#And if anything he's good at spinning a situation to gain the upper hand

[astro-b-o-y-d]

I love the idea of people only THINKING that Bill is a master manipulator, but his plans all fall apart as soon as you look at them in hindsight and you realize he is making SO MUCH of this up as he goes

[hoiststowline]

into the mystery

part three first _ prev

A familiar shadow of onus and impending kismet skates along the metal floor, nipping at your heels like a caged animal begging for freedom. You don’t know how to compose yourself, shoulders taught and then you’re self-aware that all your joints feel as if they’re wound a turn too tight. Nothing feels right, even if the daunting ask would make perfect sense to deny- any person would rid themselves of this lurking disaster immediately upon first glance.

Streetwise’s upper back plating had a lot more red details than the rest of his exterior, and that’s where you decided to stare while walking down that short hallway. You knew the way to the main room, but when your pace started to drag, reduced to a galling shuffle, he took it upon himself to lead the way while keeping his gait indolent.

It was a natural human disposition not to want to disappoint anyone. You didn’t have to prove anything nor impress them; it was a simple exchange of goods even if there wasn’t blatant gain for yourself. Immediately, you shake your head at such a thought, fingers running over the metal object in your coat pocket.

Rounding the corner caused a slight jolt, another face you hadn’t met before slumped at one of the tables with his chin in his hand, looking over at Hot Spot while the leader talked about something you couldn’t piece together. The mech you don't recognize averts his gaze to the doorway once Streetwise crosses the threshold, then bounces downward to catch your awkward wave hello.

“Hi,” Is all he says to which Hot Spot spins smoothly, realizing your arrival.

“Welcome back,” He hums, a shimmer of something in his crimson stare that you can’t confidently say you’ve seen before. “Is there something we may help you with?”

He isn’t asking flat out if you’ve come up with an answer, which puts a little bit of a damper on your initial plans. “Um, no. Well, kinda.”

Rook knows of the situation, albeit the entirety in a very vague and overextending sense. Groove hadn’t been able to contain his enthusiasm the very night it happened, bursting into their shared room like he was hopped up on engex. He understood there was some sort of agreement proposed, but it stopped there, uncertain as to what the human looked like or even their designation.

You’re nervous, that’s outwardly obvious, not unlike he had been when tasked with joining the Protectobots. Just the way he catches you rocking from your heels to the toes of your sneakers, hands shoved into pockets with a body language that only makes you appear smaller than you already are.

He supposes he has more in common than he originally thought with the inhabitants of Earth, a realization that only piques his curiosity that much further. He’s a little jealous too, mostly because he’s likely the last to have met you and still doesn’t know your name.

“I have your answer,” Swallowing thickly, you take a brave step forward, free from the confines of Streetwise’s looming silhouette. “If…that’s okay.”

“Certainly.” Hot Spot rumbles, turning in full to address both mechs. “Streetwise, Rook- may we have the room?”

“Actually-” It feels as if you were speaking out of turn, whimpering silently when you’ve come to find three sets of eyes on you, all rather intense for your liking.

But now knowing the mystery-mechs name, your tenacious politeness gets the best of you, wanting him to not feel ignored. “First, Rook-It’s nice to meet you. I’m y/n,”

The blue and white bot freezes mid-action, half out of his chair but keeping his eyes trained on you. That was more than he ever thought he’d get out of you, so the introduction was unexpected but appreciated. “Likewise. A pleasure.”

You both exchange a nod of greeting, allowing you a moment to gather yourself to address the bot at your front. “But, Hot Spot, can they stay? It’s for all of you, even if everyone isn’t here right now,”

The leader makes a noise in the back of his throat, and a terrifying idea passes through that you’ve offended him by disobeying his wishes. Instead, you’ve come to find it was a poorly stifled laugh, stuck there as he’s captivated by your sentiment.

“Of course.” He says, hands coming to clasp behind his back, hopeful it comes across as a passive action and not intended to intimidate. “Apologies for the assumption.”

“No, I don’t mean to offend you, I just have a lot more questions, and-” Taking a deep breath, you follow through with some strain. “I’ll do it.”

Streetwise must bite down on his glossa, finding it increasingly difficult to suppress his emotions as they scramble to the surface. Hot Spot masks his surprise almost too well, still steely-faced but with a trained eye, you could see his brow raise ever so slightly. Rook is the only one who’s able to find its voice, heavily impressed though it’s the first time he’s ever met you.

“Really?” He rasps, leaning forward on the table with his palms splayed out.

You nod, addressing him in full. “Yeah. I think the insanity has started to subside, even if it’s just a bit.”

The first thing that comes to mind is how Rook owes Groove five shanix, and the second is how placate you appear with all of this. Streetwise understood somewhere in his processor there was a very real chance you could say no, and he supposes along the way he had begun to believe it to be true. Your agreement was just as a surprise to him as it was to Hot Spot, who saw far too many weaving routes for you to concur without hesitation.

“Though I am ecstatic to hear such a decision, y/n, I must inquire that you concluded such of your own volition? No pressure nor intimidation to comply?” He knows something must’ve been amiss, especially with Streetwise’s untimely confession that there was a small dilemma last night. He wouldn’t have a good conscious accepting your assistance if it was not a decision made of your own will. Not that he assumed something so criminal of his team, but he is aware of how persistent they can be, and he can tell most have already grown fond of you.

Once more, he’s floored that you shake your head no, reaching into your pocket to pull something out.

“Nope. I flipped a coin.” You shrug, holding it up inelegantly in front of Hot Spot.

A silence overcomes the room that is far too loud, and then Rook breaks it to erupt in enraptured laughter, heavily amused by your deadpan. At his effusion, Streetwise and Hot Spot move to glare at him, displeased with his outburst and attempting to get him to cut it out with a discontented look. They both relent as you join in with his merriment, soft hilarity coming forth and easing some of the nervousness from your frame.

“I don’t get it. What’s so funny?” Streets finally gathers his voice, considering Rook for answers rather than from yourself.

When the SUV endeavors twice to explain but can’t properly articulate the joke, you pick up the slack for him. “I think the humor is more so that I left such a critical situation up to a penny I found in my driveway,”

Rook confirms with a thumb up, still somewhat wheezing. Though hardly well acquainted with him, he presented as the kind of guy who understood the severity of the circumstances but was willing to take it as it came with stride. It was rather potent just from his reaction; he seemingly found humor in the little things, an admirable trait. 

“Your methods are… anomalous, but I am in no position to question them.” Hot Spot chuckles for real this time, deep in amusement as his frame relaxes minutely. “Thank you, y/n.”

Streetwise was still too dumbfounded, crouching down beside you to stare intently at the coin as if was too impractical to believe. You offer the penny to him, to which he raises a servo, reaching forward as you place it squarely in the palm of his hand. “I’ll be honest, I knew I was going to do it anyway. The coin just sped up the process.”

“And what if when you tossed it, it said no?” He can’t help his curiosity, still relishing in the gentle touch and the weightless copper in his grasp. “Would you have second-guessed your decision?”

With firm certainty, you shake your head. “No. But I’m pretty sure if I hadn’t tossed the coin, I’d still be at home mulling it over and it would have taken me much longer to come here.”

“Someone’s got to tell Groove,” Rook, having finally collected himself, recalls his bet with the unrelenting motorcycle. “Wait, hold that thought. Maybe don’t tell him, until I can scrounge together five shanix.”

“He can have my penny,” You laugh, nodding in gesture towards Streetwise, who still holds it so gracefully. When he doesn’t answer, nor have any input to the conversation other than his visible disbelief, you go to question it but Hot Spot beats you to the punch.

“Streetwise?” He entreats, to which the mech at your left is pulled from his trance. There’s an unspoken exchange between them that you couldn’t explain even though you’ve just witnessed it, and immediately he stands but not before pushing the coin back towards your chest softly.

“Be right back,” He mumbles, and after a moment, you’re left in the room with Rook.

“That was strange,” Thankful that he said it since it gave you a sense of security that it wasn’t just you who found that entire barter odd. “I thought he’d be a little happier. I know Streetwise was so bent out of shape suspecting it wasn’t going to work out, but that’s unusual behavior for him,”

“Really?” You peel your gaze away from the door they’d stepped out of, now addressing Rook in full. “I hope I didn’t worry him much. I was just…a little unsure about the whole thing.”

Rook rounds the table and comes to stand a few paces away from you, nodding sympathetically. “You don’t have to explain yourself, I’m probably the first bot to understand your situation.”

You don’t get a chance to question his comfort any further as your phone begins to buzz in your pocket, mumbling a sorry before deftly answering the call, frowning as the caller ID, as it was your boss. The conversation didn’t last long, a plea to get you into work an hour or so earlier than your allotted time, and you couldn’t find the heart to say no. By the time you got home to change, you’d just be straight out the door again and didn’t have a moment to linger any longer.

“Rook?” He’d moved across the room to give you privacy, but once the call ended, he’d turned at the sound of his name. “Can you tell Hot Spot and Streetwise that I said goodbye? I have to go to work a little bit early,”

“Of course I can.” He hums, motioning you down the hallway first. “I’ll walk you outside,”

“Thank you.” You sometimes wonder how they all were so nice, so friendly when there was plenty per their position to be disgruntled about. Hot Spot was quite frankly the most intimidating person you’ve ever met on the outside, but he was so placid, and compassionate in every sense that it made you fathom why he was the one in charge. “It was nice to meet you, Rook.”

He makes a noise that sounds like a staticky hitch, taking a second to recollect himself before answering. “It’s really my pleasure. I’m sorry it took so long,”

“That’s right,” You stop just before the exit, realization hitting you. “You weren’t here the other day, and neither was First Aid,”

“Bossbot sent First Aid, Blades, and I on a last-minute scouting mission. I was wondering why, but now I understand it was because he wanted to talk to you.” He replies.

“Blades?” You counter, brow furrowed mildly in confusion.

“You haven’t met him yet?” He continues when you shake your head no. “Consider yourself lucky.”

The door slides over to reveal your car, still parked just at the outskirts of the trees, a fresh coat of rain lingering atop the grass and in the air. “I’m not going to question that, though, I’m sure it’ll be nice to meet him.”

Rook rolls his eyes but laughs, leaning forward a bit to offer you a balled fist, unsure if it meant all the same to you, yet finds flowering delight as you return the gesture without a moment’s hesitation.

“Oh! I almost forgot,” Reaching back into your pocket, you reveal the penny that he had found so funny. “Here. Give it to Groove, to buy you some time for the five bucks you owe him.”

He assumes you’ve converted the currency, flipping his servo over and unfurling his digits as you reach to place the coin there. Your touch is so warm, even brushing his plating in that fleeting second, and he can’t quite get over how small your fingers are.

“Thanks.” He respires, stifling another round of amusement. “I’ll be sure to do that, he’s probably on his way back already smiling like an idiot.”

You trade goodbyes and before long, you’re back on the gravel road that leads back onto the asphalt. A bit of guilt twinged about departing before Hot Spot and Streetwise returned, but you’d be willing to bet that you’d be right back there tomorrow.

“Where’s y/n?” Streetwise re-enters the room without Hot Spot, another notion that takes Rook by surprise.

“They had to go to work early,” He accounts, looking up from the datapad he was previously occupied with. “They told me to tell you they said goodbye.”

“Oh.” He’s lost his good-humored attitude, an unrecognizable solemnness to his demeanor. “Did they get out of here okay?”

“Yeah?” Rook doesn’t mask his puzzlement, tossing the datapad onto the table before rightening his posture. “What’s the matter? I thought you’d be jumping for joy when y/n said yes.”

“I realized something.” He mumbles, shaking the uncomfortable feeling from his shoulders. “Hot Spot thinks it’s all going to work out, so I’ll just have to take his word for it.”

The shift was painfully slow. You moved with no urgency, feet feeling glued to the floor every time you ventured to take a step forward. Though the burden of making the correct decision had departed, it left you with an array of queries that didn’t get the chance to be resolved. There was always tomorrow, but you weren’t very sure that you would get much sleep feeling so wound up.

Secrets like these were supposed to feel impossible to keep, but the abiding insanity of it all would likely paint you hysterical the moment you tried to explain your newfound friends. You missed Groove today, his sociability and overall pleasantness are beacons of light in a dark and indeterminate tunnel of reservation. Even First Aid, his honesty and sympathetic approach to your curiosity, giving you rejoinders when you didn’t feel quite like you deserved them.

Hot Spot, who understood your trepidation and apprehensions, confirming that you were agreeing on your own terms and not by any other means. Hell, even Rook, who couldn’t have been funnier amongst your first interaction, easy to talk to. The aloof Blades who has yet to be seen, though perhaps he wanted to keep it that way.

And Streetwise. Who’d arguably done the absolute most for you, putting his neck out when he certainly did not have to. The one who responded to Groove’s mishap, the one who took you home and tried to make everything appear as normal as humanly possible.

Spiraling thoughts escorted you down the concrete stairs, fingers furling a little too tightly around your bag strap. Everything had begun to make sense but then Streetwise made you feel as if you were backtracking, reversing in progress that you had assumed was such.

“It’s kinda cold to be out here without a jacket,” You jump, head on a swivel only to find a familiar police cruiser up against the curb, unmarked as always but the tinted driver-side window was cracked just a bit. “You look tired. Rough day?”

Momentarily forgetting that there could be others around, you push off the last step and move towards the car. “Kinda. Sorry, that I skipped out; my boss called me in early.”

“It’s me who owes you the apology. I was acting pretty stupid today, and I-” He pauses, catching one of your co-workers exit the backdoor, just shy of going down the stairs. “I know you’re probably tired, but if you have a second, I’d like to thank you. Properly.”

Pursing your lips, you nod, waiting patiently for the door to swing open. To your surprise, the front driver-side door releases, beckoning you into that seat instead of the passenger. “Did I say something wrong?” You ask once settled in the seat, hugging your bag to your chest to avoid hitting the steering wheel. The window rolls up entirely once the door closes over, leaving you penned within Streetwises’ cabin.

“No, no. Not at all.” He sounds exhausted himself. “I…thank you, y/n. I’m going to do everything I can to make this as trouble-free as possible.”

“S’okay.” You offer his mirror a smile, meaning it wholeheartedly. “I had a lot of time to think today. So as long as you’re good, I’m good.”

“We’re good.” He laughs, and it’s so wonderfully relaxed. “Groove is barred from going on patrols until we get the energon situation sorted, but he would very much appreciate it if you could swing by tomorrow.”

“I’d like that.” Thoughts racing a mile a minute, you can’t help the harder you smile, the more your cheeks begin to hurt. “Just have a question, before you go.”

“Anything.” Streetwise replies.

“How’d you know where I work?” That takes him by surprise, the same fuzzy noise that Rook had made earlier escaping his speakers.

Rather swiftly, he collects himself. “I won’t lie. I retraced our steps from going to the store the other day and happened to find your car parked here in the meantime. I just connected the dots.”

Streetwise deflates as you laugh, inwardly impressed by his sleuthing skills. “Well, even so, I’m glad to see you. Maybe in the meantime, start a list of things I can get for you guys to alleviate stress. Top priorities first,”

“You don’t- I mean, not right away-” He tries, but it’s futile.

“I want to.” You insist, finding yourself suddenly looking forward to tomorrow. “And tell Groove I said hi.”

“Can do. Thank you, y/n. I really mean it.” Reluctantly, he re-opens the door, allowing you the means to exit the cabin. “Get home safe.”

“You too.” Waving him goodbye, you pull from the seat and step out onto the sidewalk. “Good night.”

“Night.” Streetwise echoes, waiting patiently at the curb to ensure you got into your vehicle okay, only taking off once your headlights were out of sight.

[poppet-seed]

Siren-Pirate AU Sun

Character facts:

While both sun and moon are twins. Sun is technically the youngest by a matter of seconds. ( moon totally holds this over his head) Known for his quick thinking and excellent puzzle solving, sun is the most social of the three.

Sun is the planner. He's the main person in charge of raid planning, supply runs and keeping track of any ill/ sick crew. He's not the main healer of the ship but is known to get hands on with first aid if the healer gets overwhelmed. He's responsible for checking the ship is sea worthy and recording any damages.

Usually a morning person, it's rare for sun to be seen too late into the night. He's usually in the captains cabin buried in work after hours or resting. However he is occasionally seen sailing the celestial star when his brothers are busy or they're about to preform a raid.

Sun is the most approachable captain, having that kindness to him that allows new crew members to warm up to him fast. He takes the new members under his wing and will often check up on them, offering his support if needed. Although trustworthy, he's sadly horrible at keeping secrets from his brothers. They tell each other everything. Anyone else and he won't say a word. But if you tell sun anything, you're telling all three captains.

Due to his softer nature sun has unfortunately been taken advantage of before. It happened once and only once. Eclipse and Moon being very quick to put a stop to it and made a lesson that it's not tolerated on their ship. Since then sun has become more aware to the signs and is more than capable of throwing any scum overboard himself should he feel he's being made a fool.

Sun is very much a people's person, if not with his brothers, he's socialising with the crew. If not that then talking up towns folks in a bar or the town square. He's good at causing distractions and getting others to trust him. Due to his confident aura sun attracts a bit of romantic attraction from people in bars. He's always flattered and even embarrassed in these situations.

He's definitely a workaholic when he knows a raid is upcoming. Double, then tripple checking his work. It's happened too many times that he's passed out from exhaustion or had to be dragged to bed by his brothers. The whole crew looks out for him in that sense. Being sure to alert the other captains that he's overworking himself.

Sun is extremely good with a sword and will definitely give eclipse a good fight in sparing. He's experienced with cannons and guns but prefers a sword fight. Being agile and flexible allows him to easily gain the upper hand on his opponent. He can be a little bit of a show off when sparing with the crew.

Sun isn't as susceptible to y/n's siren song as eclipse is but he's still capable of being bewitched. His gaze will become far and eyes will glow a vibrant purple. He too, like his brother, will sing along to their song as he makes his way towards the ocean.

Close up below:

When overly tired and running low on energy sun's rays will drop lower and his eyes might dissappear. The rays are an early sign he's tired. The eyes disappearing happen when he's at his limit.

When overly flustered or embarrassed his rays will spin and eyes grow a bit in size.

Sun used to enjoy marine life. The fish and creatures of the deep fascinated him. But after the incident with moon he's rather content to just stick to things above water.

Lore that I'll explain later.

Captain Eclipse

Captain Moon

Siren Y/N

[thisnoodlewritesao3]

Please Don't Say Goodbye | Tsukishima Kei/Reader

Characters: Tsukishima Kei, Reader, Yamaguchi Tadashi

Pairings: Tsukishima Kei/Reader

Warnings: light swearing, crying, implied panic attacks, arguments, yelling, ummm lemme know if I missed anything

Word Count: 2181

A/N: This was meant to be a drabble- okay, in my defence, I've had such writers block and apparently the feels were necessary soooo. This is 1 of 2 fic ideas that were sent to me by @satan-ruler-of-hells for a prompt thing I did (idk if I can find the thing) and the next one is Tendou. So, maybe get ready for more feels of my almost 5 am angst. I also did not proof-read this, sooooo

--------

How had things ended up like this?

Every little thing was like the calm before the storm - the most tense calm that had ever existed; you were walking on eggshells, and maybe so was he, but you couldn’t help it. At least, you thought you couldn’t. Each attempt to try and fix the mess around you only ended up in more heartbreak.

The storm that always seemed to be headed in your direction had tore apart the home you’d meticulously built together. Plates and picture frames shattered to the ground; glass leaving you walking on bleeding feet. The flowers of your love torn apart somewhere in the distance now. Breath stolen from your lungs, but not from those kisses he’d give you back in high school, not from the way he’d dance with you around his bedroom (only to shove you onto the bed when his brother barged in), not from your outrageous laughter at something stupid that had happened. This was a breath stolen from countless nights arguing, screaming, trying to gain the upper hand in a situation where you were both at a standstill. A breath stolen from your heaving words as you scrunch your hands into your roots, pull your legs close to your chest and shove yourself into a corner while he slammed the door and left to God knows where. Breath stolen from the realization that maybe things just weren’t working like they used to, and that it was okay to love him, but to not be in love with him.

Tonight was just another picture perfect example of why you weren’t meant to be together. You’d come home late from work (because of some stupid assignment that you just wanted to finish today). He was sitting on the couch, scrolling through Netflix for something to watch. Honestly, you just wanted to eat something, so you didn’t bother greeting him, but the moment he noticed your presence in the house, he was hot on your tail.

