master’s hair, “I am here, my gold.”

“Why…” hiding his face in Agni’s chest, Soma exhaled. “Why do you always make the wrong decisions?!..”

Agni jerked away, having been frightened by only thought that the prince has all the right to reject him now. But all his fears disappeared when Soma dashed forward and hugged him again, now even tighter.

“Hush, hush…” desperately whispered Soma, strengthening his embraces and paying no attention to the crowd’s amazement and noise. “They won’t hurt you anymore, darling, they won’t stole you, won’t make you do what you don’t want to…” his fingers were stroking Agni’s back – hastily, not even tenderly but impatiently and greedily, as if he was scared that someone will take Agni away from him again. He was, though.

“You…” that was the thing that was so hard to believe in – after those years of abandonment and this huge fatal lie which Agni had offended Soma with. “You are… forgiving me?”

Soma lifted his head. His eyes, filled with tears, were shining with an infinite happiness.

“How can I even think about such senseless things, when I finally feel my life burning inside of me?”

Senseless.

This only word made Agni shiver with his whole body from a sudden realization.

Grabbing his prince in tight, passionate embraces, he gave him a long sensual kiss, all his love and affection in it. He didn’t care about his so-called colleagues anymore, or about the crowd drown in intense silence, or about the honorable princess shrieking out loud while seeing his husband with another man. All of this was senseless, always. There was only Soma who had sense. Him and his response, soft and sweet. And they couldn’t get enough of each other, having been endlessly craving for each other during these empty years without the source of life in their desperately loving hearts.

The very next day the culprits were dead, the princess – free and Soma and Agni – on the board of ship towards another country.

All the senseless things were left behind forever.

[sailoryue]

LA Fashionista pt 1 and 2

I did some light editing and added stuff that I felt missing and changed a few minor things to flow better. Now I can start typing pt 2 ----------- Marinette was on top of the world. It was summer vacation, so she didn't have to put up with Chloe for almost a solid 2 months. Well, unless she ran into her while running an errand for her summer internship. Which was the greatest thing to have happened since being hand picked to commission an album cover for Jagged Stone. She was officially working for Gabriel Agreste as his personal assistant; while Natalie was taking care of Adrien schedule. She really couldn't ask for a better chance to get her name out there for her designs. Even running into Chloe in town, which happens more than she liked, is worth it. Chloe would still tried to get a rise out of Marinette. But she's learning to not let it get to her, even when she tries to embarrass Marinette while she was working. Plus side of working for Gabriel Agreste was that when Adrien was around, so was his personal bodyguard. She could never figure what his name was, but he was quite intimidating in getting Chloe to back off and let Marinette work. She would be lying if she said she didn't take a LITTLE pleasure in Chloe not being able to see Adrien as he rehearsed. And Adrien was on Marinette's side those times, too. That was the other perk of the job, how she got to see Adrien more often. Even sometimes working along side him. Unfortunately Adrian's own schedule kept him busy, so they really only got to see each other during shows or photoshoots. But that in itself was good enough. The best perk of all was how the money she earned for her internship was going into a fund that, along with any side job commissions thanks to word of mouth via Jagged Stone, would eventually help pay for Marinette going to college and starting her own line. Things couldn't get better. --- The day started as usual, she had gotten drafts of markups for an upcoming magazine article that was going to cover a fashion show the following evening, and was on the way to bring them to Gabriel for his final approval. That and his usual order of coffee. She went up the main stairs to where his office was, left past the picture of Adrien and his father in mourning. His office door was open a crack, and she heard him yelling into the phone. Who ever he was talking to seemed to have made a massive error in regards of the following evenings show, and it wasn't going well for whoever was on the other end of the line. She had seen him get angry one other time, when a model had gotten food poisoning On a dress specially tailored for her measurements on The day of a show. That was an interesting evening, she was surprised he didn't get akumatized over it! Given that, she decided to come back in a few minutes rather then stand there awkwardly eavesdroping. Something had crashed into a wall, causing smaller pictures to rock. And that one large one swing open like a door. Marinette heard some strange rustling behind the door, almost like whispers. She knew she should ignore it, But her curiosity got the better of her. She placed the cooling cup of coffee and folder on a nearby table and carefully eased the painting open to find a darkened room. The rustling sound became more apparent, and she heard something, or somethings, move. "Marinette you probably shouldn't sneak into other people's rooms." A small voice chirped from her handbag. Similar to her original one, Marinette had crafted a more professional looking one of a hunter green color that matched her business suit. The kwami flitted out to look around as well. "I know Tikki. But something doesn't feel right." Whatever was in this room was causing chills run up and down Marinette's arms. There seemed to be a large amount of small things flitting around. She took out her phone to provide some light into the matter and saw what was in the room. "Butterflies??" She asked out loud. Tikki floated near her head. There were hundreds of them. All white. Now Marinette knew something wasn't right. Suddenly a nearby wall opened like a camera eye, casting light into the room and stirring the butterflies. "I wasn't aware you were one to snoop, Miss Cheng." A soft, stern voice quipped at the door. Marinette suddenly felt an unease, her heart kicked it up. "Mr Agreste. I... the door was open. And I... " "Got curious? Yes, purely natural human response. One I have right now is the curiosity on how you ended up with your particular miraculous." He approached Marinette, who stood in the center of the light spilling in from the now open window. As he walked Marinette heard him utter a name. "Nooroo. Transform me, now." Marinette's shock floored her. She couldn't have been more surprised if she tried. She watched as in a blink, the white Butterflies swarming her vision, then settling down. Standing in a purple fancy suit and Shiney silver cowl, her boss, was none other than Hawkmoth. But her shock was short lived as once he was transformed he lunged. She barely had a change to call out to Tikki to transform her. ---------- It was just before sunset. Chat Noir was waiting on the roof of Notre Dame waiting to rendezvous with Ladybug for their evening patrol. But judging by how many bells were tolling to signify the hour, she was running late. It wasn't something uncommon tho. She had mentioned before she'd had a summer job that may run late some days. So he waited patiently, his only company the gargoyles. He had looked at his phone to see if there were any messages from his lady, when he heard some ruckus in a nearby park. He gave a shot at calling Ladybug, but with no avail. "Well, my lady will just have to catch up then!" And swung down on his staff to find out what all the commotion was. He found it was a new akuma, one rather interesting looking. She looked like a miss matched ragdoll, with stitches running up and down any exposed skin. Her outfit a dark green cloak with oversized sleeves, and black high heeled boots. She also had a round bag which seemed to carry sewing or craft supplies. He looked around to see what damage this akuma was capable of. It Looked like she was turning Parisians into mannequins, dressed with eccentric outfits. Except Chloe, he noted she was dressed in a potato sack on her mannequin, which had a deep scowl. "Looks like I need to BUTTON UP for this fight, until Ladybug arrives. he said with a smirk. The akuma turned to him with a scowl. "DON'T expect any backup this time around, kitty cat. You're in this fight alone." Chat Noir jerked in recognition. "Marinette?" He looked into the blue eyes of the akuma. They were the same as those of his classmates. The akuma rolled her eyes, brushing one dark braided pigtail aside. "I am The Fashionista. Not 'Marinette.'" She quipped. Chat still persisted. "Marinette? What's wrong? Did something happen with my-at work?" He carefully approached, holding his baton lowly, at the ready if she decided to throw something at him, his other hand held out gently