“Where were you?” His voice sharp as daggers, digging under your skin and tearing you apart piece by piece. His arms are crossed over his chest, eyes so judgmental you feel like you’re in court. Nothing you say is the right answer, so you choose to not say anything. Apparently, that wasn’t the right answer either - this you find out when his iron grip settles on your shoulder and forces you to turn around.

“Hey-” you winced, trying to pry his fingers off.

“Where were you?” He repeated, basically growling at you through his gritted teeth.

“I was at work.” You rolled your eyes, turning your attention back towards the fridge, trying to ease the beating of your heart. In, hold, out. You repeat to yourself, barely remembering what all those instagram therapists had told you.

He scoffed, finally releasing his grip in favor of slamming the fridge door shut, “really? Because the last time I checked, your work ended two hours ago. What could you possibly have been doing for two whole hours?” He was in your face now, making you know how pissed he was.

But you already knew. You’d always known. Why did he need to try and make it so blindingly obvious to you?

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Kei, I was working. What part of that is so hard to understand?” You snapped back, moving away from him with a heavy sigh. At this point, you didn’t bother holding back the venom in your words. You knew he had issues (and you knew why) but did that mean he should take it out on you? No. Fuck.

“Two hours! Y/N, I was waiting two hours. I was going to take us to dinner, we were going to have a nice time.” He followed after you, closing every cupboard door you opened, trying to get your attention. “But you didn’t even send me a text. Were you too busy fuck-”

“Oh my God!” You yelled over him, spinning around to face him with your pure unfiltered aggression.

Back and forth you went for what felt like hours. Tears were acid down your cheeks, your spit a very special concoction of venom just for him. And yet, even as you were dry heaving in the kitchen sink, yelling more obscenities at him, you could never seem to stop. Neither could he.

Tsukishima Kei was known for a lot of things, being an asshole was one of them. That you knew too well.

For a while, though, things were good. He loved you. You loved him.

As he sits there, accusing you over and over of cheating on him, even though you hadn’t and you wouldn’t. God.

When had he become so anxious and persistent that things were going wrong? Yes, they were going wrong, but not for the reasons he keeps saying. It’s driving you insane, to the point where you can’t even remember those stupid breathing techniques, or grounding techniques, or anything.

This argument had lost the plot at some point around when he started yelling at you for doing the dishes wrong (you still insisted there wasn’t a wrong way to do them). So you bit back that his clothes were stupid, or that dinosaurs were stupid, something. Something was stupid.

“If you have so many problems with the way I choose to live my life, then get the fuck out.” You screamed, slamming your fists down onto the table and pointing to the door. His expression was scrunched up into something completely unrecognizable - a fine mixture of hatred and anguish. His chest rising and falling so rapidly you’re amazing he’s still standing. His hair is a complete and utter mess, so many times he’d ran his hand through it to try and make sense of the nonsense you were both spouting.

“Fine, I will!” He yelled back, voice hoarse from the past two hours.

You watched him head towards the door without a second thought, grabbing his coat, shoving his shoes on. You didn’t have the energy to call out after him, no matter how much your heart begged you to.

And your heart did beg you to; but it had already accepted that the end had been coming for too long.

You lean back against one of the cupboards, looking up at that one crack in the ceiling that he’d insisted he’d get around to fixing but something had always come up.

If you had to say what was wrong in your relationship, it would just be something. Something was wrong, and neither of you knew what it was, but something would be your downfall. Something filled the air with poison and made you destined to hate each other; something danced around in your words and twisted the meaning; something caressed your cheek as tears fell.

Something was your downfall and you didn’t have the energy to fight it.

So, maybe you’d call in sick the next day, and your boss would believe you because your voice sounded like hell; and maybe you’d spend the entire day lying in bed despite the fact your stomach was beginning for some nutrients; and maybe it would feel good to not have that nagging voice that you shouldn’t sleep in all day.

But today would have felt nicer with him by your side.

If there was one thing Tsukishima Kei was good at (after a lot of practice), it was making you feel just a little bit better with his empty promises and sweet nothings.

So, maybe you’d dressed yourself in his shirt and breath in him; and maybe you’d grab that dinosaur plushie you’d bought him for his birthday so many years ago and pull it to your chest; maybe you’d sleep on his side of the bed even though his pillow wasn’t as fluffy as yours; and maybe, just maybe, you watched his favourite movie on repeat, hoping it would bring him back to you.

Those were all maybe’s. But maybe they did happen, and you wanted nothing more than to be in his arms and tease him for his glasses that he insisted were cool. Or to have him laugh at you for the fact you majored in literature, despite the fact you weren’t good with words.

When your phone rang, you didn’t hesitate in picking it up, almost too excited for his voice, “Kei-”

“Y/N…” Yamaguchi’s voice was soft, understanding. It killed your fire of excitement in an instant.

You listened to him talk, something about how Tsukishima had decided you needed a break and would be staying at his place for a little while. Something about how he still loved you, but he didn’t want to keep hurting you like this.

It wasn’t a surprise that you didn’t manage to keep it together and broke out crying all over again, basically screaming and begging for things to be okay. There was no doubt in your mind, if Tsukishima was in the room with Yamaguchi, then he’d heard your cries.

“I’ll be better…” you whimpered, after far too long, “I’ll be nice. A-and… I won’t make fun of his glasses. Or dinosaurs. Please… please, Yamaguchi, please tell him to come home!” You cried out, unsure if you even managed to breathe.

He was silent on the line. You couldn’t take it. The silence, you wanted the noise. You’d prefer the arguing over this.

“I’m sorry…” Yamaguchi said weakly, and you knew how much it was hurting him to say this.

He hung up the phone and you were left as a shell of yourself.

And yet, your life must go on. So, for two months, you pushed your problems to the side and kept dredging forward in the hope that the answer to your problems was in one of these articles. Hoping that your co-worker would tell you some shitty anecdote that would distract you for just a little while.

Yo couldn’t look at your apartment anymore, not as little pieces of him were still littered everywhere.

Only, one day, you came home and he wasn’t anywhere. You didn’t notice it, not at first, but then you saw his mug from your museum visit in his third year of high school wasn’t next to your matching one. And then neither were his books on the shelf in your living room, or under the coffee table. His clothes gone from the closet. Every inch. Every detail. Every bit of him you had left had disappeared in the span of one work day.

And you were left with nothing.

With as much energy as you could muster, you turned and ran in the general direction of Yamaguchi’s house (which was hopeless, considering you had the directional capability of a broken compass and the stamina of a dead horse). You really were hopeless as you dialed his number, ignoring the way the moon taunted you in the sky.

He answered, for whatever reason, and you let out a breath. “What is it?” His tone was even, but something told you he was barely holding it together.

“Is this it?” Was all you could say. Head dizzy as you looked for Yamaguchi’s house - which you just knew was somewhere around here.

“It’s been it for a long time.” He really sounded robotic, like he was reading from a script.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Your voice broke as you ran, ignoring the splintering pain in the balls of your feet, “you thought making Yamaguchi say you needed a break, and then disappearing for two months, and then only reappearing to take your things back was the answer?” You cried out.

“You know-” his voice cracked and he stopped speaking. God, it hurt you so much.

“I never wanted this.” Tears were pouring down your cheeks.

“You think I did?”

“No-”

“I tried, Y/N, I tried so hard. But you would never listen to me!”

“I tried too, Kei!” You tried not to yell, and you hoped that it worked.

Some miracle brought you to Yamaguchi’s door, the one you only recognized because of the little frog statue on the windowsill. You pressed the doorbell, hoping for the best.

“I tried because I loved you. And I waited for you, I waited and hoped you’d come back. I-” you ran your hands through your hair once again. “I know we aren’t the best, that something is always wrong, but we can work on this. We can… fuck, I don’t know. You were the smart one…” he let out a low chuckle laced with pain. “But we can work something out, can’t we?”

There was a pause, and Yamaguchi opened the door, shocked to see you. Your breath hitched but neither of you spoke.

“I… I can’t do this anymore…” he admitted, and you felt your heart shatter. “Y/N, this is it…”

You could see Tsukishima pacing in the living room just down the hall, and you know Yamaguchi knows you’ve seen him. His phone pulled away from his face, finger shaking over that familiar red button.

“Please don’t say goodbye…” you called out.

--------

General Taglist:

@pies-writes-and-more​ @satan-ruler-of-hells @dekuspet @samkysnks @tobi-momo @kaleidoscopekai @elektrosonix @realcube @darkvadeeer

If you want to be added to the taglist, send a DM or an ask :D

[writingtoforgetreality]

Blind (Sam Wilson x Reader)

[Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: You had to attend one of Sharon’s parties in Madripoor. Which left you no choice but to wear one of her dresses. The one she suggested for you made you incredibly uncomfortable. After all, you were not really happy with the way you looked.

Words: 2,681

Warnings: language, angst, fluff, insecurities, self-esteem issues, struggles with body image, if one of these warnings trigger you please DO NOT read!, take care of yourself <3 you are so damn beautiful!, TFATWS spoilers, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated! ❤

“(Y/N)? Can you come over real quick?” you heard Sharon yell from the other room. Following her voice, you entered her bedroom where she was waiting for you.

“What’d you need?” your head tilted to one side. The others were getting ready for the party & you still hoped you could somehow avoid your attendance. Being surrounded by tons of drunk people was not necessarily your favorite activity.

“Found a dress for you.” she pointed to her closet where a beautiful gown was hung up. The colors were not too bright, subtle enough to blend in but still stand out. It was short enough to gain others’ attention but not too short to be mistaken for a cheap chick. Long story shot: it was gorgeous. And that was where the problem began. While the dress itself looked fantastic, you knew that you would not live up to it.

“No.” was all you said. Sharon’s eyebrows perked up.

“No? What do you mean “No.”? You don’t like it?” she was confused because she could imagine you looking flawless while wearing this dress. Yes, she was aware that you were not the biggest fan of getting all dolled up. But then again, the few times she had seen you do that, you were owning everything & anything.

“It’s pretty.” you smiled a little. “Just, not my cup of tea, I guess.” you shrugged, trying to hide the fact that you were lying to her face right now.

“Bullshit.” she scoffed. “I chose this one because I knew you’d love it. I know you better than that, (Y/N).” she eyed you up & down. Sighing loudly, you took a seat on her bed & put your head in your hands in frustration.

“Do I have to attend?” you muttered, silently hoping she would let you ditch the party.

“Please tell me you’re not being serious…” Sharon crossed her arms over her chest, body facing yours as you still somewhat hid yourself.

“What’d you need me for anyway?” you threw your hands up in confusion. “Like, you got Bucky, Zemo. Hell, you got Sam. You won’t need me.”

“Hmm.” she hummed as she observed you more closely now.

“What now?” you questioned exaggeratedly. Standing up, you approached the dress & brushed one of your hands over the material gently.

“I see where the shoe pinches.” Sharon stated & you turned around, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah? Where? ‘Cause I don’t know myself.” you bickered. Why could she not just cut to the chase?

“This is about Sam, isn’t it?” she asked casually & you almost choked on your own spit. Coughing to cover it up, you straightened your back to regain your composure.

“What has a stupid dress to do with Sam?” a dumbfounded expression made its way onto your face. Sharon shook her head & chuckled at your obliviousness.

“You still haven’t told him, huh?” her eyes locked with yours & you hated how your heart skipped a beat just because she called you out on that.

“Haven’t told him what?” you decided to play dumb for a while longer. Sharon rolled her eyes at you & sighed out loudly.

“That you’re in love with him.” she made it sound like a straight up fact. Your eyes focused on your shoes, not being able to face the woman in front of you any longer.

“Love is a pretty strong word.” you chuckled awkwardly. “Besides, a minute ago we were talking about the dress you picked out for me.”

“So you’ll wear the dress?” she smirked at you enthusiastically.

“Really? Did you just say that to get me to agree on that?” your finger pointed to the robe. The only response you got was a simple shrug. Sharon then turned around & left you alone. Alright, message received. You had to start fixing up your appearance. Though you were not sure if your efforts were even worth it. No matter what, you were sure you would feel insecure the moment you put on that dress.

When the struggles with your body started? Well, you could not exactly remember a time when it was not there. Maybe it was because you had always been surrounded by people much prettier than you. More popular than you. More liked than you. Only when you became a part of the Avengers did those feelings disappear a little. As a superhero, nobody cared about your look as long as your abilities were good enough to save the world. Your team did not know about any of this, of course. After all, it was your own mind who played tricks on you. No one but yourself could be blamed. So when you looked in the mirror & saw yourself wearing that beautiful dress? It was not beautiful anymore. Not on you. Not when you were the one who showed it to the world. Or to the people in Madripoor. You knew you should not care about other people’s opinions. But you were your own worst enemy. And your mind told you the exact same things that the others thought. The only thing you noticed was how wrong it all looked. How your body was not good enough. Not for yourself & not for anyone else. And definitely not for Sam. Not that you were into him or anything. Even if you were, he was literally the most handsome man you had ever laid eyes on. He could have anyone. So why would he settle for someone like you? He deserved so, so much more. So much better.

“(Y/N)?” someone’s knocking brought you back to reality. “Can I come in? It’s Sam.” oh no. Would he laugh at you when he saw you like that? Possibly.

“Um…Just-Just a second.” you yelled & searched through Sharon’s closet in hopes to find some sort of coat to cover yourself up as much as possible. Jogging over to the door, you shakingly raised a hand to the doorknob, twisted it to one side, & opened it with a tiny creak. Peeking out, you found Sam in a black turtleneck. And damn, he was hot. Unfortunately, you were not successful in finding a jacket so you were left in the dress only. Hence why you only opened the door a crack.

“You gonna let me in or…?” Sam teased, a smirk playing on his lips.

“S-Sure, sorry.” pushing the door further open, you turned around right away, too scared to watch his reaction.

“You look gorgeous.” his comment made you stop in your tracks. Sure he was lying. It was simply something you said to co-workers when missions like that were on the agenda. Spinning around, your eyes met his, the smirk replaced by a sheepish smile. Almost like he was uncomfortable talking to you. Of course he was. After all, he just lied to you about your look. But it was nothing new. You were used to it by now. Shaking off the bad thoughts internally, you coughed quickly & continued your conversation.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Wilson.” you winked & were surprised by how well you actually handled this situation.

“Sharon said she picked out a dress for you. Said you weren’t really feelin’ it.” he stated & you raised your eyebrows. God, Sharon could be a pain in the ass sometimes.

“Uh-huh.” you hummed, hoping Sam would drop this topic. But he did not.

“I’d say you slay it.” he came a little closer but stopped when he noticed you taking a step back.

“You’d be the only one.” you mumbled to yourself. It was too quiet for him to understand you which was why he spoke up again.

“What was that?” one of his eyebrows raised but you brushed him off with a wave of your hand.

“Nothing…” you said monotonously. Clearing your throat, you directed the conversation to the upcoming party. “You guys ready?”

“Um.” Sam shot you a curious look but you ignored it. “Yeah, we can head there now.”

“Good, I’ll come in a second.” your back faced him.

“You okay?” something was off about your behavior & Sam could not tell what it was. It was uncommon to see you so shy & uncertain. Usually, whenever you were on missions, you were a badass, not letting anyone tell you what to do. Now, though? It was like a different person was standing in front of him. Someone who was incredibly uncomfortable. Trembling hands you desperately tried to hide by hugging yourself. Failing to keep eye contact. Voice cracking when you talked to him. Something was wrong. And he knew he should let you be for now. Seemed like you needed time to yourself. So he exited the room without another word.

Loud music, people shamelessly grinding on each other without a care in this world. Alcohol, you figured. Alcohol did that to people. Sharon was next to you, in a corner where nobody else decided to head off to. After all, the dancefloor was the main attraction. Your insecurities were acting up. Constantly pulling down your dress to avoid showing too much of your thighs. Sharon noticed but did not comment on it. Your arms were crossed over your chest, hiding your upper body inside the gown. Whatever you were doing, you wanted to hide. Unfortunately, a coat did not go well with your outfit. So that left you with basically no material to cover up. The woman next to you excused herself when she detected a familiar person in the crowd. Nodding at her, you took the chance & made it out of the party only a second later. Heading outside where the cool breeze grounded you a bit. You hated yourself so much right now. You hated your body. You hated your dress. You hated Sharon for choosing an outfit for you. You hated the loud voices in your head that told you that you were not good enough. Not pretty enough. Not lovable. Your appearance was by no means pleasing. You knew that. And this stupid dress underlined every insecurity you had.

A coat was put over your shoulders & you could not help but flinch.

“You’re shaking.” it was Sam who found you out here. Immediately, you calmed down when you noticed that it was only him. The comfort of his jacket brought you warmth. And it gave you an opportunity to hide more of your skin. Win-win situation. Leaning against the cold brick wall, Sam joined you a moment later. Your face did not meet his, though. Wilson would notice something being wrong with you. He knew you too well.

“I’ll head back inside in a minute.” you assured him but he had none of it.

“You’re gonna tell me what’s wrong now?” Sam’s head turned in your direction but you kept your gaze straight forward.

“I’m fine.” it came our harsher than you meant. Closing your eyes, you sighed because Sam did not deserve your rudeness at all.

“Sure thing. And I enjoyed Smiling Tiger’s favorite drink.” he replied sarcastically & managed to lift the corners of your mouth a little. “Talk to me.”

“I’m just being stupid.” shaking your head, you scoffed at yourself. Usually, you were better at hiding such things.

“It ain’t stupid if it bothers you that much.” Sam pointed out. Your head turned to face him & you had a hard time finding the right words.

“Just…” your hands gestured wildly but ended up at the hem of the material hanging by your thighs.

“The dress?” he asked & you nodded. “What about it?”

“Ugh.” you threw your head back. “See, I’m being stupid.” his hand grabbed your wrist gently when you wanted to head back inside.

“No, wait.” his voice was softer than before. “What’s up with the dress? It looks great to me.”

“It is. Great, I mean. Just not on me.” your rambling could not be stopped & before you knew it, you were spilling the beans to Sam. He was taken aback by your declaration.

“Wait…Is this the problem here?” he gestured to your figure & it took everything in you not to break eye contact. “(Y/N), you’re absolutely stunning in that dress.” there was sincerity behind his words but you could not hear it right now. Hugging his jacket a little closer, you hoped Sam would stop staring at your body so intensely.

“Could you stop? Please.” he almost did not hear it but the night in Madripoor was calm. All that could be heard was the muffled beat from the party.

“Who the hell made you think like that?” Sam started growing angry. Not at you but at whoever managed to plant these thoughts into your head. Shrugging, you averted your gaze from him.

“I mean…it’s kinda obvious, isn’t it? Look at all those beautiful people, Sam. I could never compare to them. Never. My body…i-it looks awful, I know that. That’s exactly why I never wear shit like that.” you pointed to your dress, scoffing lowly. “I wish I didn’t look like that. I wish I-“ Sam, being done with whatever you were saying, interrupted you.

“Listen, this is what you’re not gonna do.” he stopped briefly to gain your attention. Only when you looked at him again did he continue. “I don’t know why you see yourself in such a bad light. I don’t know because to me, you’re the most beautiful woman in this damn universe. And it hurts when you talk so bad about yourself. This…” he stepped closer, resting both of his hands on your waist, squeezing lightly. “This is perfect. There’s nothing wrong with you or your body. What can I do to help you see yourself the way I see you?” the last words were whispered. Your eyes widened at Sam’s confession. Sure he was drunk. Why would he tell you all of that?

“Stop that.” you tried pulling away from him but he would not let you. No, he only hugged you closer to his body so your chests were pressing against each other. “Sam, I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” he wasted no time with his response. “When I saw you earlier today in that dress? Damn, I didn’t even know what to say.” he chuckled to himself at the memory & you could not hide the small smile spreading on your face. That was the point where he knew he had you. “But, you know, duties. Couldn’t skip this party. But I wouldn’t have minded skipping it.” Sam winked at you.

“I don’t know what to say. I-I don’t know if I can trust you. Not when it comes to this.” you were completely vulnerable in front of him. Sam then realized that words were not going to change your way of thinking. And he could not change your way of thinking in one night. What he could do, though, was making you feel gorgeous. With simple actions, compliments, looks. And he made it his job to succeed with all of that. His hands came up to cup your cheeks, thumbs brushing over your soft skin delicately. He was slow with his movements, giving you enough time to lean back if you did not want this. But you wanted this. And the look in your eyes was enough confirmation for him to press his lips against your own. The kiss was not what you expected it to be. You always thought that the first kiss you two shared would be passionate or heated. But this one? This one was filled with so much gentleness, so much emotion, so much admiration that had you weak at the knees. Sam smiled into the kiss when he realized you melting into his touch. To him, you really were someone special. To him, you were the only person he focused on in a crowd. You were it for him. Now, he just had to convince you that he was the one for you, too. But it was a challenge he gladly accepted. If it meant that he got to have you, he would do anything.