reaching for her. Then he remembered what she said. "And what did you mean by me fighting alone? Ladybug will be here any minute." That seemed to upset Marinette's akuma more. "Your wrong! Ladybug isn't coming to save Paris anymore!" She screamed, And threw giant knitting needles at him. He knocked them both away effortlessly, knowing they were what caused the effects of the mannequin transformation. What she was saying disturbed him greatly, but he couldn't dwell as he dodged more attacks. He didn't want to hurt her so he mostly dodged as she landed several hits with her fists and feet. Sometimes the hits landed dead on, others was as if she couldn't get a clear shot, and she would trip over herself. As he dodged her attacks there was 2 things he noticed quickly about her. There were tears streaming from her eyes, and there was something red along the side of her face. He had to get a closer look. He took a run to her and the Fashionista smirked pulling out a large knitting needles. But at the last second he used his staff to pole vault over her, she stumbled in surprise. Once over he managed to get her in a bear hug. "You've had me on pins and needles this fight, Princess. Especially with that comment. What do you mean by that? That Ladybug won't be coming?" Grunting Marinette struggled in his grip, trying to elbow him in the stomach, but his grip wouldn't relent. Turning her head to look at him, she said "Give me your miraculous and you'll find out. " At the angle she was giving him, Chat Noir noticed what the off putting Shiney red was. Her earlobe was bleeding. He pulled back in shock, but still kept his arms around her, "Marinette, what happened to your ear!?" He asked. But instead of an answer, she snapped her fingers. Chat Noir felt his arms pulled from around the akuma by a pair of mannequins. The Fashionista turned around with a smirk filled with anger... and sadness. He noted more tears threatening to spill. But the look she had in her eyes behind those tears. They were familiar in a way. But he had no time to think about why. He called out a cataclysm, and felt the power of corrosion in his fingertips. He clenched his fist. "Now now, kitty-cat what are you going to do with that? Surely not use it on these helpless people?" Granted, Chat forgot the dummies were people, but he'd had another thought. He kept his hand in a fist and tugged against the mannequin. Another mannequins brought over a fallen tree branch, while the Fashionista gently took his right hand. He clenched his fist, careful at pulling against her, not wanting the power touched by someone he cared about. "Now let's just dispel that so I can get what I came here for. Right mon petite chatton?" He had only a second to act. " Sorry to do this, my lady, as much as I don't want a free akuma flying round, I'd rather have you back instead." And ripped his hand forward out of her grip, and touched the bag at her side. As he hoped, the bag disintegrated freeing the black butterfly from its depths. As it flew off, the mannequins froze and the colorful outfit Marinette wore faded in a cloud of black smoke. Marinette stumbled on her feet, but Chat caught her against his chest. "Are you OK, Princess?" Marinette looked around bewildered a moment before looking up at Chat Noir. He noted that the tears were still there, quietly streaming down her face. He frowned. "Marinette? What's wrong?" She pushed back from him, he let her, but still reached out to comfort her. She shook her head. What's wrong? That was a loaded question. How could she answer. Her ear gave a throb and she reached for it. Suddenly remembering the fight. How Hawkmoth tore one earing from her viciously, breaking her transformation. Then threatening Tikki if she didn't hand over the other. After that he took advantage of her anger akumatizing her. She had no idea how hard it was to resist that thrall. But then again she'd always had bad luck didn't she? She felt lije couldn't breath, and Chat caught her before she fell. He guided her to a nearby bench, away from the living mannequins. "Marinette, please tell me. What happened? At work; to your ear? You can trust me." He gave her a genuine smile, and gentle squeeze on her shoulder. "It's a long story, but I think you should know. I found out that Hawkmoth is Gabriel Agreste, and he has my Miraculous." Chat sat stunned, his green eyes wide in surprise. His father, was Hawkmoth? "How did you find that out?" He asked, swallowing the growing lump in his throat. "I found his lair in his house by mistake. And," she paused, rubbing at her face as the next part of the story seemed to truly upset her. "When he caught me snooping in his lair, he transformed. Chat, he has the Ladybug miraculous. I tried to fight back, but he's so mug stronger than I expected." He wasn't surprised at that statement so much. He's never first hand seen his father fight, but he remembered stories his mother told of him in his younger years. The fact of the matter, the one that angered him tho was that he attacked Marinette. "I'm sorry that your partner is just a clumsy highchooler who can't even protect her miraculous. " she finished, breaking him from his thoughts. The tears had started flowing again. Chat put a hand on her shoulder giving her a warm smile. "I'm not too surprised you're Ladybug. I actually figured that out halfway thru the fight. If anything I'm grateful that my lady is such a sweet person!" He suddenly got a serious look on his face. It was Marinette's turn to be surprised. "It's the identity of Hawkmoth that caught me off guard." His ring gave warning. There was only one pad left. "Your should go-" "No chance!" He gave a smirk. "I'm not leaving your side one second. I had to let your akuma free, and that means it can come back. And until we can get your miraculous back, I'm going to protect you at all times. Even as my normal self." He gave a cocky pose, just as his transformation faded. It was Marinette's turn to be shocked as in his place was none other than Adrien Agreste. Her jaw had dropped and heart seemed to have stopped. He turned and gave a determined look, still talking in the confidence that was her partner. "I promise we will get your miraculous back, Marinette, and I swear to you. I had no idea that my father was Hawkmoth." Marinette looked back and forth between him and the small cat creature on his shoulder who must have been his kwami. She shook off her surprise. "Don't worry, I believe you." --------- He escorted Marinette home, and she quietly avoided looking at the mannequins around Paris. Tho it seemed as they walked she found every single crack to trip over. How embarrassing. Yet Adrien never said anything about it, just made sure she never actually fell. After dropping her off at her front door, just minutes later he was on her balcony. They had to plan. And, he was going to do whatever it took to make sure Marinette's akuma didn't come back till they were ready. But they knew they had to act fast. And getting those earrings back were the number one priority.