Published (04/18/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @bibliophilewednesday, @wanniiieeee (thanks for your support <3)

[jay-wells-writes]

Training (Giles x plus size reader)

Oh my Dear Boudoir Anon, it took some time but I have something for you! and let me tell you that I hate it lmao. Like I love how the end went, but I am unsure about the beginning. BUT I am my worst critic right? Regardless I hope that you enjoy the story hun. 

Gif taken from internet, credit to the maker

It was hard to believe that in the year you moved to Sunnydale you made friends with a group of college students that fought monsters. Of course you made a mistake and hadn’t taken the warning your roommates had told you, about not going out at night. So your first night in a new town and you almost became vampire food. Naturally after being saved you became friends with the group of students known as the Scooby Gang. 

You knew nothing of fighting or monsters so you mainly stayed back at the Magic shop and did research for the group and ran the shop when Giles went out with them. Even if you couldn’t be a great fighter like Buffy, you still asked to be trained and Buffy gave that job to Giles. You should have known she would give the job to Giles, but when you learned it was him you quickly made excuses not to train. You couldn’t help but feel like it would be a waste of his time. And it didn't take Giles long to corner you and find out what the problem was.

"I just don't want to waste your time."

"I do not see me making sure you are safe as a waste of my time."

"Giles, take a look at me and then at the group. When you figure it out then come find me."

You hadn't even turned around before Giles was commenting back.

"How does your weight have anything to do with this?"

"It didn't dawn when I first asked that it would take years to train me. I am so out of shape."

Suddenly Giles was walking you backwards as he removed his glasses to clean them. A move you learned he does when he is frustrated or annoyed. 

"Your size has nothing to do with this, we start off small. We work you towards a goal then make another. Right now I would be happy if you just knew how to shoot a crossbow or any other type of weapon." 

Nodding your head once you took a deep breath as you looked into his eyes.

"Alright Giles. Let's do this."

~~

True to his word Giles started you off on weapons, while also teaching you simple stretches to help loosen your muscles. After about three months, to your surprise, you had become very skilled with a bow. You couldn’t help but be slightly disappointed that through all the training you hadn’t lost much weight. But soon you and the others started to notice that parts of your body were becoming firmer. And naturally you started to gain more confidence.

Coming through the back of the shop you looked around and saw that you were alone. Thinking that Giles was in the front you set down your things and removed your jacket so that you could start on your stretches. Getting lost in your thoughts you realized you had gone through your whole warm up routine and Giles still hadn’t showed up. Grabbing a bottle of water you headed to the front to see what was going on. A quick look around the shop showed that he wasn’t busy and when you turned to the right you saw him sitting at a table with his head in the books. You knew that Giles wasn’t someone you wanted to sneak up on, so as you made your way to him you made sure to speak loudly.

“A new big bad show up that I didn’t know about?”

Turning quickly in his seat Giles turned to look at you. Just like he did anytime he was off on time Giles looked at his watch before he took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes.

"No. No new big and bad. I just got a new shipment of books in and I got caught up on reading."

Leaning against the table next to him you tried to look at the title but Giles was quick to cover it. Because you had been used to rough housing with Xander you automatically reach across him to grab the book. Not even thinking about it as you reached across him, your chest ended up in his face. It didn't dawn on you at first but when you felt Giles breath on your chest you remembered that your workout outfit had changed from baggy clothes to sweatpants and a form fitting tank top. That gave Giles a birds eye view down your shirt. 

Trying not to pull more attention to an already embarrassing situation you slowly pulled back to your original position, and acted as Giles face wasn't just in your chest.

"Why are you hiding the title Giles?"

Standing up and gathering the book and a couple other things Giles began to walk towards the back as he stuttered slightly over his words.

"The book is… well it's about…. You know it really isn't that important. "

"Well we both know that's a lie. If it wasn't you wouldn't have hidden it's cover." Stopping suddenly you couldn't help but place your hands on your hips. "Giles! Are you reading porn?"

Spinning around quickly Giles gave you a brief fish out of water expression before he answered. 

"I beg your pardon! I would not read porn at the shop! NOT that, that's what it is." 

Deciding to pick on him some more you couldn't help but smile as you walked towards him.

"You were so reading porn. Just count yourself lucky it was me that found you and not someone like Xander."

Nodding his head in agreement you heard Giles mumble something about "Never hearing the end of it." Before he snapped back to the present and to you. "The book isn't about porn, but fae magic. Of course I should have known there would have been a descriptive chapter on the not so innocent parts of fae's."

"Ohh does it have pictures?"

"No it doesn't have pictures! I really don't feel we need to be having this conversation."

"Why?"

"Well because you are a young adult and I am your senior."

"Keyword there Giles, adult. I may be younger than you but I am an adult."

If you hadn't been looking at Giles face you would have missed the way his eyes shot down to your chest before quickly looking back up. Even though you pretended not to notice you could help but feel your heart racing at the look Giles had given you. Taking his glasses off, Giles rubbed his eyes and muttered something that sounded like "Yes, how could I forget." Before you could ask him to clarify what he had said Giles was holding his hand, that held his glasses out, as he spoke louder.

"Yes well. Shall we start your training?"

Training felt different today, at first you tried to chalk it up to finally learning some basic defense moves. That the tension was because of you both being in close proximity, but after about 20 minutes you began to realize it was because of what had happened earlier. Until today you never thought about Giles in any way, other than a teacher. Yet you couldn't help but realize how firm his body was for a man his age, how his voice sounded as he spoke softly into your ear, or how he smelled like the incense he sold at the shop. You weren't given any time to really think about it though because teaching weapons was different then hand to hand and this Giles was a bit stricter and he didn't give breaks as often as weapons training. Luckily you got a small break when Giles was called to the front of the store.

Sitting down on the mat you worked on stretching as you watched Giles walking away. You knew the tension was because of earlier and your mind was telling you to let it go. That it was a fluke but your body was telling you something completely different. It has been a while since anyone has shown interest in you. And even though what happened at the table was an accident, his second look and the comment he had made hadn’t been. Age was never an issue for you, in fact you actually liked your men older and you told yourself when you first met Giles that you wouldn't mind a night with him. The question was though, was there anything there or were you just imagining there was? 

By the time Giles had gotten back you figured out that you were going to play a little and see what happens. That if he hadn't been interested he wouldn't have taken a second look. 

"Sorry about that, sometimes I question myself on having Anya helping out."

Chuckling you stood up as Giles made his way back to the middle of the room.

"I have no answer and even if I did I would plead the fifth."

Smiling Giles moved so that he stood behind you. Standing closer he lowered his voice as he moved to place you in the hold you had been working on before being called.

"If you had an answer and pleaded the fifth I have ways on getting it from you."

That sentence alone almost had you wondering if Giles had put a spell on you to read your mind. And he almost caused you to slip up and fall when he tried to take you down. Instead you planted your feet and shifted the way he had told you. Grabbing his arm you stood behind him and twisted it upwards. 

"You can't get nothing if I am the one that's got a hold on you."

Suddenly in what felt like a second Giles had himself out of the hold and was once again standing behind you. With both of your hands pinned in one of his behind your back while his other arm was around your neck.

"Never assume to have the upper hand. Anytime you do that you end up in a position you can't get out of."

"I don't know. I think I can get out of this."

If you were asked about it later you would blame it on his quick breathing in your ear, or how your bodies were even closer together. But having guts, you never had before, you turned your hand slightly and placed an open balm on Giles upper thigh. You could feel him jump a bit, but he didn't release his hold. Instead of moving your hand any more you pushed your ass into Giles as your nails dug slightly into his thigh. You could feel his breath change as he brought his face closer to yours. 

"I am not sure this is a good way to get out of a hold."

Tilting your head back you couldn't help but close your eyes.

"Oh I wouldn't try this with just anyone."

You couldn’t help but shiver when Gile's voice turned slightly darker in tone.

"I should hope not. But please, tell me what you would do if someone was you in this type of hold."

Releasing your hands Giles brought his arm around your waist while he brought the arm around your neck back so that his hand now rested on your neck. 

"Who's to say I would want to get out of this hold?"

Just as you started to move your hand that was still on his thigh. Giles let out the breath he had been holding before pushing into you with his upper body. In a couple of steps he had you at the wall. Using the hand on your hip he turned you around and pressed you into the wall. Using the hand he had around your neck he tilted your head and brought his face towards yours.

"I am very close to casting a spell to see who you really are."

Resting your hands on his chest you couldn't help but run them up and down.

"I will submit to any spell you want. Just to prove I am not under any spell."

"Then what game are you playing."

"No games. Just after earlier I had to see if I was imagining things."

"You mean when you put your chest into my face?"

Laughing you shook your head as you brought one hand down to his waist.

"No. Not then. That was an accident. I am talking about when you took that second look. If you hadn't done that I would have acted like nothing happened."

Almost on que Giles looked down at the top of your breast, while his fingers danced across the top of them.

"I guess having them so close to my face made me realize how beautiful they were and I couldn't help but look again."

For some reason your insecurities came pushing forward and you said the first thing that came to mind.

"There is nothing beautiful on me."

Almost instantly the hand around your neck tightened and Giles pushed his body into yours.

"You are NEVER to say anything like that again. Do you hear? Never again."

Reaching up you lightly touched his hand as you spoke quietly.

"Giles, I am only saying things that have been said to me. And it's okay, it's the facts of life."

You didn't think Giles could get any closer but he did. Slipping a leg between yours he made sure he had your full attention. 

"Fools, the whole lot of them. You are beautiful y/n. Not just your breast, but all of you. And if I am being completely honest, I was looking at you way before today. Today is just the first time I am admitting it to myself."

You knew there was no fighting Giles on this so you just smiled as you ran your fingers down his cheek. 

"So what do we do now?"

Grinning down at you Giles quickly moved you so that you were pressed into his back once again. While his breath tickled your ear.

"Right now we are doing nothing. You on the other hand, need to get out of this hold. And if you can do it without any tricks……. Let's just say I have some ideas on rewards."

[coolcattime]

Bound [Mianite Oneshot]

Characters: Captain Capsize, Lady Ianite, Lord Mianite, Lord Dianite

Relationships: Captain Capsize/Lady Ianite

Addition Tags: Near Character Death, Happy Endings

A03 Link

Capsize

I struggle against the arms of the men, attempting to get them to let me go despite how I’ve already had my wrists and ankles bound. I know it’s pointless, that these thugs have the upper hand and will just beat me more if I keep resisting, but I can’t just let them do what they want. If I give them a reason, they won’t stop until I’m dead. I need to get someone’s attention to get me out of this situation or get the rope off my ankles without them noticing.

The rain covers my yells as I’m dragged through the streets, at least I hope that’s why no one seems to hear my yells to help. It isn’t that late, there should still be people on the streets. Even if the rain has made most people retreat inside, there should still be guards. Yet there’s no sign of anyone, but the thugs dragging me along. I don’t want to believe it’s anything more than a terribly timed coincidence, but that doesn’t stop my thoughts from spiralling to terrible places.

As we enter a city square, I’m thrown to the ground at the foot of a statue. I attempt to contort my body to not hit my face on the ground, landing painfully on my shoulder and still grazing my cheek on the paved stone beneath me. I hear the thugs laughing as I attempt to shift from the position on the ground, but my tied-up limbs leave me unable to do anything. I do my best to move, even if just to not by laying on the ground, but as I manage to pull myself into a kneeling position, I’m kicked back down. More of my body makes contact with the ground this time. I want to ask why they’re doing this, but I refuse to let them see me as weak, to do anything that could be seen as begging.

“Come on, boys. Quit playing and string her up on the statue,” A voice and my blood runs cold. He can’t be serious. I try to kick out of their grasp as I’m hoisted up, though with my currently situation that’s little better than flailing. The movement does allow me a good look at the statue, one of Lord Mianite. I grin my teeth, of course I’m being tied to a statue of my least favourite god. I watch one of the thugs climb the statue and motion for me to be brought up. They spin me around, facing me anyway from the statue and towards the smug bastard as he looks far too happy with himself. My arms are tugged painfully above my head, the rope holding my wrist together being rested on the neck of the statue so my feet can barely touch the plinth it rests on, slipping and unable to gain grip as I desperately try to have some sort of stability. “You did a good job. Here I was thinking we might need to use her brother, but it’s so nice to see the bitch herself up there.”

“You don’t need to talk about me like I’m not here,” I spit, doing my best to ignore the idea of him going anywhere near my brother. Of course, it would be Silvertooth, a continuous annoyance in my life. Does he actually want to kill me this time? This is far beyond anything he’s done before. What does he think he’ll gain from this? I won’t be convinced to give him anything, so unless he’s doing this for pure hatred, he doesn’t stand to gain anything. “And let me down now. I won’t even tell anyone you tried this.”

“Different idea, I leave you here and hope you freeze to death by morning,” He says, his face a twisted sneer. Unfortunately, his plan might actually work. They ripped my coat off me when they jumped me, and even in the short amount of time I’ve been out here, the rain has soaked through my other clothes. If I’m left here and no one finds me until morning, even if I don’t die, I’m not going to be in good shape. My mind starts racing for a solution. I can’t die here. I can’t die tied to a statue, especially not because of Silvertooth. “Maybe try praying to your girlfriend, I’m sure she’ll come and save you. Oh wait, all the gods are busy tonight aren’t they.”

“How the fuck do you know about that?” I demand, ignoring the laughs of the thugs, looking only at Silvertooth. No one is meant to know, I haven’t even told Red, my own brother, and yet this completely and utter… how does he know about me and Lady Ianite? He smirks at me. I attempt to contort my body to kick him, as I’m sure he’s close enough, but I only succeed in hurting my wrists and losing what little balance I had gained. As I desperately attempt to regain my footing, they laugh more. Out of his pocket, Silvertooth pulls a pendant that I instantly recognise and can only feel disgusted that he has. “You robbed me.”

“Such harsh words, I’m about to give it back,” He says, almost mockingly as he climbs the statue to place the pendant around my neck. He jumps off to get quickly out of the range where I could retaliate against him. The thugs begin pining a banner under some stones at the foot of the statue. Though upside-down to me, I can still read what it says clear: A SACRIFICE FOR THE ONE TRUE GOD.

“What are you playing at? You’re godless. There’s no sacrifice, you just want rid of me,” I don’t understand the game he’s playing. He could have killed me in some alley, having little risk of me surviving or it being connected to him, but instead he does this. He doesn’t even care about the gods. He’s bragged about his godless status before. He’d never even consider the idea of pretending so why would he do so now?

“Well, the gods are making a peace treaty, finalized tonight as I’m sure you know. I have some very strong reasons to want that to not happen,” He says, my blood running cold. Does he actually want the gods to be at war? So what? So, his smuggling profits stay high? He’d ruin it for everyone just for his profits. “And I imagine Lady Ianite seeing someone so precious to her sacrificed to one of her brothers might just sour the whole endeavour. Getting rid of you is a very welcome bonus, though. Well, enjoy your night. I’ve bribed the guards that were meant to patrol here tonight so no one is going to be around to help you. Have fun surviving until morning.”

“Get back here you scurvy—” I stop myself from yelling after him. He won’t come back, and I won’t allow myself to pathetically beg him. I move my wrists, disappointed to not find any slack in the bindings. If I was taller, I might be able to pull my hands over the head of the statue to free myself, but I’ve barely got my feet on the ground as it is. If I try, I’ll just end up injuring myself. With the rain, attempting to climb the statue behind me will be impossible, even if my ankles weren’t bound. The only way I’m getting down is with help. “Is anyone out there? I need help!”

I yell out into the darkness, the sound of the rain never more distressing. There has to be someone. Even if there’s no guards, someone has to be out there. I feel tears sting my cheeks, only being able to tell them apart from the rain hitting me from the still warmth they bring. I know it’s unlikely anyone hears me, but I can’t bring myself to give up. I am Captain Capsize. I can’t die strung up on a statue. If I die early, it was at least meant to be an impressive death. I’d laugh at my luck if this wouldn’t have such terrible consequences for the rest of the world.

So instead, I keep yelling. I’ll yell with my last breath if I have to. I won’t die here!

* * *

How many hours have I been here? The sun isn’t up yet so I can safely say less than six, but that doesn’t mean much. My entire body feels numb. The rain never stopped, it has left my clothes clinging to my skin and my hair plastered to my face. I lost feeling in my hands at some point, only the brief pain of the ropes rubbing against my skin reminding me they still exist.

The most I feel at all other than cold is the rawness in my throat. No matter how much I yelled, no one came. I even called out to her, hoping she would hear me even though I know that isn’t how it works. I wonder how much more I can yell before my voice just breaks. With the word turning blurry, I doubt I’ll get to find out. Maybe I should just go to sleep. Not like I can do much else.

“Come on! We’re meant to be celebrating!” I hear a voice yell from somewhere. A voice… A person! I can barely focus, but this is what I need. I can’t stay silent when what I need is actually here.

“H- Help me! Please! Please, help me!” I can’t tell how loud I’m being. My voice is cracking, and the words hurt my throat, but I force them out. I need them to have heard me. My heart races, I’m sure I hear them coming closer, but maybe I just want that to be true. Four blurry figures enter the square. Do they see me? They come closer, though they still just look blurry. I try to focus on them, to make out any details, but that just leaves me dizzy. “Please… help…”

“Capsize?! Gods, what happened--? Guys! Help me cut her down!” The voices come in and out, where I can’t tell if it’s just one person speaking or many. The words being heard, but not sticking in my mind. I know that I recognise someone who’s speaking, but I also have no idea who they might be. I see some of them moving, though I can’t watch them as my eyes can barely keep themselves open. The last thing I feel before my eyes can’t open anymore, is my body falling to the ground.

* * *

Lady Ianite

“Well, even if this doesn’t last long, I’m sure it’ll be interesting,” Dianite says with a smirk. It isn’t the reason I’d like for him to be agreeing to a peace treaty, but at least he’s agreed. I don’t need to worry about the potential fallout of this falling apart at the last minute.

He summons a pen, doing so with his usual over the top flourish. I hear Mianite sigh deeply as I internally beg him not to do this. He can’t start an argument now. Thankfully Dianite doesn’t react, walking over to the paper, and signing his name in crimson ink. I feel my smile growing. It actually happened, they actually agreed to peace. I don’t need to worry about them killing each other, or me, or any of my followers. I never thought something so simply could be such a relief.

“I would say we should go and tell our champions the news, but I believe they’ve already started celebrating,” Mianite says with an amused tone I rarely hear him use. I’m not surprised the celebration started before the good news, they all seemed happy to see each other. Jordan wouldn’t stop smiling when he learnt that the other champions would be here. Beyond all their duties and titles, they’re just friends. Well, they won’t need to worry about any worse case scenarios anymore because—

“My Lord! Lady Ianite! Lord Dianite!” The doors burst open, Mianite’s champion Tucker standing in the doorway. He’s breathing heavily, soaked from the rain and he looks scared. Immediately Mianite steps forward and fear rushes through my mind. What’s happened? He wouldn’t interrupt us without good reason, without something terrible happening. “We found a woman tied to your statue, my Lord, apparently in a sacrifice. Jordan said her name is Capsize and—”

“Capsize?! Where is she? Is she— is she okay?” I stand up, panicking as I realise the thing that’s happened. There can’t have been a sacrifice, we would have noticed. She has to be okay. The champion looks at me, hesitating. I can feel my brothers��� eyes on me, but I don’t care. I need to know she’s okay, if this was random or because of her relationship to me.

“Jordan said he was taking her to your quarters—”

I teleport rather than listening more, something I’d normally feel guilty about, but I can’t wait around. Immediately upon arriving I hear commotion that I rush towards. Please be okay. I push through a curtain towards where the noise is coming from, my heart beating wildly as I get closer. I freeze when I finally see them, Jordan and the other champions with an unconscious Capsize. She’s still and completely soaked, though I know she’s still alive. I’d be able to sense now if she wasn’t. She has Jordan’s coat wrapped around her, though I wonder how much it can really be helping with the rest of her water-logged clothes still on her body. When I take a few more steps forward, Jordan notices my presence.

“My Lady! She’s—” I take her in my arms. She’s even colder than I expected, and completely unreactive unlike if she was merely sleeping. I’ll find who did this, I’ll end them. First, though, I need to make sure she’s okay, and that this hasn’t happened to anyone else.

“Go check the other statues, make sure no one else is in the same situation. Jordan, see if you can find her brother,” They all nod, quickly leaving after I give my orders. I bring Capsize into my bedroom, laying her down on a plush rug next to the currently unlit fireplace. I click the button in the brick work to light it, watching the purple flames light and begin to dance. Hopefully it warms as quickly as it lights. I turn back to her, casting my magic to dry her since it’s quicker than the alternative and won’t leave her needlessly exposed. Without the water covering her, she almost looks peaceful. Though there’s still the ropes tied to her wrists and ankles, sickening me as I think about what was done to her. With shaking hands, I cut them away, ignoring how cold her skin is as I toss the remains aside.

So, what do I do now? I sit next to her, running a hand through her hair as I consider that question. I could move her to the bed, but she’s had objections to that in the past. I’ve never quite been sure as to why as I certainly don’t need to use it, but I won’t cross her boundaries. Maybe I could grab the blankets from the bed, in case Jordan’s coat isn’t providing her enough warmth. I don’t want to leave her side though. Perhaps that’s selfish, or a result of my guilt of not sensing the danger she was in. I want to be with her when she wakes. I don’t want her to be alone.

I ignore noises I hear outside the doors, knowing it’ll just be my brothers. I’m sure they’ll have figured out my relationship with Capsize, or at the very least be suspicious of it, which is something I didn’t really want but I can sort that out later. I just want to focus on her right now. This day was supposed to be a celebration, a weight off my mind, but how can it be now?

She stirs a tiny bit, and I pull her close. She quietly groans, her eyes flickering open. When she realises her surroundings, she snaps up as I quickly try to soothe her.

“Ianite,” She whispers, her head resting on my shoulders. I hold back my tears. I need to remain strong for her. So, we remain in this position, shielding her in an embrace. I don’t know who did this to her, I’ll find that out when she’s had some time to recover. Whether this was done because of her relationship to me, or just because she’s her, or just randomly, I’ll make sure the ones who did this don’t go unpunished.

[hit-me-with-a-ladle]

Ch.5 of Creepepastas x fem!reader

A/N: This is ch5 of a long-running series. The next chapter is going to dive deeper into other characters so I hope you'll like them. The chapter is very long so enjoy<3

TW: blood, organs injuries.

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

Minutes felt like hours, hours felt like days, and by the end of the excruciating training, the girl had travel back to the cabin covered in cuts and bruises barely able to stand. As for Jack, he was fine and dandy, not caring that she kept panting and groaning in pain while walking. Though, after tripping for the third time because her knees couldn't hold the weight of her barely moving body, Jack got considerably aggravated. "Can you hurry up," He spat, contempt undoubtedly evident from the way he was standing and continued on his way not even bothering to wait for her. She glared daggers at his back and slowly stood with the help of a nearby tree. Supporting herself on anything she could find in her surroundings, slowly but surely she was finally able to walk to the cabin.

Before entering enter. She noticed Jack had already arrived and was reading. Rage tainted the girl's mind, ' That scum-bag, how could he not wait for me?' Storming in with a limp she didn't even look in his direction, instead, immediately going to the stairs to go to her room. But as she was about to leave, Jack spoke up out of nowhere. "There's a medkit in the bathroom, which is across the hall from your bedroom. You should stop the bleeding and take care of all the cuts," What he said made the girl even more hostile," Why do you even care?" She spoke sneeringly, not paying him any mind, carrying on her way. "Well, we will be training again in a few hours so you should fix everything up and get some rest." He stated again with a sigh and continue reading. The girl loudly forced out a breath in reasonable frustration while attempting to go to the bathroom, not carrying to answer.

Solace washed over her as she reached the final step of the long narrow wooden staircase, and slowly approached the bathroom door. Grabbing the circular handle and gently twisting it, she entered. It was a considerably small rectangle-shaped room although perfect for single-person use. Located inside by the far right corner was a small walk-in shower with sliding plastic doors that seemed to have a foggy design. Right next to it, a white basket meant for storing dirty clothes, and a boiler connected to the walk-in shower, and the was toilet positioned opposite the shower. Near it was the sink with cupboards above and a dirty mirror and next to the sink, a washer and a drier placed one on top of the other. There was also a long vertical mirror across the doors

Looking at the wall she noticed that bark brown marble tyles covered the lower half of the wall while the upper half was painted in a dull shade of white. Nearing the sink, she opened one of the cupboard doors that were lazily covered, in cheap grey paint. Glancing inside, she noticed the medkit Jack informed her about, it was covered in cobwebs and had dust all over it, slowly reaching within she grabbed it and instantly pulled it out. Causing all of the trinkets inside to vigorously rattle. Turning around and putting it down on the clothes basket, she looked at herself in the mirror. Suffice to say she was surprised that the coveralls she was wearing didn't have any tears, just a bit dirty.

Taking them off, she tossed them in the washer and turned it on. " So it'll only take ten minutes to wash, that good." She said to herself, relieved. Scowling, when she looked at her wounds. There was a rather large bruise on the lower part of her leg, though it wasn't as bad as she thought it would still get infected if she let it be. There were also many deep cuts sprawled all around her body. ' I should take care of this.'

Reaching for the kit and opening it up, she looked to see what exactly the red metal box contained. Inside were many items, most of them she could name. There were different sized band-aids and sterile gauze pads, adhesive tapes, elastic bandaids, antiseptic solution, and much more. She first grabbed the antiseptic solution and dabbed some on the gauze pads, slowly cleaning the deep cuts she had. And then after finishing she swiftly started bandaging up the wound she had on her leg.

Though feeling great pain, she still soldiered through and cleaned all of the injuries. After finishing, she grabbed the clothes in the washer and put them in the dryer. "Guess I should wait another 10 minutes. What should I do now?" Walking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her body she ran to her room.

Opening the door she noticed her old clothes were gone and one of the closet doors was slightly open, feeling a little uneasy she went to check it. She could feel her stomach turn the moment she opened the closet doors but was soon taken aback by the area of the same blue jumpsuits Jack gave her this morning. They were all the same size, odourless and finely ironed. Not bothering to question why and how they were there, she sighed in relief that she had something to wear. Instantly changed and limping to her bed to lay down for some rest.

Slamming her head in her pillow she looked up at the ceiling, 'What's happening? Is this just some sick dream?...No,...it can't be, if it was I should have woken up by now. But never the less, there has to be a way out and I'm going to find it. I just need to gain their trust first and work out my plan as time passes.' Reassuring herself, she fell into a slumber.

After a few hours, she woke up. Getting up in a tired daze she looked around the room confused but soon remember why she was there and let out a loud grunt of frustration. Slowly limping out of her room she went downstairs not bothering to see if Jack was still there. Peering into the kitchen she saw the silhouette of a hunched man leaning over the refrigerator. Uncertainty washed over her as she was not sure who that was but soon assumed it was Jack. Though, as she was about to enter she was stopped in her tracks as the hunched man tore himself away from the fridge giving the girl the chance to take a good look at him.

Her face turned pale when she did as she saw Jack's mask lifted to the half of his face revealing his hark-like teeth covered in some kind of tinted red liquid. She assumed he had put something back inside the fridge. The man had a crooked smile on his face as he slowly put his mask back down his face. ' How didn't I notice it earlier when I was eating? Was it even there? No, it couldn't have been I would've noticed. Right? Yeah, yeah I would've definitely noticed!' Her mind was in a panicked frenzy as she was zoning out while looking at the ground not noticing that Jack was approaching her until he spoke up. "You're able to walk I see?" He remarked sarcastically as he towered over her. She gulped, but her throat was dry so it felt like sandpaper was going down her throat walls.

"Yeah..." She murmured turning her head away from him, even though she couldn't see his face anymore she could still feel his eyes piercing into her soul as she entered the kitchen. Slowly approaching the fridge she tried to act unfazed. Couthesly opening its doors her stomach started spinning, though getting a better look she didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, all until she looked deeper inside. In the back, blocked by all the other food, there was a jar slathered in red liquid with some kind of bean-shaped meat, it almost resembled a kidney.

All of the worst possibilities passed her mind as her face turned pale and her mind went static. Jack seemed to notice and suddenly slammed the refrigerator doors shut as he stood in front of the girl. The sudden action made her look at him as she gulped. "What are you looking at?" He spoke up, crossing his arms, he seemed more amused than anything else as he looked down at her. "I was just getting something to eat." She quickly replied and backed away anxiously. "You sure? I mean you were looking in there for a while, did you see something you didn't enjoy." He darkly expressed as he approached, but she stood her ground, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of her withdrawal even if she was shit-scared.

"No...I should make myself something to eat now." Blanckly retorting she moves past him, in an attempt to get herself out of the uncomfortable situation she was in. Reaching the kitchen counter she avoided getting near the refrigerator at all costs as she searched the cabinets for something else to eat. That morning she noticed that all the food in the cabin was very nutritious, there was nothing that could be deemed unhealthy. Inside she could see some cereals and bars of what she assumed was granola, but also different varieties of pasta. Taking in a deep breath she took ahold of it and got ready to cook.

Placing the pot filled with water on the stove for it to boil she searched for salt. With every step she took Jacks eyes didn't leave the back of her head. He seemed intrigued by what she was doing almost as if he had never seen anything like it before. After a while, she was finally done and put all of the food on a plate. Glancing back she noticed that Jack had sat down on the table with his head resting on his right hand, looking at her. Carefully approaching the table, she sat across from him. Starting to eat, she didn't look at him, choosing to stare at her food instead.

"You have ten minutes to eat before we go back to training." He vocalized as he calmly waited for a response. "Ok." She muttered still not looking up at him. "I know you saw me eating. That's why you've been so quiet." His whole demeanour was calm as his words piercing her stomach like knives. Her eyes widened for a second as her face contorted in surprise. "Well, I didn't see anything so...it doesn't matter." She promptly addressed, ultimately peering up at him. "Oh c'mon now. Don't lie. I mean do you think that I didn't notice you gawking at me as I ate. That's rather rude don't you think?"

She kept her mouth shut as her gaze wandered around the room. At that moment Jack got up from his seat getting closer to the girl's direction, her body went tense. "Tell me, do you want to see what I eat? Arent you even the slightest bit curious." He mused as he inched closer and closer. She again refused to look at him so he took ahold of her face, making her. "Answer me." He demanded. Taking in a sharp breath she just said "No." Jack then straightened his back as he neared the fridge calmly opening it up and searching inside. After a while, he finally found what he was looking for and quickly pulled it out.

It was the red jar, Jack then placed it in front of her. Opening it up a foul stanched advanced through the room. Her face scrunched up and she felt as if she was going to throw up just by the smell itself. "Wanna give it a guess to what it is?" He asked as he got another plate putting it in front of the girl. He took the substance out of the jar, red dripping down his hand as he placed it on the plate. She froze as her eyes widened, she was sure of what it was. "It's...it's a kidney." She said squeezing her eyes shut, pushing the plate away.

Jack darkly chuckled, "Lucky guess." He said amused by her reaction. He was forbidden from physically hurting her but that didn't mean he couldn't have some fun. "Wanna try it?" He spoke as he grabbed the organ shoving it in her face taunting her with it. She shook her head trying to get up from her seat. "Oh well, too bad." Jack grabbed his mask and put it halfway up his face, his shark-like teeth were perfectly visible again, they were extremely sharp and had a silver tint to them. He took a big bite from the organ, a sickening ripping and mushing sound was heard from jack as he ate it. The girl watched in absolute horror and quickly got up and running to puke in the sink.

Jack could be heard laughing at her as he chewed. "Well get cleaned up, were going to train again in a bit." He spoke with delight as he put the kidney back in its place and in the fridge. She could hardly stand as she saw him walking out of the kitchen. Gaining her composure after a while she finally went to find him. The training was as gruelling as the last time and at the end of it, she was extremely tyred.

Going to her room she lied on the bed and eventually, she fell into another dreamless slumber.

[frostsinth]

Royal Flush - Pt. 6

Part 1|2|3|4|5 - MasterList - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art

Shit, it’s already part 6??!! Ok, so this update is REALLY long, but I assumed you guys wouldn’t mind. I hope you will enjoy the dynamics bewteen the characters I tried to play on here.

I’m already working on the next chapter, which will be a bit juicier. And there will probably be more art, since I love drawing these two, so be sure to keep an eye out for both!

If you like this story, check out my others on my MasterList above. Feel free to BuyMeACoffee while you are there. As always, drop me a ask/comment/reblog if you have any questions or thoughts! I always love to hear back from you guys.

“Well…” Damjan wheezed breathlessly, then hoisted himself up into a sitting position, “It seems you are in peak form today,” He looked up at me from where I had just laid him low, giving me a lopsided grin, “I’m guessing you and the King worked things out then, Your Highness?”

I offered him a hand sheepishly. “Apologies, General,” I replied as I hauled him back to his feet, which took the majority of my strength, “I hope I caused no injury nor insult.”

“Bah!” He grunted, releasing my hand and slapping his own down the front of his trousers to release the worst of the dirt. “I’d be a rotten wassa indeed if I let a fancypants shiba Prince keep me down.”

I considered the strange words only briefly before he forced me back into my defensive stance with a soft lunge. It didn’t surprise me; the half-goblin General always seemed to be poised to strike. More than once he had caught me off guard. But I was a fast learner, and he gave me a toothy grin in acknowledgement of my successful block. I nodded, and he executed another series of attacks that had me dancing back on my toes. For his size, Damjan was very quick. I was less attentive to the spar, however, and more so to his constant peppering of goblinese into our conversation. It was certainly a change from our previous meetings.

“Well, Your Highness?” He called as he dodged my returning attack, sending me shooting past him and spinning on heel to prepare for the next onslaught, “Did you two manage to reconcile your differences after all? And keep your knees up!”

I raised the edge of one eyebrow at him, side stepping his feint and landing a solid blow on his shoulder. “My apologies again, General,” I shot back, hiding a blush as I loosened my stance to circle around his outside, “But I don’t believe that is any of your business.”

“On the contrary.” He argued, lobbing two heavy blows towards my middle. I dodged one, deflected the other, taking a skimming hit for my efforts. “As the General of his Armed Forces, I am responsible for protecting him from attacks-” He caught my swinging fist in his, yanking me towards him “-Whatever form it may take.”

I gritted my teeth, rolling my hand free and spinning to launch my elbow up towards his chin. I knew what he was doing. Just like his seemingly random attacks, Damjan used constant verbal assaults as well. Anything to give him an edge. Generally I could tune out his taunts. But he seemed to have found my weak spot, and I couldn’t help lingering on his comment. He dodged my elbow effectively, laughing and dropping low to swing a leg out at my feet. I leapt up and kicked out, sacrificing a balanced landing for a hard hit that had Damjan falling back a few steps. I staggered, breathless, but had time to fix my grounding as he righted himself and squared me up. We paced around each other.

“I haven’t seen him yet today;” he began, my only warning before he charged in. A flurry of blows followed before he and I found ourselves grappling in close quarters for the upper hand. “So tell me, Your Highness... was he still asleep when you left him this morning?”

My focus slipped in my absolute bewilderment of his implication, and just like that, I found myself flat on my back. Jaw dropped open, eyes wide and staring at the blue mountain sky overhead. Damjan’s loud guffaw rippled through the air, and I jumped when his face appeared in my line of sight. He placed his hands on his knees, bending over me and cocking his head to the side.

“Don’t let anyone in your head if you don’t want them there, Your Highness.” He advised. His big, grey-green hand came down, grabbing my shoulder and yanking me back up. “Not everyone will use their advantage quite so charmingly as I.”

I scrambled to get my feet beneath me properly, blushing furiously. And hot with anger at such an intensely personal attack. I didn’t wait for him to ready himself, shamefully knocking off two quick blows before I had even regained my own solid footing. Damjan slapped both aside easily. One quick feint and sweep later, and I was staring slack jawed at the blue sky again.

“Don’t let them ruffle your feathers either.” He suggested, smirking down at me knowingly. He tapped his temple. “You can’t think straight if your head’s burning too hot.”

It took me an extra moment until the wind returned to my lungs, and I gasped. The General helped me up more delicately, patting my back helpfully as I sputtered.

“How.. How dare-” I gasped, trying to form the words at the same time I tried to regain my breath. I pushed away his hand.

He raised his palms, patting the air soothingly. “Apologies, Your Highness. I know that humans are not so comfortable with intimacy as goblins.” His ears flopped as he tilted his head to the side to consider me as I shifted my stance warily. “But I would be a poor teacher indeed if I didn’t try to prepare you.”

My lungs finally having resumed their normal function of breathing, I straightened slowly. Considering him with a stony glare while rubbing at an errant rib. He grinned sheepishly in the face of my look, raising his palms again.

“... Prepare me for what?”

“The Goblin Court.” His toothy grin widened. “There isn’t a goblin alive who doesn’t love to mess with anyone they can. And you will be the main target, as not only our future King, but also a shiba Prince.”

“Shiba?” I echoed dumbly, staring at him. It was not the first time he had used that word in reference to me.

“Human.” He translated, then placed his hand on his hip. “Seems I’m going to have to teach you a little goblinese as well.”

“Hibik is already finding an instructor for me.” I shot back defensively, wiping my hands together.

The General scoffed. “Yeah, and they’ll teach you real good book goblinese. But what about when one of those creampuffs at court calls you a baka lo minsa? Or mumbles diavrit? Hmmm? How much faith do you have in a little eincha from the academy teaching you proper goblinese vulgarities?”

My mouth opened and closed slowly, and I blinked at him again. “I… I don’t think-”

He shook his head. “The Goblin Royal Court  is more ruthless than any battlefield. They think it's all in good fun, but I doubt you’d much enjoy it, Your Highness.” His grin returned, and he walked over to pat me on the back good naturedly. “Tell you what, we can trade! You teach me some good human curses, and I’ll teach you the goblin ones.”

I felt my face flush even hotter, and he laughed amiably. “... May I ask, General,” I started, rubbing at the back of my neck as he started walking over to the wall of the ring, “.... Why are you…ah..” ‘Helping’ seemed like the wrong word to use, based upon my sore back and ego. So I let the question hang without definition.

He grinned, picking up his towel and dabbing at the sweat across his chest. “You are a member of the Royal Family now, Your Highness,” He explained, “Which means you’re under my protection too.” He tossed me my own towel, his grin growing. “So don’t make me work too hard.”

The notion he proposed… being a part of their Royal Family. It set my stomach into an acrobatic routine. It was a concept I hadn’t fully realized yet, despite everything else. That not just my living situation was changing, but my family was changing. Into a completely new world with its own dynamic and history that I had no part in until this very week... I stared numbly at the towel in my hands for a moment before I wiped down my own torso. A breath later I grabbed my tunic and slipped on my boots then followed Damjan back into the castle. My spine itched with nerves now that the spar was over, and I peeked nervously down the dark halls. He cast a glance at me out the corner of his eyes, lips still twitching.

“‘Baka lo minsa’ means something like… brainless, uncultured fool. But much cruder.” He explained, despite the fact I hadn’t asked. “And ‘diavrit’ is… well, literally it means to defecate, though it's more specific as to the manner of defecation.”

I cleared my throat, nearly stumbling over the carpeted hallway. Damjan laughed, wringing his towel in his hands. “I’m not sure this is appropriate-”

“Goblins don’t care.” The General interrupted. “Appropriate, inappropriate. Those words just have less sway with us. There is nothing off the table when it comes to an interaction; whatever you can use to gain the upper hand, you use.” He steered us up towards my tower rooms. “Proper einchak like Hibik may prefer what you would call a more “appropriate” attack, but even they aren’t above calling out your mother’s sexual partners, or your own natural bodily functions. Or standing uncomfortably close. The game, you see, is to do it eloquently. To attack your companion, set them off balance, gain the upper hand, and to do so with a delicate, poetic flourish.”

My head was spinning and I wasn’t sure if it was my heartbeat or footsteps echoing in my ears. I swallowed hard, checking the edges of my mask to make sure I had maintained it throughout our conversation. It seemed by some miracle I had; I wondered if it was enough.

“I appreciate your… candor, General,” I replied finally, feeling secure and confident in my form, and he turned to face me as we reached the door to my rooms, “However, I do not require such vulgarities to ‘gain the upper hand’ as you say.”

He nodded, crossing his arms over his still bare chest and leaning against the wall. “Fair enough, Your Highness.” He agreed. “I have no doubt you are clever enough to outwit anyone, human or goblin. But even if you do not need to use such topics or language, you should still find a comfort and familiarity with them.” His big head dipped to the side. “In order to maintain your composure under heavy fire… Which will include hearing talk of your sexual relationship with the King.”

I nearly cracked my jaw with how hard I clenched it, and I was certain my mask slipped a little. I stammered something uselessly incoherent, and felt my face flush even darker. I pulled at the hem of my newly donned tunic and shuffled slightly, glancing around. Thankfully, we seemed to be alone. I quickly considered a range of different methods of excusing myself from the conversation and ducking into my chambers.

“We are very comfortable talking about sex.” Damjan interjected before I could find the right method. “It is certainly not taboo to discuss our lovers and antics. I myself am currently entangled with a delightful woman… and sometimes her brother instead.” He grinned. “Goblins are very open and accepting of all things of such a nature. The King’s previous partners are well known, and such discussion is commonplace amid the court.” He looked me up and down. “They will expect you to be equally open, and if they find you are unsettled by it, they will never let it go unaddressed.”

I swallowed hard, giving him a curt nod and fixing my stance. “Thank you for the advice General,” I told him, then quickly continued as he opened his mouth as if to add more, “I do apologize, but I must take my leave. I have to prepare for the rest of my day. Until tomorrow then.”

I barely gave him a chance to formally nod and offer a farewell before I ducked into my chambers. I wasn’t able to completely ignore the amused smile on his lips, and his words lingered in my mind even as I closed the door heavily behind me.

By the Gods and all that was holy. I leaned against the wall next to the door and slowly sank to the floor, cupping my head in my hands. Trying to calm my racing heart. How was I supposed to be comfortable speaking about such vulgar and intimate topics when the mere thought of them made me break down into an incoherent mess?! I didn’t even know how I felt about the King, or where our private relationship was headed. Yet I should expect everyone ELSE to be constantly discussing it around me??

I groaned, letting my head fall back and hit the wall. Of course, obviously the general consensus for any level headed person was that we were to be married; which implied there would be some form of… intimacy… My head throbbed with the amount of blood rushing through it, and I tugged at my collar. My mouth went dry at the thought, but I couldn’t help but wonder about… such things. Especially what Damjan had said about Grier’s previous partners… Exactly how many were we talking about?? Not that it mattered, I reminded myself. We had only known each other for a week, and he was a King after all. Young, handsome… virile. I certainly had not shared my own romantic history with him (not that there was much of a history to share), and I found myself surprised to be pleasantly comforted by the fact that at least one of us would know what we were doing in… that department. It sent a chilly rush down my spine as I wondered what Grier himself expected for such matters of physical intimacy. My fingers came up to my lips of their own accord, and I felt the tingling ghost of his hand at my cheek. Certainly I had… enjoyed our interactions so far… I shifted, not unfamiliar with my body’s response to his advances, but never having needed to really assess such things before. I had only ever been able to… By the Gods, I couldn’t even think about my own intimate exploits in a coherent sentence. I had no words, no real thoughts I could describe it with. I settled for images. Memories of the one time I had slipped up, and let my emotions get ahead of my sound reasoning. It filled me with heat, and my breath became shallow.

There was also the lingering guilt, the stab of regret. Painfully twisting cruel fingers into my heart. I sighed again, rubbing my hand over the top of my head. This was not going to be easy. I gritted my teeth, then forced myself to my feet. I didn’t have time to linger on such things though. I was due to meet the Dowager Queen soon. And found it less daunting that she was a notoriously sharp witted and harsh Goblin Monarch than the fact that she was Grier’s mother… I swallowed painfully and headed over to the bathing room.

I wasn’t sure exactly when the introductions would happen, and wanted to be prepared as best I was able. Damjan had given me a little insight into the former Queen, mostly regarding her reputation as an indomitable force. But he had been frustratingly unhelpful in advice on meeting her myself. He had merely grinned and said something along the lines of ‘that’s a personal matter between you and Grier’. I kicked the soiled towel aside from where I had dropped it on the floor, scowling. So our personal intimate life was up for discussion, but not what I was supposed to do when meeting my intended’s mother? Hardly seemed fair.

I was scrubbed and polished clean by the time a light knock came on the door nearly an hour later, and I rushed to pull the fresh tunic over my head. My wardrobe options were becoming painfully repetitive; soon all my things would be soiled beyond respectable use. I wondered how to brooch the topic with Grier, which conjured a horrible image of myself in bright, lavish colors with ridiculous necklines, streaming lace and frills and… Perhaps I could send for my own things instead. Though I dreaded composing that letter almost as much.

A different goblin than the one on my mind stood at the door, and he bowed his head respectfully as I opened my chambers. Beside him was a silver cart filled to nearly unbalancing it with covered plates and bowls. I considered him briefly; I was certain it was the same goblin whom had been attending me since my arrival. Bringing my food the previous days, and walking with me and Hibik to the gardens the evening before those.

“The King has sent word that he will call upon you shortly,” He began, his voice quiet, “And requested your shared breakfast be sent ahead. If Your Highness would permit me?”

I nodded quickly, stepping aside to allow him into the chambers. “Of course, thank you.”

The goblin bounded lightly at my words, a small smile coming to his large lips. He barely came to my navel, and had dark curls that fell about his copper eyes as he moved despite an obvious attempt to keep them out of his face with some sort of grease and a hair thong. I followed him as he pushed the cart in, bringing it to the bed chambers where he had set the previous meals at the small table there.

I idled momentarily on the impropriety of dining in my private chambers, and felt a little flush to my cheeks at the thought. Certainly it was not commonplace, though I had heard that my father occasionally took counsel in his rooms when needs arose early in the morning… I assumed Grier had not given nearly so much thought to it as I was now, however, and didn’t want to be a bother about it. Perhaps it was not unheard of for goblins. It wouldn’t surprise me at any rate, given what I had seen of them thus far. I distracted myself by considering the dark haired goblin again.

“I apologize for my rudeness,” I told him as he began to set out the dishes, “I never requested your name. Might I have it now?”

He gave me a small grin, averting his eyes politely. “It is Seoc, Your Highness. I have been assigned as your personal attendant. In whatever capacity you have need of me.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” I replied graciously, “I beg your forgiveness for not having made an effort to do so sooner.”

Seoc bowed lightly, a small smile on his lips, having finished setting the dishes out on the small table before the couch. “Quite understandable, Your Highness. It has been an eventful few days for you.” He cocked his head to the side. “Can I be of any further assistance at this time?”

I paused, if only momentarily, thinking back to my lack of attire, but then shook my head. “No, thank you, Seoc. I appreciate your time.”

He grinned, nodding respectfully. “I will be within ear shot, should you think of anything, Your Highness. Please do not hesitate to call.”

Just as he bobbed out, Grier strode in through the open door, and I had to work hard to keep from starting at the sight of him. Not only because of his sudden, light footed and casual entrance into my private chambers, but also due to his overall appearance. He wore a tight emerald vest with yellow embroidery over a billowous, fluffy cream colored shirt that spilled out the edges of the vest as if unable to be contained and ballooned at the sleeves. His pants were a dark grey, and were equally tight all the way up to his navel with large gold buttons the size of his palm along the midseam. The vest reached just past the top of his trousers, but the cream colored shirt spilled out the back like a puffy tail. His hair seemed particularly wild, and he had a scowl set onto his lips. Hibik trailed behind him, babbling something and scrambling to keep the parchment in his arms from dropping.

“The sun has only been up for a few hours, Hibik,” The King grumbled, waving his secretary into silence, “Allow me time to fully come to my senses before you test them.”

I tucked my hands behind my back, squaring my shoulders and swallowing my nerves as the goblin turned to face me. “Good morning, Your Majesty.” I greeted him, though felt a tingle of unease that threatened to burst into a fully formed tension.

His scarlet eyes considered me, and he sighed heavily. “Don’t start with that again.”

“I’m afraid I do not know what-”

He waved his hand again, cutting me off. I pursed my lips as he turned to his secretary. “Another hour’s peace, Hibik, at least. Let me have some coffee, and hopefully some pleasant company. I trust your judgement on these things.”

Hibik nodded, bobbing nervously. “Of course, my King.”

Grier turned back to me as the other goblin darted out, closing the door behind him. “Did you sleep well?”

I blinked momentarily, confused by his switch. Eventually I nodded, though slowly. “... I did, thank you.” I noticed him looking about, the small scowl on his lips seeming to deepen. “Ah… did you as well, Your-”

“I will scream.” He threatened me curtly, narrowing his scarlet eyes. I clamped my mouth shut, my eyes widening slightly. Grier gave another deep sigh, shaking his head.

He strode to the bedroom without waiting for my invitation. I stiffened at that, but followed behind quietly. Again, I saw him look about, placing his hands on his hips. His brow scrunched, yet he said nothing, plopping down on the couch with a huff. My tongue itched to speak out against that, and I felt a tingling of insult at his behavior. But I settled into practiced temperance and withheld my comments. I reminded myself that it was likely just a simple misunderstanding… After all, I was his guest, and his future spouse. Perhaps it was not rude to assume such casual familiarity. I saw his nose twitch, and he looked over the plates and dishes before reaching for a decanter and cup. I too could smell the thick aroma of the hot brown liquid as he poured himself a serving. What had he called it? Yes, that’s right, coffee-

“HIBIK!” He shouted loudly, and I jumped in surprise.

There was a clatter and a crash from the hallway beyond the foyer. Then the small man quickly darted in, bowing repeatedly. I stared at him, a little taken aback.

“Y-yes my King?”

Grier waved his hand about. “Do I even have to say?”

“Ah, no, my King… Apologies I-”

“Who is his attendant again?” The King leaned back, his brow dark and his scowl somehow even deeper.

“Ah, that.. That would be-” Hibik scrambled through the parchment in his hands.

“Seoc.” I informed him, my voice a little tight. Both goblins froze, staring at me with surprise. As if they had forgotten I was there for a moment. I considered them both. “Is something wrong?”

Grier made a soft ‘tch’ with his mouth, sipping at his coffee slowly. Hibik glanced at him, then offered me a polite bow. “My fervent apologies, Your Highness, for the state of your rooms. I had intended to send up a designer for your consult as we discussed, but there was a delay in procuring the usual Royal decorators.”

I tried to puzzle together the implications of his response, but found I could not fathom what had them both in such a tizzy. “No apologies necessary, Lord Hibik-”

“It is unacceptable!” Snapped Grier, interrupting me. I felt my own temper flare, and clenched my jaw. “You, a Royal guest who is also my betrothed, to be treated so shamefully. No wonder you would think us uncivilized.” He started to turn back to Hibik. “No further delays. I want these rooms properly furnished before-”

“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty,” I interjected, a little louder than I had intended, taking a bold step closer, “But I will remind you that you have given me these rooms to do with ‘as I wish’, and as such, I will not be accepting any additional furnishings or decor at this time.”

The sharpness in my voice had him falling silent, and his slender brows shot up. Hibik glanced nervously between the two of us. I waited a breath, holding the goblin King’s scarlet eyes.

“... You mean, you like your chambers like-?”

“Lord Hibik, thank you, but we will not require your services at this time. You may go. I am sure you already have enough to keep you busy.” I informed him, ignoring Grier for a moment. I heard him begin to sputter behind me, but nodded to the smaller goblin who hesitated for a moment with a glance to the King before bowing and making his exit.

“You would dismiss my secretary-”

“Apologies, Your Majesty,” I interrupted him again as he had me, turning to face him properly, “However, if this is not to your satisfaction, I am certain as King you have numerous options available for where you may take your breakfast. I will not keep you from them.”

“Are you… kicking me out?” He sounded both equally astonished and perhaps arrogantly bemused that I would dare order anything of him at all. Perhaps he was not used to be refused so pointedly. Or eloquently.

I stiffened, squaring my jaw and considering him. “I would hate for Your Majesty to be uncomfortable. If you feel the setting is not to your standards, you are welcome to leave it.”

Again, he fell silent. Staring at me in unsuppressed surprise. Part of me hoped he would leave. I had never seen him so rude and demanding. It was off putting and I did not enjoy it in the least, and it left a bitter anger rolling in my gut. Was this the real Grier, I wondered? Had the rest been some act? The other part of me hoped there was some rational explanation… certainly he had shown his emotional range in such a manner before, but this time seemed wholly unprovoked. I held his gaze, unwavering in my stubbornness. Pitting my will against his. Finally, he broke the stalemate by slowly raising his cup to his lips and taking a careful sip. I wasn’t sure how he managed to make even that look arrogant. I continued to wait, my anger still twisting in my gut, hands still clasped behind my back.

“... Forgive me,” He grumbled, leaning back and taking another deep sip, “I am told I am not a ‘morning person’... I would like to stay, if that’s alright.” A small smirk played across his lips. “Though I have to say… I rather like this authoritative side of you.”

I felt my face flush, and just like that the bastard gained the upper hand again. His grin grew, and he patted the couch next to him. I paused, looking him up and down. Not entirely sure I was willing to forgive his earlier rudeness so easily. He finished off the last of his coffee and reached for the pot to refill his cup, flipping over another as he did and filling it as well. Slowly, I moved over. He held out the cup as humbly as he could manage, and I took his peace offering warily, sitting down at the opposite arm of the couch

“... I am often… less than courteous before noon.” He told me conversationally. “But I am sorry if I came off as… ah…” I checked on him out of the corner of my eye. “... More of an ass than usual, yes?”

“I believe Lord Hibik received the brunt of your ‘morning person’.” I replied lightly, keeping my tone as formal as possible and still not looking at him directly.

Grier sighed again, wincing. “Yes… I shall have to apologize to him… Though I fear he is far too accustomed to my morning antics.” He gave me a tiny, mischievous grin. “Despite the circumstances surrounding it... It is nice to see you speaking out… If I can otherwise encourage you to speak your mind, I will hasten to do so.”

I took a sip of the coffee in my hands, dropping my gaze. Silence spread between us for a long moment, and I felt my ears burn as it gave me time to remember the last time I had seen the King. More specifically, how his lips had tasted against mine. What did he expect of this interaction? I recalled the way he had so casually sauntered into my rooms, without asking my leave. For that matter, what did I expect? I was suddenly painfully aware of the proximity of my bed to us, and the invitation I had proposed to him last night. As well as how it could have been taken... I wondered if by goblin standards, that invitation had carried over until today. I swallowed my nervousness with another sip as he straightened, reaching out and plucking up what looked to be some strange baked treat from the trays in front of us. I saw his eyes skim about the room again as he leaned back and took a small bite.

“You really like your rooms like this?” I followed his eyes, considering the mostly bare room. I hesitated, chewing over an appropriate response. “Speak your mind, yes?” He reminded me. “You most of all should always be free to do so.”

I looked down into my cup, quiet for a moment longer. “... They are sufficient.”

“They are boring.” He mused, taking another bite of his pastry. “I know you said the rest of the castle was too loud, but surely you’d at least like some more furniture?”

I rolled my thumb along the edge of my cup before taking a slow sip, casting my eye around the room. The large four poster bed, the fireplace. The simple couch and small table. The bare walls and floors, devoid of personal effects and most color. It felt… strange. Empty and hollow, the shell of a real life. But somehow I found I preferred it this way. It felt… safe. A place to hide away and avoid facing the daunting spans of the rest of my life.

“... They are sufficient.” I repeated softly.

Grier plucked another of the baked treats from the tray and held it out to me. “It’s a bit early to dig for the emotional confession behind that answer. Can I perhaps tempt you with a goblin pastry instead?”

I almost smiled at his teasing, but lightly took the roll from his hand. He made sure our fingers brushed and I glanced at his eyes as they did. I pretended the heat wasn’t returning to my face, bringing the roll to my nose for an experimental sniff before taking a bite.

The dough was warm and flaky, and the inside was filled with some sort of ground meat. There was a burst of flavor, spicy and tart, quickly overlaid by the buttery softness of the dough. My eyes widened slightly in surprise, and I chewed thoughtfully. Very aware of his scarlet eyes watching me carefully.

“They are called uyapi,” He told me, turning to pick up another one for himself, “The outside dough is universal, but the fillings change depending on the meal and occasion. For breakfast, usually the goblin equivalent of sausage.” 

He bared his sharp pointy teeth as he spread his jaw as wide as it would go to fit the entire roll in his mouth in one oversized bite. I observed him in bewilderment as he chewed, his cheeks ballooned out almost comically.

I took a more delicate bite of the remainder of mine, nodding slightly. “It is good.” I told him quietly.

He swallowed the last of his. “The nice thing about them is they have a bit of everything, so are almost like a small meal in every bite.” He noted. “There’s meat, diced vegetables, and often cheese as well as the dough.” I watched as he brought his long fingers to his mouth, licking each one slowly.

My mouth went dry at the sight of his long tongue, and I quickly looked for something else to occupy my thoughts. Even as my face grew hot. I took a deep sip of the coffee before placing the cup back on the small table, straightening a little in my seat. I finished the last of the pastry and reached for another.

“I will be trying to spend as much time with you as possible,” He told me, unaware of my internal struggle and leaning back with a third cup of coffee, “To hopefully… ease the transition. I hope you don’t mind.”

I shook my head slowly, swallowing the last of the uyapi and reaching for my drink again. “It sounds like the appropriate course of action… given our circumstances.”

His thin lips spread in a wide smile, and he cocked his head to the side as I took a slow sip. “Our circumstances, hm? You mean how I have already fallen hopelessly head over heels for you while I can only assume that even if you did feel the same way, you wouldn’t even know?”

I sputtered into my coffee, my face burning hotter than my drink. I coughed to clear my airway, placing the cup back on the table. I saw his grin grow, but his eyes were soft. I watched him out the corner of my eye as I dabbed a napkin at my mouth and chin. There was a warmth in the edges of his ruby reds, an echo of what I had seen the day before. I swallowed hard, my head spinning, and stared down at the napkin in my hands.

“.... Forgive me yet again… You are just always so serious and proper,” He swirled his coffee, considering me with a tiny smirk, “It is amusing to see you all flustered, knowing that I put you there.”

I remembered what Damjan had said about the Royal Court, and squared my jaw. Taking a steadying breath and relaxing my features to the best of my ability. I couldn’t help a glance at him again, and noticed him place his half finished drink on the table by mine. I felt the cushion beneath us shift as he slid a little closer.

“.... Not to mention you look very cute when you are surprised.”’

I slid as far away as I could manage, blinking rapidly. “I-I do not like to be.” I stammered, my lips feeling numb and mostly useless. “I prefer to always have control.”

His grin grew, and I felt my flush deepen, wondering what hidden meaning he had taken from my response. “Noted.” He pushed his hair back out of his face. “However, as I was saying, it would make things easier for you to accompany me as I complete my regular duties. Then not only could we become more… accustomed to each other’s presence and preferences, you would also be able to become more familiar with goblin society.” He cocked his head to the side. “You would be a greater boon as a husband if you were able to help me govern my people. Though I would also relish simply keeping you as a trophy in my chambers as well. You are certainly handsome enough-”

“I have spent my life training in royal duties and assisting the Crown Prince,” I interrupted him quickly, and ignoring the flash of his sharp teeth as he smiled again, “I would be pleased to utilize those skills and obtain new ones in the aid of your people.”

“Our people.” He corrected, sounding amused. “Soon enough, at least. And I suspected you might not be the type to sit idly by. However, I believe this might be easier accomplished if you might permit me to cast the charm on your eyes we discussed.” His smile faded, and one long finger came up to tap his pointed chin. “Though perhaps not today, as you wished to better understand the magic before it was cast upon you. I can procure a book I am certain, though it may take a few days to find one in common or have one translated.”

“I-I…” I stopped as soon as my words stammered out, and swallowed hard. Grier looked back at me, curious. “If… If you think it would be best,” I started again, then reached up to rub at the back of my neck, “I… I would trust your judgement and… and you.”

Now it was his turn to look surprised, and I looked at him through my dark lashes. He stayed silent for a moment, then the warmth returned to his eyes. “... You would trust me?” I nodded shyly. “... I don’t mind waiting. Your request is quite reasonable-”

“I trust you.” I spoke the words softly, timid and sheepish. But their honesty was undeniable to either of us, and I felt him shift slightly in his seat even as those words settled deep into my chest. It was odd to admit… but I did trust him.

“... I’ll have to touch you.” He explained, lifting his hands with his palms out as if to illustrate his meaning. 

I nodded my consent, and he continued, sliding closer. Reaching up and gently cupping my face with his fingers on my temples and his palms against my cheeks. I bowed my shoulders and leaned a little lower so he could reach me more easily. I felt him skim his thumbs against my eyelashes, and blinked instinctually. His touch was light, but his skin was warm. My head swam as soon as it touched mine, and I almost missed his next words as my heart thundered in my ears.

“This won’t hurt,” He assured me gently, “But it will feel a bit strange… Try not to move.”

I nodded again, my movement slightly impeded by his hands. I saw him stiffen slightly. Noticed his eyes flick down to my lips. I wasn’t entirely sure if my heart had stopped, but I was pretty positive my breathing had. And he hadn’t even started the spell yet. He cleared his throat lightly, then closed those startling ruby reds. Freeing me to look down at his own lips without scrutiny. I watched them begin to move slowly, and could almost see them tracing the sounds out in the air with each syllable. The words he spoke were entirely foreign to me, but I felt a strange tingling sensation at his fingertips against my temples. It spread, like cool, trickling water, or hundreds of tiny little pine needles. It didn’t hurt, as he had promised, and as it reached my eyes his thumbs moved. I closed my eyes, felt him trace his thumbs over the lids. Still murmuring softly. It was warm then, like I was looking at the sun through my eyelids. It seemed to seep back, deeper than my eyes, and I let out a little breath as his thumbs moved away and the sensations faded with his voice.

I knew the shape of his mouth now, as it brushed against my own. I drew back in the breath I had released silently, but otherwise didn’t move. I kept my eyes closed as he gently trailed his lips along mine. It was brief, just a feather light kiss. Yet still my head spun like a top and it took me more than a single breathing cycle to let my eyes flutter back open after he leaned back.

He was watching me, his hands lingering on my face. I adjusted my tongue in my mouth, studying those scarlet eyes of his. “... Was that part of the spell?”

“No.” He admitted sheepishly. “I just... couldn’t resist the temptation.”

“...Well… you’d make a terrible monk...” I mumbled.

He laughed, running his thumb across my cheekbone. I flushed hotter at his delighted smile, and after another moment deigned to straighten. Slowly pulling my face out of his hands. He shook his head, still grinning like a fool.

“Obviously you are a morning person.” He said, bemused. “All quick witted and reserved… how long have you been up?”

“Since dawn.” I replied, looking around the room curiously. But nothing seemed to look different.

“An ungodly hour.” Grier grumbled, shaking his head, then his voice became tender. “Though, perhaps you could convert me to… What are you doing?”

I jumped from my slow rotation of studying the bedchamber, turning back to him embarrassedly. “I-I was… Just seeing if…”

He smiled knowingly. “You won’t notice a difference in here. You could already see in this light before.” Then he stood, straightening his vest before looking down at me. “You can see if it works sufficiently in the halls on our way to my mother’s quarters. Come.”

I jumped up at his words, my heart skipping, then quickly tried to brush away my suddenness with a glance around. His smile quirked to one side, and I cleared my throat. Fixing my composure back into place. He gestured to the table, but I shook my head before he could ask. I certainly wasn’t going to be able to eat any more now.

“Relax.” He told me comfortingly as he led the way towards the foyer. “She doesn’t bite.” I tried to listen to him, burying my fretfulness and following him out into the hall. “... Not that hard, anyway.”

“Grier,” I let slip unintentionally and unable to completely keep the exasperation from my voice.

His laughter proceeded us down the hallway.

….

“Mother?” Grier called softly following his knock, cracking the door open and poking his head around. “Are you decent?”

A scoff came from the room beyond him, and I resisted the urge to shift nervously at his shoulder. “Am I ever, mo apawiwi?”

Grier sighed heavily, shaking his head. “I meant that I have brought a visitor, inana. May I bring him in?”

“Do as you like!” Came the hazardous voice, thin but still strong. “You are King, are you not?”

He groaned, shouldering the door open and walking in. He gestured for me to follow him, which I did. Though much more slowly and less languidly than he. I kept my spine stiff, my shoulders squared, with my hands tucked into the small of my back and my heart in my throat.

The room we entered was grandiose, with high ceilings and thick draping curtains around the walls. There were a great many items of furniture; here a desk, there an armoire. In the corner a long table with a shelf built along one end. Most in a dark, polished wood though occasionally a lighter pine sprinkled amid the others. And of course, each of these available surfaces was covered in items. Delicate and expensive looking bottles of what I imagined must be perfume. Gems and jewels, necklaces and earrings. Books and large hats. Maps and parchment, quills and inkwells, globes and strange models of things I had no name for. A few small stone busts or statues, some of stone, others of wood, still more of copper. I wasn’t sure where to place my focus, as each time I shifted it I found a million things to see. I found that my enchanted eyes were easily able to define the shapes of everything, down to minute details. But the colors, which I imagined were just as loud as in every other part of the castle, were subdued. For which I was grateful; the clutter alone was overwhelming, not to mention the heavy smell of old perfume and worn cotton.

The King led the way towards the center of the room, where a great chair with a high, plush back was set amid piles and piles of trinkets like a dragon’s hoard. It was perpendicular to the door, requiring us to walk around to the side to approach it head on. Which we did, and which also gave a pair of beady red eyes time to carefully run us over from head to toe.

The Dowager Queen was small, her thin shoulders hunched and bowed with age. I could see the distinct shape of her bones in her skinny arms as they extended to rest her thin hands on the head of an ornate cane that tapped the ground between her knobby knees. She wore a large dress, poofy and full of lace and frills, which enveloped her tiny form like a cloud, spilling over the arms of the chair and bunching at her little shoulders. Her nose was similar to Grier’s, though a little longer and more hooked at the end. She had the same eyes, the same brows, though her face was more rounded than his, and her ears, while wider around the middle, still curled back towards her face in the same way his did. It was impossible to say what color her hair had once been, as it was bleached as white as fresh snow, but looked equally as soft piled into a neat bun on the top of her head. She jingled like a bell from all the jewelry she was adorned with as she tilted her head, scarlet eyes studying me as I came around to her front. I stopped a respectable distance away, tucking my heels together and dipping my head politely.

“Mother, this is Prince Nikostratus.” Grier introduced me, going to his mother’s side and dropping to one knee by the arm of her chair. “Prince Nikostratus, allow me to introduce the Dowager Queen Morag.”

I bowed slightly at the waist, dropping my eyes respectfully. “Your Grace.”

My neck itched from the weight of her gaze on me, but I kept my head bowed for a long moment. Trying to deny the twitch in my fist clasped tightly behind my back. When I finally did straighten, her eyes followed me, and her head tilted to the other side.

“Khos kala ka, spaye halshalen shiba wa.” She intoned, considering me still.

I was incapable of hiding the  helpless flick of my eyes to Grier at her words. He seemed embarrassed, and rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Ah… She said-”

“If I had been speaking for his ears, I would have spoken in Common, apawi.” She snapped, then flicked her fingers. “Cuir om, my child. Who is this shiba? Why have you brought him?”

“Well, Mother, Prince Nikostratus is to be my husband.” He explained, and I could see the anxiousness plainly on his face as he shifted on his knees by her side. “We-”

“Kashta vol! What is this nonsense you speak?” She cut him off again, her voice louder, and he winced, opening his mouth just to have her wave her hand to silence him and turn to me. “Non, come closer, shibakin. You will answer, not this abhama who would try to lie to his ina, and let me see your eyes when you do.”

I did as bidden, though my heart thrummed loudly in my ears. I took a few steps towards her, maintaining a respectable distance. I shifted my stance, shrinking my body as much as possible without actually bending or crouching down and making an effort not to loom over her. She seemed to consider this, reaching up to run her long fingers along her chin. I met her eyes firmly, burying my nerves and fretfulness deep down. Etching my face into stone to hide whatever she might try to pry from me. I saw Grier wince again, but ignored him. I didn’t have time to focus on appeasing both goblins at the same time.

“Why do you marry my son?” She demanded, her Common thickly accented with the rolling syllables of goblinese but still clear to the ear.

“We broker a peace between our two kingdoms with our marriage.” I told her honestly.

“Shiba men do not enjoy shiba men.”

My jaw stiffened. “Not openly.”

“You are a Prince?” She pressed.

“Yes.”

“The firstborn?”

“Secondborn. I would not take the throne.” I replied.

“So you seek one.”

“No.”

“Then why marry a King?”

“To end a war.”

“Even though he is goblin?”

“Yes.”

“For whom do you end the war? Yourself? For renown?”

“No.”

“Then whom?”

“My sister. My people.”

“For shiba.”

“For shiba and goblin.”

“Not for your King.”

“... No.”

She fell silent for a moment after her rapid fire, steepling her fingers before her chin. Her eyes studied my face. I was careful to keep it blank, but firm. Certain and undeniable. I saw Grier’s eyes darting back and forth between us. Thought I saw him chewing his bottom lip. But I refused to look away from the diminutive goblin in front of me. She straightened, shifting in her seat. As relaxed as I was on edge, though I hoped my composure held well beneath her scrutiny.

“PAYE!” She shouted, and we both jumped. “Bring chairs for my guests.”

An attendant darted from the next room, quickly dragging over two chairs. I hastened to help them as soon as I saw them nearly buckle under the weight, and they offered me a grateful look. I was vehemently aware of the Queen’s eyes still following me, and noticed Grier nearly trip over himself as he stood and settled in the offered chair.

“When will you wed?” She demanded as I took my own seat.

“It will take time to plan, inana,” Grier explained, rubbing his hands over his knees, “Perhaps next spring-”

“Pah!” She scoffed, waving her hand at him. “I am old, mo apawi. I do not have such time to wait about. You!” She turned on me, pointing with one bony finger. “Shibakin. You will send for your mother. You learn the most about a boy from his mother.”

I stiffened, and felt my jaw clench a little tighter. I saw Grier open his mouth, looking a little pained, but I shook my head slightly. Catching his words before they left his mouth.

“I am afraid my mother passed when I was a teenager, Your Grace.” I told her myself, hoping my voice didn’t sound too thin.

She clicked her tongue, making a soft sound in her throat as she considered this. “You have a sister, yes?” I nodded. “Then you will bring her.”

“...She is nine.”

“All the better.” She scoffed. “Children are always honest.”

“Mother, I don’t think it’s the best-”

“PAH!” She shouted, silencing her son again. “You don’t think Grier. That is your greatest fault. You have no patience.” Her scarlet eyes flicked over to me. “How am I to know what kind of man this Prince is if I cannot speak to his family?”

“You could ask me.” I replied dryly. Then instantly clamped my mouth shut as her beady eyes narrowed. Internally I kicked myself. What had ever possessed me to-

“PAH!” She barked, though this time it sounded more like a laugh. Her thin lips twisted into a smirk. “Would you answer? Do you know yourself, shibakin?”

I hesitated, then dropped my eyes. “... No.”

“PAH!” She laughed again, rubbing her hands over the head of her cane. “He is a clever one then.” I jumped as the end of the stick came up and tapped my knee. “Let me tell you, shibakin. No one knows who they are. Many think they do, but they are wrong.” She tapped my knee again, and I met her eyes. “If you wish to know someone, see them through the eyes of those they love. That is where you will find your answer.”

“That is wise, Your Grace.” I said humbly. “...What may I learn from you of the King then?” I noticed Grier shoot me an embittered look. I hid my amusement well.

“Of course it is!” She cried, then turned and smacked her cane against his leg. “Pah! I like this one, apawiwi! You will keep him.” She glanced back at me. “As for this abhama!” She whacked him again. “He never thinks! He never waits! He just acts acts acts!” She punctuated each repetition of the word with a whack against his leg. Grier scowled, trying to swat the stick to the side unsuccessfully. She was quicker than I would have expected. 

“Mother!” He hissed, and I thought I saw his cheeks burn a little darker. “I am a grown man. You cannot-”

“PAH!” She shouted, smacking him one last time for emphasis. “You are a child still, apawi, because you still act like one. Perhaps marrying this shiba will calm your passion.” Morag turned back to me, and I eyed her cane warily. “He is passionate, yes? He is heat and fire and burns at both ends. He feels everything. And he wears it on his ridiculous looking sleeves.” I pursed my lips to keep them from twitching. “You! You, shiba. You are cool, and calm. You are stone in a storm. You think before you act. Two minutes and I see this plain!” She banged her cane on the ground at the foot of her chair. “Teach this abhama some of your ways. And he will help you crack your mask to burn hot as he does, shibakin.” She nodded, as if agreeing with herself as she thought her words through.

“His name is Nikostratus, ina.” Grier grumbled, crossing his arms in a pout over his chest. “Not shibakin.”

“Pah!” She scoffed. “I am old, cai thani, I do not have time for such a long name.” She banged her cane against the floor. “PAYE! Bring us drinks! Ash usi yage!”

“Ina!” He scolded. “It is not even noon!”

He jerked his legs up to avoid her swinging cane. “PAH! I am cai thani, what do I care for noon? It does not wait for me. I shall not wait for it.” Morag turned back to me. “You, mo shiba, shall bring me your sister. I have always wanted a daughter. And this siut abhama,” She swung at Grier again, “Is quick in everything but giving me grandchildren.”

I tried to sort out her words, blinking slowly. The goblin attendant returned, and I found a glass pressed into my hand. It was filled with a clear liquid, and I could already smell the strong vapors wafting from it. I glanced at Grier, who had a different shaped glass in his own hand. But considering the grimace on his face, I was guessing his held the same liquor as mine.

“I would be honored to bring my sister here,” I started carefully, watching the little old goblin draw in a deep, pleased breath from her own glass, “But I am afraid there may be… other complications Your Grace-”

“PAH!” She shouted, and clapped the bottom of her cane on the ground again. “You will call me ina, mo shibakin. Ina Morag. And what what? What is this you speak? ‘Complications’? PAH! You are a Prince, no?”

“Yes, but-”

“There is no but!” She snapped. “You want her to come? You bring her. There, I make it simple.” Scarlet eyes darted to her son. “Perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps you are better match because you are both abhamak.”

“Your Grace-”

“Ina Morag! Ina Morag!” She practically shouted. Snapping her cane against the floor. “You are deaf, mo shibakin?” She turned back to Grier. “You are not teaching him goblinese? Gunum! That I should have a son that would not know my own language. Nare!”

“Nikostratus has barely been here a week, ina,” He breathed exasperatedly, rubbing at his brow with one hand, “We already decided to procure-”

“Gunum! You make excuses, Grier. Teach the boy goblinese. Nisle! Yes?”

He nodded, smirking. “Yes, inana. I hear you.”

“Pah!” She leaned over to me, holding one hand by her mouth conspiratorially. “He says this, and then as soon as I am out of ear, he will do what he wants anyway.” She nodded to me. “Do not let your manwe pull this on you, mo shiba.” A familiar mischievous grin spread her thin lips. “I will teach you his tricks, mo shiba. I am his inana. I know them all.” She tapped her cane lightly on the floor. “Come and visit your ina Morag. You are welcome here.”

I dropped my gaze, flattered and feeling heat rising to my ears. I heard her laugh, and recognized in its echo another thing her son had inherited from her. I chanced a peek at him out of the corner of my eye, and saw him hiding a small smile, his face equally flushed.

“Hechi!” She proclaimed, her voice softer than I had yet heard it. She held her glass high. “To your union, yes? And your future together.”

I recognized a toast when I heard one, and raised my own glass in a soft salute. I gritted my teeth as I brought the strong smelling liquor to my lips. I tried not to let it linger in my mouth longer than necessary. But I wasn’t entirely sure I hadn’t just swallowed fire. I heard Grier coughing as he downed his own, and felt the corners of my eyes water as I tightened my jaw and resisted the burn in my own throat.

Morag chuckled, seemingly unaffected by hers. She tapped one long boney finger and the attendant returned to refill her glass. They didn’t bother to offer more to us, for which I was glad. Manners aside, I wasn’t certain I would be able manage a second. The burn settled heavily in my stomach, and I swallowed a few times trying to clear it.

Suddenly, the old Queen began to speak again, long and flowing sentences in goblinese. I couldn’t even attempt to follow along, let alone pull individual words out. Again, her voice was soft, and though she looked at me as she spoke, I could see Grier stiffen in his seat. When she finished, there was silence for a long moment, and it rang in my ears. I turned to the King to find his face a little pale and his lips tight.

Finally, he nodded, looking down at the floor. “... Tasu, inana.”

I didn’t know the word, but it sounded affirmative, as if he were confirming something she had said. Her eyes finally fixed on him, her head tilting to the side. She spoke a shorter sentence in goblinese, and I could feel the tender warmth in it. I shifted, uncomfortable to sense such a moment between mother and son, even if I couldn’t understand what was being said. It was intimate, and I felt as though I were trespassing. After she finished, Grier hesitated before nodding. A moment later he stood.

“She wishes to speak to you alone for a moment,” He told me as I started to follow him, “...I’ll wait in the hall.”

My composure almost slipped, but I managed to keep it as he took up his mother’s hand. Then bent down and gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek. She smiled, patting his face fondly. He passed me one last look, which I couldn’t quite read, then left. Leaving me alone with the Dowager Queen.

She waited until the door clicked closed behind him, eyeing me all the while. I stayed still under her scrutiny, but felt my heart going a mile a minute in my breast. The minutes ticked by in silence, and I waited with practiced patience despite the knots slowly tying and untying themselves in my stomach.

“I have but one son.” She began finally, tapping her glass quietly. “One child. Grier is my everything, shibakin. And I would see him happy before I die.” She sighed, taking a sip and leaning back in her chair. “It does not matter what I say, he will do what he wants in the end. But I would know you, so that perhaps when my time comes I can go in peace.”

I straightened slightly, rolling the empty glass in my own hands. “I will give you whatever peace I can offer, Your Grace.”

“Hmmm. I see you do that.” She jerked her chin at me. “I have known you ten minutes, and I see it. You hide yourself, whenever emotions might show. You become stone.” I tried not to tighten more at her words, and therefore prove their weight of truth. “... But I sense you feel things strongly. Perhaps even more strongly than Grier does.” I said nothing, yet felt her words sink inside me like an anchor off the side of a ship. Dragging me down to dark depths. “... Do you love my son?”

I felt cold at her words, and my jaw clenched. “I barely know him, Your Grace. We just met a few days ago.”

“So? Does this matter?”

“... I am not sure I know what it means..” I admitted to her weakly, my voice soft but honest.

“You love your sister.” She pointed out. “You build a peace for her.”

“Yes, but... that is different.”

“Can you love my son?”

I almost winced. “I do not know.”

“Does he make you happy? Or is this a marriage of necessity?”

I thought about that for a long, quiet moment. I considered just telling her what she wanted to hear. Just speaking sweetly to soothe her conscience. I shifted, looking down at the ground without really seeing it. Knowing I couldn’t do it.

“... It started with my responsibility to my Kingdom. To bring peace.” I told her honestly, my voice hesitant and uncertain. “But… He’s been… I-I…” I gritted my teeth. “I am… not very good at expressing myself.”

“Hmmm.” She tilted her head to the other side. “When you touch, does your mind spin?”

“... Yes.” 

“When you see him, does your heart skip?”

“... Yes.”

“Have you kissed him?” I blushed furiously. She scoffed at that, and her jewels jangled as she shook her head. “And?”

I thumbed the glass, and felt my blush deepen. But I forced the words from my lips. “A-and … I can’t breathe… I can’t… think… I have no words, but feel I have so much to say…” I shook my own head. “I apologize, that makes no sense.”

“Love doesn’t make sense, abhama shibakin mo.” She replied, sounding amused. “I was not sure I loved his father when we married. Perhaps I did not then. But I came to love him.” Her voice became pained. “I miss him every day now.”

“I am sorry for your loss, Your Grace.”

“I am sorry for yours, shiba apawi mo.” She tapped my boot lightly with her cane. “Call me ina, yes? Ina Morag. Make an old lady happy.”

“As you wish… Ina Morag.” I tried not to mumble, and glanced up at her as I spoke.

She gave me a kind smile. “You do make him happy, mo shiba. It is obvious to anyone who knows him. Just in the way he looks at you. I never thought Grier would be one to settle his wild spirit with one heart. But, I believe he has settled his heart on yours… And I believe one day your heart will settle into his.” She smirked. “Though you may not notice when it does.” A laugh this time. “You may just wake up one day and realize it's there, and has been for a while.”

My blush returned. “...I would be lucky then, ina Morag… You have a good son.”

“Pah!” She exclaimed then waved her hand at me. “Now away with you, mo shibakin. Your youth has drained mine, and I must rest now.” She smacked me lightly with her cane as I moved to stand. “But come back soon, yes?” A familiar grin settled on her lips. “I would know more about my new child. And bring your sister!” She sighed. “It would do an old heart good to see a child’s face in this palace again.”

I bowed low at the waist, and her hand came up. Patting my head lightly. “As you wish, ina Morag. I will do what I can.”

“Toksor, mo shibakin.” She called lightly after me as I made my way to the door.

Grier waited anxiously in the hallway beyond, pacing back and forth. He jumped at the sound of the door opening, and rushed over quickly as I stepped out.

“How did it go? Are you alright? What did she say?”

I shook my head, slowly closing the door behind me, trying to settle my swirling thoughts. “Well, she was right about one thing at least.”

He peered up at me, his anxiousness settling into lines at the corners of his eyes. “What’s that?”

I hid my smile as I turned to stride down the hall. “Your sleeves are ridiculous.”

...

UPDATE: Part seven HERE

[goldenfawnwriting]

Birds of a Feather- Hawks pic pt 3

Summary: Finch is the pro hero Hawks’ personal assistant. As they get closer in their relationship will romance blossom or be cut down by their jobs? 

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF ASSAULT AND ATTEMPTED SEXUAL ASSAULT

As Finch prepared for the night out she sighed. Work had become so complicated as she could feel herself developing a crush on her boss. Not only was he attractive, to say the least, he was charming, kind, and all out spoiling her for no reason. It was mildly suspicious but honestly she couldn’t help but love the attention. She just wondered if it would end in heartbreak, or even her out of a job.

She decided to wrap her hair up with the hair pin he got her, smiling to herself as she pushed it into her fawn brown locks. She had changed out of her work clothes and into something more suitable; a cute, black miniskirt, and a peacock green, silk blouse that collared around her throat, the small button at the back of her neck securing it. She contemplated for a moment on what shoes she would wear before deciding on her regular black work heels. They were plain enough to suffice. As she looked in the mirror she wondered if it was too much, the colors too bright. The blouse was one she had gotten as a gift, she couldn’t remember from who, but she didn’t wear it often. She was more for muted earth tones than flashy, vibrant hues. She felt comfortable blending in with the crowd.

She grabbed her small, cross-body bag as she left, locking her apartment door and pushing her phone and lipstick into her purse before getting to her car. The bar she was meeting Asami at was a little more popular than she was used to but she couldn’t help the thrill that sat deep in her stomach. She hadn’t had a fun night out in a while. 

When she finally arrived and parked she looked around for her friend, finally spotting her leaned against the brick of the building, stunning as ever. Asami was her friend since they were in school, she had followed her to UA but unlike Asami, she didn’t become a pro hero. The best she was suited for was a sidekick, and honestly, she just wasn’t interested. 

As she approached her friend she took in her appearance. Her short, dark blue hair swayed around her chin, her silver framed glasses pushed up on her nose. She smiled as she noted they were wearing the same style, black skirt, only Asami sported a tight, long sleeve grey shirt that she happened to recognize as a body suit she had previously borrowed. Her shoes were a cute suede bootie, grey in color with a bit of fringe on the zipper. She looked adorable.

“Kore! I haven’t seen you in forever! You look amazing!”

Finch laughed. they had seen each other two weeks ago. She embraced her friend momentarily.

“Asami, you look better than ever!”

She smiled as Asami lead her inside and to the bar, ordering them fruity cocktails. As they waited they caught up on each others jobs, Asami’s cat, and all the drama in the workplace. This is when Hawks came up.

“So I heard you got promoted to Hawks’ PA. How’s that going for you?”

“Really wonderfully actually. I can’t help but think he’s cute but besides that the works pretty easy, nothing amazing.”

Asami smiled and pinched her cheek.

“Ok, I have to ask, I know you didn’t buy that hair pin for yourself.”

Finch stuttered as she replied, unsure of wether she should tell her best friend. She took a sip of her cocktail before replying.

“Well, uh, he actually got it for me...”

Asami looked at her in surprise before giggling. 

“He’s got the hots for you Kore!”

Finch rolled her eyes and waved her friend off.

“Doubt it, he’s the most popular bachelor in the region, why would he want someone as plain jane as me?”

Asami rolled her eyes at her more than oblivious friend. 

“Kore, you know I’m not the greatest at all that birdie stuff, but I’m telling you, animal planet has taught me a thing or two, and he’s getting you shiny gifts. He’s flirting!”

Finch sighed at her use of her real name and took a big gulp of her drink.

“I just don’t know if I want to act on it since we work together y’know? It would complicate things and I could lose my job, I have security there, I’ve worked there forever, I don’t want to lose it.”

Asami shrugged her off, ordering them shots. 

“I think you're overthinking it honestly. I doubt anything like that would happen. He’s your boss, who is anyone gonna tell? He owns the agency!”

They laughed together and the night progressed quickly.

^^^

Asami’s freckles were twinkling and her face was reddened with drunkness as Finch saw her into a cab and on her way home. She stood on the sidewalk outside of the bar and sighed, admiring her hero friend. Asami was the pro hero Starlight, boasting the wonderful power of being able to manipulate the appearance of starlight to the human eye. Since the sun was a star, she could blind anyone to the light but, her power stopped short of inside work, as the sun was invisible from inside buildings without windows.

Finch looked around slowly. Her world was spinning from the drinking and she sincerely doubted she would be ok to drive home. As she contemplated a cab she noticed a suspicious man standing down the way from her. He was fidgeting weirdly and keeping his head down, making Finch wonder what his deal was. She tried to shake off the weird feeling and decided she would sit in her car while she phoned a cab but as she went to walk towards her car the man moved with her. She swallowed hard, trying to blink away some of her drunkness to no avail. Maybe she was being too nervous?

When the man continued to follow her as she passed the parking lot she realized the hard truth of the matter. This guy was up to something, and she did not want to find out what. She continued to walk, thinking out her options. She didn’t have much combat training and what she did, she had forgotten long ago when she decided hero work wasn’t for her. If she stopped and confronted the guy it could aggravate him more, but if she kept walking she’d soon run out of places to go. She’d be lost, and possibly in more danger.

She used her phone to look at the reflection of the man behind her. She noticed his hands were shoved deep in his pockets and his face was turned down, hiding his appearance from her. She couldn’t tell what color his clothes were since she was looking through a reflection, but she could tell he was wearing jeans, a baggy, simple jacket, and a baseball cap. 

She tapped away on her phone, with no one to text, she was trying her best to make it look like she was talking to someone. In her other hand she was maneuvering her keys to fit between her fingers, sticking out between them, the only weapon she would be provided. 

As the man gained on her she had a sudden thought and tapped on Hawks’ contact, starting to call him right as the man’s hand gripped her shoulder. He whipped her around and grabbed her upper arm with his other hand, pulling her closer to the wall of the building beside her. She yelped at the sudden assault, dropping her phone on the sidewalk as he forced her against the wall, slamming her front into the brick before smashing her hand not once, but twice against the wall, until she dropped her keys. 

“Who the hell are you?!”

She yelled as she let her wings burst open, pushing against the man. He groaned in surprise as her wings moved him off of her and let her whip around to face him. He came back at her though, grabbing her upper arms and pinning her to the building wall.

“Let me go you son of-”

She was abruptly punched in the jaw, and hard at that. She lost her train of thought, her mind reeling from the impact. She took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure as he grabbed her throat and pulled her shirt up. Her eyes started to tear up from the pressure around her neck before wrenching her knee up into the groin of the man. He let her go, going to his knees like a tree falling in a forest. When she got a good look of the man she realized that he was much larger than her, his arms alone twice the size of her torso and something was weird... Something under his skin was pulsating, the skin on his hands moving with vigor. It was as if he was turning into something else...

She made her get away, scooping up her phone in the rush and fumbling it, almost dropping it again as she realized Hawks was on the other end. 

“Finch! Tell me where you are!”

“H-hawks-!”

She was cut off as she was grabbed around the waist, the man catching her easily and ripping her skirt up her hips.

“Two blocks south of the Oasis bar!”

She yelled in a desperate attempt for Hawks to be able to find her. She wasn’t sure if he would hear her from as far away as her phone was, once again dropped on the sidewalk, but she prayed he did as she took another hit, this time to the mouth.

She felt her lip gush with the new wound and internally lamented for wearing such a nice shirt that would now be ruined. She tried to think her way through the situation and stay calm but the way he was shoving her skirt up and trying to rip off her shirt, she was anything but calm. She threw her elbow back, not knowing where she was aiming but, hoping it would hit the man. 

Luckily it did, her elbow hitting his stomach hard, making him fold over, groaning loudly. She spread her wings again, trying to push him back away as far as she could. She felt something pull in her right wing and squeaked, the pain sharp. As she sputtered blood from her lip she took off again, forgetting about her phone and turning the corner quickly, hoping to run into another popular area.

Her heels scraped against the sidewalk and she turned another corner, slipping and tumbling down, her knees scraping against the sidewalk. She didn’t pause, pulling herself back up and starting to run again when she noted a second pair of footsteps behind her. As she peaked around her shoulder she didn’t realize she was running into an dead end. 

He had cornered her finally and her breathing picked up as she began to really freak out. 

“D-don’t do this p-please-”

“Oh no I’ve got you now~”

He growled, moving in and shoving her to the ground, her head hitting the pavement and a headache blossoming. She groaned but tried to kick at the man as he pinned her down, starting to grab at her clothes again. She screamed as loud as she could for help, feeling her voice become rougher with each scream and her losing energy.

Suddenly, she felt a gust of wind and heard the flap of wings, and just as the man ripped the seam of her underwear, tossing them to the side, he was thrown off of her. She was dazed, looking over to find Hawks on top of the man,  and it looked as if he was beating the ever loving hell out of him. 

It wasn’t long before she lost consciousness.

^^^

When Finch awoke she was still laying on the cold pavement, unmoving and stiff. She blinked a couple times, trying to remember what had happened, when she noticed the red and blue flashing lights. 

“Finch!”

A warm hand grabbed her arm, pulling her up as she groaned. Her knees nearly buckled but strong arms enveloped her, setting her up on a cushioned gurney. Her eyesight was a little blurry but she caught sight of the feathery blonde hair and knew he had came. 

“H-hawks-”

“Hey baby bird, you’re alright~”

He purred, trying to comfort her as he caressed the bruise on her jaw. Paramedics were moving her towards the ambulance and he knew he wouldn’t be able to go with her. She began to weep, her gentle sobs breaking his heart. 

“Hawks d-don’t leave me-”

She sobbed, grabbing onto his arm weakly. He didn’t want to leave her but he wouldn’t be permitted near her if he wasn’t related after she was put in the ambulance. As they lifted the gurney into the ambulance he stuttered. 

“I-I’m her b-boyfriend-”

The paramedic ushered him in quickly, closing the doors behind them. He wondered how much trouble he would get in for that little lie, the commission would find out, he was sure. As soon as the rumor got around he would be screwed, and she would probably be fired. He felt bad but, looking over her injuries made him feel worse. He had a gut feeling earlier that tonight would be horrific and man was he right. 

As they arrived to the hospital and brought her into a room he followed closely behind, even though he knew, the longer he stayed the more trouble he would cause. 

^^^

When they finally were released he walked beside Finch to the front of the hospital. It only took about 30 minutes for them to take her statement and treat her wounds before letting her go. He helped her out of the hospital doors before looking at her. 

“U-uh.. Did you want me to take you home then?”

She nodded silently, she hadn’t said much since after she recounted the events of the night to the police. He didn’t reply, only coming to stand in front of her.

“I’m gonna pick you up now, if that’s ok?”

She nodded again and he scooped her up, her arms going to hold around his neck as he took to the sky. He noticed her give a little squeak but didn’t mention it as he asked for directions.

“U-uh... it’s apartment 206 on the east part of the city.. Sakura street.”

She whispered to him, looking around in awe. This was the first time she had ever been flying. He got them there quickly, stepping onto her balcony before setting her down. Silence fell over them before she finally spoke.

“H-hawks, I know it’s in-inappropriate... but, would you mind staying awhile?”

She asked. He blushed hard, taken aback by her question. He would’ve never expected such a wish from her. He found himself rubbing the back of his neck and contemplating what he should do but ultimately, he gave in.

“Sure sweetheart.”

She opened the sliding glass door and let him into the apartment, turning on lights as she went through. The first thing he noticed was the smell of crisp apples, her whole apartment smelled sweet with the scent, she must’ve had a candle or something. As he followed her through he noticed next how clean she was. Everything was put away and honestly, she didn’t own many nice things. If he had to guess what the nicest thing she owned was, it would have to be the hairpin he gifted her. Not that the apartment wasn’t nice, it was just very middle-lower class. He felt kinda guilty all of the sudden. 

“I’m sorry it isn’t much, you’re probably used to much more...”

She trailed off, looking away. He shook his head at her, smiling. 

“No birdie, it’s perfect!”

He reassured her. She gave a small smile and excused herself to go freshen up, leaving himself to his devices in her living room. As he snooped around he noticed an abundance of throw blankets stocked up in the corner and gave a shy smile. How cute, she tends to nest. Then he made his way into her kitchen and listened quietly to figure out where she was before shyly opening her cabinets and fridge. Half of him was genuinely curious as to what she preferred to eat and the other half of him was just nosy. He did realize pretty quickly that she had absolutely no meat.

When she returned he met her in the living room again, face warm from the guilt of snooping around. 

“You can leave if you want, I know you’re probably a busy man..”

“Oh no, haha! Actually I was just sitting around at home so, I’m not in a rush sweetheart~”

She bit her lip gently and he nearly melted at her expression. Even looking so roughed up she was still beautiful. Her smeared makeup was gone now, only the bruises remaining, and she was wearing a cute pajama set, just a short pair of lounge shorts and a baggy t-shirt. 

“Well, if you don’t have much to do tomorrow did you want to hang out for awhile?”

He nodded instantly but inwardly knew he should be going. He was only going to get her into more and more trouble. She lead him to her couch anyway, turning on the tv and grabbing a throw blanket. 

“You’ve got a lot of those huh?”

She gave a small slap to his shoulder and he snickered, poking fun at her collection of blankets.

“Don’t be like that, I’m sure you do the same thing~”

She murmured, settling down on the couch as a random show played. Hawks pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her. She leaned into him, sighing and closing her eyes before a stray tear ran down her cheek. 

“T-thank you-”

He shushed her, stroking her hair as she began to sob again. He pulled her into his lap and hugged her tightly, wrapping her blanket around her. 

“Don’t thank me Dove, it’s what I do, I’m just glad you thought to call me.”

He mumbled, stroking her hair and combing through it with his fingers, 

“I know it’s been a rough night and you’re probably still feeling a little tipsy. Did you want me to go so you could get some rest?”

She stiffened at his offer and her tiny hands gripped his jacket before weakening. 

“I-if you need to go that’s fine...”

She got off of him abruptly and started to make her way to the back hallway, to where he was sure was her bedroom. 

“Aw, c’mon Birdie, don’t leave me here alone~”

She paused and he saw a hint of a blush on her cheeks from where he was turned around, watching her over the back of the couch. 

“T-then come with me...”

He hesitated for a moment before his brain actually processed what she meant, her wings shivering slightly. When he did finally catch up he couldn’t help but stumble off the couch, straighten himself to try and save some of his dignity, and follow her to her bedroom. 

[chocoships]

Egoshiptober day 4 and 5: Cold or Heat + Flirt

Pairing: Antiaverage, mermaid au (Anti is human and Chase’s the creature)

Summary: Anti wakes up slightly irritated by the cold, but a visit from the merman that he’s grown to be fond of might just be enough to make him forget about that.

Anti didn’t mind the life on the sea.

It wasn’t an easy or luxurious life by all means, you had to put down a lot more efforts and use all the self-sufficiency at your disposal if you wanted to make it out here alone, but even for all the hardship this lifestyle had to offer he still wouldn’t give it away for an easier life on land. His boat was his home and he loved it for the most part. 

But, if there was one thing that Anti wasn’t a fan of, it had to be the cold. When the water turned frigid and the wind became ruthless, the cold air seeping everywhere into his living space, it made him want to stay bundled up in the comfort of his bed and wait for it all to pass.

And it was in this exact situation that Anti woke up, sniffing and frowning at the rising sunshine that seemed to glare at him through his small window.

He groaned as he raised the covers above his head, a weak attempt to block out the light that had gently woken him up. The option to go back to sleep was enticing, he could just close his eyes again and let the fleeting warmth of his bed take him away back into sleep for a bit longer, but Anti knew that there was no use in delaying the inevitable. It was the beginning of fall after all, the temperature would only keep steadily dropping as time went on and whining about the cold wouldn’t do any good. There was work to be done today, too, so the sooner he sucked it up, the better.

With some reluctance, Anti got out of bed. A faint shiver ran down his spine as he threw aside the covers from himself. He didn’t waste any time getting dressed, throwing together a warm outfit fit for the weather. He adjusted a thick, brightly colored scarf around his chin before walking out of his bedroom and climbing his way outside.

The strong wind felt like a slap in the face as he opened the door and stepped out. The sun was still rising, not quite high up yet in the bright unobscured expanse of the sky, but Anti could still feel the weak warmth of it upon the small sliver of uncovered skin he had.

It felt nice to simply soak it up for a short minute, right up until another gust of wind hit him again. Anti sighed, burrowing his face deeper into his scarf as he walked toward his first task of the day.

He shooed away a few seagulls from the deck as he approached his net, briefly inspecting it before throwing it in the water. He watched it slowly sink down with an uninterested gaze, his mind more preoccupied with considering the option of getting himself a warm cup of coffee. Maybe he could nurse it long enough for the morning to warm up a little bit. That’d be nice.

He’d already made his choice, taking the first steps to go back inside, but he stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed a familiar green blur starting to swim up from the depth.  

Anti leaned against the railing of the boat as he watched the vague shape become less and less distorted by the water, right up until a head full of pale green hair emerged from it, the body and flashy tail attached to it clear as day. A smile teased the edge of Anti’s lips as Chase placed his hand against the hull, trying to gain a bit more traction before his other hand reached to brush away the soaked bangs from his face. Anti waved at him, trying to catch his attention as he blinked away the discomfort of the reflected sunlight directly hitting him in his eyes. The merman eventually noticed him above, quickly waving back and shooting Anti a smile of his own. The man slightly shifted in unease at the sight; rows of sharp needle-like teeth glinted in the morning light, the faintest tinge of pink staining the edge of their overall pristine white.

It was always so easy for Anti to forget that Chase was indeed a highly skilled predator of the sea. It had scared him in the beginning, especially when they both didn’t know much about the other and their respective intention. Back when Chase was simply a mischievous anomaly that insisted on pestering him on a regular basis. But now, Anti couldn’t see him in that light anymore. Trying to retain any amount of fear was hard when Chase turned out to be almost as friendly and excitable as a puppy, always so curious about Anti and the little tidbits he would give about his life on occasions.

It really didn’t take long for the distrust to turn into fondness, and maybe… a little something more than that. 

“Goodmorning!” Chase chirped, his bright colored tail coming into clear view as he let himself float on his back, swimming lazily to keep up against the waves. 

“ ‘Morning,” Anti replied, a relaxed smile stuck on his face as he watched him float toward the lines of the net.

“Hey, why don’t you come up here instead of scaring away all the fishes from my net?" 

Anti already expected Chase to completely disregard his request, and he was only proven right when he simply smirked and dove back under the water instead of listening. He shook his head, a short laugh escaping him while he watched the merman’s silhouette twirl around and pass under the blurry shape of the net. Anti let out a faint “come on,” as Chase swam back up, loudly splashing water everywhere on purpose as his upper body emerged from it. 

"Mmmh I don’t know, the water’s pretty good over there.” Chase brushed once again his soaked hair from his face, looking directly up toward Anti. “How about you join me instead?” He said with a cheeky grin stuck on his face. 

Anti was well used to the merman’s antics by this point. Anytime the chance was offered to him, Chase would ask the man to join him in the water. Just for a pleasant swim, simply a quick little dip, only a short dive into the water with him he’d say. Anti had humored him on a few occasions on his more carefree days, but today the request only made him shiver at the idea of jumping in the frigid sea.

“You want me to die or something? I’m already freezing and I highly doubt the water is any better.” Anti shuddered as he shot an accusatory glare toward Chase, who was only giggling as he kept floating on his back around the net.

“Come oooon, please?” Chase whined, innocently blinking up to Anti “It’s not so bad once you get used to it, and if you’re so cold like you say… I’m sure I could find a way to warm you up,” He added with a wink.

Anti could feel himself blushing, his whole body suddenly overtaken by warmth. He wasn’t sure what Chase meant by finding a way to warm him up but his mind definitely didn’t waste any time before spinning some good guesses as to what this could entail. Anti cleared his throat, trying to ignore the ideas that his imagination kept supplying to him. He leaned further onto the railing, hoping that Chase wouldn’t notice the redness on his face under his scarf.  

“It’s going to take more than your pretty looks if you really want me overboard, Chasey,”

It was now Chase’s turn to blush as Anti caught up to what just spilled out of his mouth.

“Pretty looks?” Chase asked, his voice was quiet but something else lurked right beneath his tone. Hope, maybe? The man couldn’t decipher the tone, his mind currently too busy short circuiting. Anti stammered, unable to get any words out as he felt himself starting to overheat all over. His previously cozy attire now felt suffocating. Before he could find any clarity to speak, Chase spoke up once again in that uncertain quiet tone. 

“Well, you’ve got some good looks as well… handsome."  

They both stood still in silence as they each processed in their own ways the nickname.

Chase was almost fully back in the water, only his eyes still peeked out above it. Meanwhile, Anti gripped the railing of the boat as if his life depended on it, his knuckle turning white against the cold metal.

“I- I, uh…” Anti blinked once, twice. His wide eyes stared directly into Chase’s own. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest as his brain struggled to think of anything else to say. The silence between them grew more and more tense as the seconds slowly ticked by, and he eventually caved in.

Anti straightened up, his hands sliding off from the railing. "I’m going to go get myself a cup of coffee.” He blurted out, mentally screaming at himself as he slowly stepped away from the ledge. Chase emerged slightly out of the water, an air of confusion crossing his expression.

“Oh okay, I’m… uh, I’ll just climb my way up while you’re gone then,”

“Great!” Anti squeaked out, taking one last glance toward the merman before walking away, wasting no time before ripping away the smothering scarf from his face.

He really hoped that Chase would soon forget this total mess of a morning, because there was no doubt in his mind that this moment would forever haunt him for years to come.

[maulsscream]

(gif by obimauls)

MUTUAL TEMPTATION Maul x Ahsoka

This was just going to be a M fic but y’all are making me write another E because the muzzle has usyou feeling things. I 100% agree. Watch me and my thirst traps delivering another banger. Bless @mandalora for the newest addition to the thirst pile.

Please assume Maul had his legs chopped off above the knees for obvious reasons. It’s not rated E for nothing loves.

Disclaimer: as I’ve stated before please assume that Ahsoka is a fully grown adult woman in all my fics. Thanks.

SUMMARY Rated E - 1,815 words

Maul is a lot more agreeable when he’s tied up and gagged. Ahsoka can see the gears turning in his head as he tries to figure what her game plan is. She decides to make him wonder some more.

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

Her lightsaber was pointed down at his jugular as Maul sat with his arms locked behind him back, tied up to his elbows by some sort of device from another time. His mouth was clamped shut by the muzzle he had been fitted with on Mandalore. Truly the Mandalorians had a taste for the eccentrics and the barbaric. It was all a little overboard, even for him. The binding of his arms and ankles he could understand, but the muzzle? Were they afraid he would somehow talk his way out of the justice Ahsoka wanted to inflict on him?

The low buzzing of the lightsaber caught his attention if only for a second. His eyes followed the blinding blue length of it back up to her face. Her intimidation techniques were weak at best. If her goal was to keep him from trying anything rash, she could have simply kept to the bounds he was in. But the look behind her eyes spoke of something else. Maul arched an eyebrow in a questioning manner. What exactly was her game plan here?

“You might think you know everything about me, but you’re wrong.”

Maul doubted that. He had searched the clone’s head thoroughly to gain every drop of intel he could about the young woman. It had been fascinating. She was as arrogant as she was headstrong. Of course there had been no place for her with the Jedi. She had a thirst for adventure. Had she finished her training under Skywalker, the thrill of protecting her precious republic would have never satisfied her just like it hadn't satisfied him. She had a greater purpose.

“Now don’t try anything.”

She said as she leaned her face in close threateningly, the tip of her lightsaber forcing him to tilt his chin up towards her. She turned her wrist just so and he could see in her eyes she was debating whether or not he deserved justice after all. There was darkness there, a potential he had seen during their duel. The conclusions he had drawn from the trooper’s memories of her were correct. Ahsoka Tano was neither good nor evil. She served no one. She simply was.

She saw his eyes glimmer with anticipation and delight as if he were daring her to just get it over with. Kill him or free him. Those were his options, not the ones she had picked for him. The blade of her lightsaber disappeared at the press of a button and she placed it back at her hip. Maul followed the motion carefully. He couldn't wait to see where this was all going.

What fun!

She was still too close for either of their comfort, although the zabrak couldn’t complain much. He hadn’t been subject to any torture yet but he guessed that might have been the reason she was in his holding cell. He had heard her sending his guards away before entering the room. It wouldn’t be her style but with no one to answer for but herself, it might have been her last desperate attempt at getting answers. Still, there was one last option she hadn't tried if torture was her last resort...

To his surprise, Ahsoka lowered herself in a squatting position in front of him and Maul had to strain to maintain eye contact. With the very restricted range of motion he possessed, it was almost impossible to see what she was doing down at that level. His legs spread further apart and he squirmed to sit up straight. There was an attempt at leaning his upper body forwards but the jolt of her hand to her weapon stopped him dead in his tracks.

She held his full attention.

“I hear these came as a reward.”

The former Jedi said as she knocked on the mechanical part of his leg with her knuckle. Maul rolled his eyes. The antagonising game would only last so long. He could see in her eyes she wanted more than to just look at his prosthetics.

Her hands encircled them and ran up their length ever so slowly, feeling every tiny scratches and small indents in the metal underneath her palms. For the first time that he could recall, Maul wished he had sensations in his lower legs. Just so that he could feel what she was depriving him of. Clearly this was her game. She would only give him so much, just a taste that was enough to feed the fire and make him long for more.

Her hands stopped at his knees, tapping her fingernails against the junction of flesh and metal. Maul caught himself wanting to feel those nails against his skin, across his body. Seduction tricks had never worked on him, he was not that kind of being. He was too smart to be so easily distracted by hollow promises and lustful glances. No. This wasn't it.

This wasn't a trick. Maul could feel it through the force. This was genuine. The attention he was paying her doubled, his senses sharpening and his psyche honing in on her presence.

Ahsoka used his knees as leverage to rise back up on her feet, causing Maul to tense in anticipation. She pressed on the his legs harder, reminding him of just how restrained and uncomfortable he was in his shackles. Was she expecting him to plea for his freedom back?

He chuckled, a soundless rumble that shook his whole body. She could read how amused he was by the way he was devouring her with his eyes. Her web was tightening around him. Whether he knew where she was headed or not with that line of interrogation, she didn't care. She only cared about him lowering his defences enough for her to penetrate his mind.

“I wonder... what’s going on up there?”

Ahsoka brought her fingertips to his temples and focused. She could feel him resisting, his mind straining not to let her in. He was going to fight her all the way, building walls as she dug deeper. Her jaw was clenched and her eyebrows furrowed. Fine, if he wanted to play the hard way so could she.

She climbed on top of him, making sure to drag the motion of her pelvis closing the gap between their bodies as much as possible. His breathing was quickening from both the mental blocks he was putting up and the sudden act of intimacy, his chest heaving. She had no trouble fitting her small frame onto his lap. He was oddly comfortable and warm, a reaction she guessed she had caused.

Maul continued to observe her with carnal fascination, the sound of his hearts loud in his ears. She was persistent. He knew what she would be searching for inside his thoughts, but he could give her something else. Something she might have wanted even more. Surely the thrill of the forbidden fruit would outweigh her need of answers.

Ahsoka had to focus on the task at hand. They could have fun later. As much as she wanted to see more of the tattoos littering his chest, she wanted answers first. She squeezed her legs harder around his waist and gave one last push into his mind. Her hands were fully wrap around his head now, her fingers toying with the release of the muzzle. Perhaps the promise of a reward would make him take the bait.

That he did.

Maul caved in all at once, his eyes closing as her forehead touched his. His thoughts were the definition of organised chaos. There was a sea of pain and suffering that Ahsoka quickly waived in favour of a less threatening and much more enticing dark corner of his mind. What was he hiding in there?

She had been baited, too. Her need for answers suddenly flew out the window. Maul focused his mind on the unspoken truth between them. She had just openly began her little dance of seduction leaving him barely any room to reciprocate given his physical situation. 

But that’s what you like, isn’t it?

His thoughts were louder than a wampa as they echoed inside her own mind. She didn’t have to focus so much on making sense out of all of the glimpses of could-have-been he was showing her. The picture was clear enough.

In their conjoined minds, Ahsoka was clutching the top of his tunic, their bodies desperately pressing together. He was still tied up at the exception of his muzzle that had been discarded on the floor. Maul was kissing and biting along her exposed shoulder and throat, leaving marks on her feverish skin. He wanted to claim her just as much as he wanted to be made hers. In the vision, although she wasn’t sure now what was fiction and what was reality, one of her hands ran down his front and shakily entered his clothes, past the large belt and into his pants to grasp his length.

Her head was spinning. It was hard to focus when she could see from both of their perspectives. When she could feel both of their sensations and needs. It felt like an eternity before she reopened her eyes to find herself in the same exact position as the vision, only the muzzle was still on this time.

Ahsoka could feel him throbbing in her hand, a satisfied look in his eyes. She didn’t hesitate as she started moving her hand around him. Maul’s eyes were glued to hers, watching ever little change in her expression. The slight curl of her lips speaking of victory. His pupils were blown wide open with want. Ahsoka could see his breathing fogging up the metal of the gag. It would have been cruel to leave now. After all, she would be left begging for more too. But she could take care of herself.

She nuzzled her face into his neck, pressing a couple of kisses there but stopping when she heard his head thud against the panel behind him. Maul’s eyes rolled back into his skull and his hips rocked into her hand with a loud groan. He was at her complete mercy and there was something to be said about just how much he was eagerly giving in.

Her movements slowed before completely stopping. Maul understood the nature of the game. Ahsoka removed her hand from his pants, determined to make this last. She tucked his clothes back onto his large frame properly, giving a tug at his restraints to make sure they were still fully in place before gracefully unlocking her legs from around his waist and standing up. It left Maul admirative. She could show more self control than he had anticipated. Next time, he’d have to do better.

She’d visit him again now that she knew he was pliable.

Maul gave her a look that let her know he was looking forward to it.

[hypnoticwinter]

Down the Rabbit Hole part 12

“Mak,” Peter is saying to me, but I’m way, way too busy heaving to pay any attention. I can’t get the image of the fucking amalgam out of my head, writhing bodies glued together, pictures of agony. My insides shudder again and more of my dinner spills out into the pool, but I have my eyes screwed shut. If they were open it’d be worse, I could see the vomit drifting on the current and I’d puke more, but with them shut I can see the amalgam.

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter thickly. I spit, trying to clear the taste from my mouth; it doesn’t help much. I can feel how tacky and sticky my tank top has gotten beneath my suit all of a sudden and I reach up, unzip it about partway. I’ve been so damn stupid, I never should have fucked Peter, it wasn’t the time, it wasn’t the place, it was a bad omen…

I can feel my lips draw back and a laugh, a mad, insane laugh, scrambling up my throat, but this isn’t a time for laughter. I want to stay here bent over a little while longer, my hands on my knees, but Peter reaches back blindly and taps at me. “Mak,” he says again, and I squeeze my eyes shut and then open them and spin around, glare at him. “What the hell is so important?” I start to bark, but then I see what Peter’s looking at and I stop thinking.

The amalgam isn’t dead; it’s right there, rearing up at us, a mess of bodies, animal, bird, even a few fish, and people, so many people. I look upwards at the ruined mess of the ceiling and realize that all of these people must have gotten stuck there, must have gotten trapped in a digestive gland in their mad panic to escape, they must have slipped under a fence somewhere and ventured out into the Pit when the convulsions started, trying to find their way out.

The amalgam is looking at us. I don’t know what kind of conscience lives in there, nor how many, but none of its gazes are even remotely human. I stare at the eyes set deep in the sockets of an old, grubby-looking man, a thin goatee coating his limp mouth, and he looks back at me. One of his eyes has a thin trickle of blood leaking from it and in the other it seems as though the pupil has popped as though it were the yolk of an egg and is now merging downward, staining the iris like black ink…that isn’t how pupils work, though, so –

“Help me,” the man whispers. I see his mouth move, I barely hear him speak over the lapping water and the sound of very close, very heavy breathing that I realize after a moment is my own.

“Oh my god,” I say.

“Makado, we need to –“

I can hear more of them now, begging, pleading, crying, confused, angry. They’re all starting to wake up. I can see horror on the face of one of them as she looks down, as she looks at her new body, jutting flopping halfway out of the flank of the roughly quadruped amalgam. I can see the face of a bear, its neck and shoulders free of the rest of the creature, turn and with purpose bite into the neck of the man growing just below it, sending a geyser of blood into the air, making half a dozen various faces cry out in pain.

I’ve already taken a step or two backwards and I reach out and tug at Peter’s sleeve, but before I can do much more than jostle him I hear a noise, a small, subtle noise, somewhat like a pin dropping, and I look around before I realize that I didn’t actually hear it, it was just there popping into existence in the middle of my head. There’s a trickle of liquid down my upper lip and I reach up and wipe at it and my hand comes back daubed in red and I realize that the nosebleed is back, whatever the hell is going on is back, and fear stabs me in the gut and shakes me.

Peter finally turns and without a word I turn as well, and we sprint to the door to the Dome, pressing out of the oversized double-door shoulder to shoulder. I can feel my head throbbing in time with my heartbeat, each pounding pulse sending another minute trickle of blood down my face, but I can’t worry about that right now – the amalgam is stomping after us, crying out a myriad of voices, calling for us to come back, begging us with palpable anguish to come back and help it, telling us that we can’t leave it here like this. We make it to the stairs before something seems to change, a stealthy sort of decision comes over the amalgam’s voice, and it tells us in a thousand different voices that it won’t let us leave it here like this, and the way they say the same thing but echo in a discordant unity, some ending early, some trailing off menacingly, sends a chill scurrying up my spine, and I shake my head, the blood from my nose spattering.

“Goddam it,” I say, glaring back down the stairs at the monster. We’ve managed to get a little bit of a lead; despite its size it’s able to fit up the stairs, it can compress itself. I heard a few different voices cry out as it did, along with the snapping of bones, but clearly that isn’t bothering it too much. It’s still down there, seething, digging its many, many hands into the chain-link grating surrounding the stairwell, surging upwards at us. It stumbles and falls but a thousand feet catch it, it missteps but a thousand hands push it upwards again.

“Come on,” Peter tells me, grabbing my hand and tugging me upwards.

“Peter,” I say, my voice heavy, “where the hell are we going to go? The –“

“No time,” he says. “We’ll figure it out when we get there.”

The amalgam is only two landings below us now. We make it another three, it makes it another two.

“We’re gaining on it,” I tell Peter. “Oh!”

“What is it?” he starts to ask, but I see that same dopey blank look steal over his face, same as before, I know that it’s happening again. My forearm is twitching, all the muscles in it contracting seemingly at random, my fingers flashing curious gang signs beyond my control. My foot whips forward and I nearly fall but Peter, with a great effort, reaches out and steadies me.

There’s a whining scream from below us; it sounds confused and piteous. It seems the amalgam can feel it as well; maybe that’s why it hadn’t fallen upon us the instant we’d entered the Dome, maybe it had been knocked out by the - by the whatever it was.

I spit; my head is throbbing and that combined with the nosebleed is making me feel glassy, like if I move too quickly I’ll shatter. “Keep going,” I say, trying not to let my mind linger on how ragged my voice sounds. I can feel my heart pounding in my throat when I swallow. We make it another flight before it gets too intense and we have to catch our breaths, try to control our rebellious bodies. I keep laughing, just like I had before, the sound ripping itself out of my mouth even though I try to stop it. The convulsions have spread down the entire left side of my body and I have to hug my leg to myself to keep it from jabbing me in my chest.

An unpleasant thought occurs to me and I wonder for a moment whether this is what the Pit feels like. Those convulsions haven’t stopped; if anything they’ve gotten a little stronger. Not enough to knock us off our feet like before, but if I put my hand flat on the ground I can feel the world rocking beneath me.

Peter is laying on the grimy floor of the landing, staring at the ceiling above; I glance up while I still have full control of my eyes. We’re about three landings from the top, and then from there it’s through the bathhouse, and then upwards…

My shoulderblades nudge each other and then my back arches. I manage to grimace before my mouth twists into a snarl. I can feel a very strange sensation in my mind, something abstract, like sparks flying, like what I imagine a short circuit might feel like. “Peter,” I moan. He looks over at me, utterly blank. There’s another groaning whine from below us but I can’t make myself get up to look over the edge of the railing to see if the amalgam’s recovered yet.

“Help me,” I tell him, reaching out for him as best I can, and he rolls, his face contorted with some unknowable internal effort, and slowly, carefully, comes to his knees. He gets to me and scoops me into his arms and even in spite of everything I feel a delicious little thrill in the pit of my stomach as he rises, gripping on to me tightly as another sweeping convulsion pounds at me, stretching my leg out and then bringing it snapping back into his arm. He grunts and I wince as best I can. “I’m sorry,” I mutter.

“’S’okay,” he slurs. I look at him carefully but I can’t tell how this is affecting him exactly. It makes me wonder what’s going on up on the surface, whether it’s only happening inside the Pit or –

There’s a sound like shattering glass and I look around wildly for a moment before Peter stumbles and we nearly fall. “Goddam it,” he growls. The blank look is gone; in its place is worry, fear, determination, a rapid flutter of emotions like he’s making up for lost time.

“You good?” I ask. He nods.

“Yes. Can you walk?”

He sets me down and I put weight on my legs gingerly, but when they don’t immediately betray me and send me flopping to the floor I flash him a thumbs-up. Below us the amalgam cries out, and we can hear the telltale crunching and skittering as it resumes its climb up the stairs, and then there is nothing to do but take one step at a time and hope that we remain faster than it is.

We manage to maintain our lead through the bathhouse, but it catches up when we emerge out into the long, heavy corridor that would ordinarily lead back to the LVC. It stands there, its ‘legs’ compressing outwards to bear the weight, bleeding blood and ichor from cuts and abrasions and bruises. Some of the pieces of it have succumbed already, I can tell; I see several men and women with their necks snapped, heads turned at odd, unnatural angles, made even worse from the way they sprout from the flesh of other people and other things halfway down. The ones left alive either whimper or moan or cry but a few, mostly the ones situated higher up, are still looking at us with something of the hunger they’d shown before, down in the Domes.

Amalgams aren’t known for longevity. A wolf bloodstream and immune system isn’t really happy with trying to hook up to a human one, or one that a bear uses. It can function for a time but infections and autoimmune responses are common. That’s what usually does the more stable amalgams in, the ones that have a regular enough body plan and enough coordination that they’re actually able to gather food.

There’s a tendency, supposedly, towards centralization, when an amalgam fuses together. You might have a dozen bodies flopping outwards like a grotesque pinecone, like the upper body of the one before us, glaring daggers at us down the corridor, but whatever it uses for a stomach to feed the many metabolisms each trying to survive as though they were still disparate units, that’s going to be somewhere inside it, somewhere important.

This is the biggest amalgam I’ve ever seen. Usually they’re pretty pathetic things, just a couple of animals fused together, unable to move, unable to do much more than frighten tourists. Even the larger ones usually aren’t much of a threat; it takes a lot of luck for the amalgam to fuse in such a way that it can actually move around in anything resembling an effective manner, and most of the time they’re unsuited for being the sort of ambush predators they’d need to be to thrive as unmotile lumps of flesh.

Usually.

“This thing’s going to be quicker than us on a straightaway,” I mutter to Peter out of the side of my mouth. He has his pistol out, holding it down at his hip, but I don’t think it’ll do much to the monster.

“This whole fucking corridor is a straightaway,” he mutters back.

“Please,” a dozen voices babble at us, a hundred chests heaving, greedily sucking down air.

“We need to go,” I say.

“Where the hell are we going to go?” Peter asks, glancing behind. It’s another couple hundred feet to the end of the corridor and with no turns, no corners, not even any debris laying around to put between us and the creature. This tunnel has weathered the convulsions remarkably well. “Even if we make it to the end of the corridor,” he points out, “we’d have to climb up the –“

“Accessway 34-B,” I tell him. “Goes straight to Bronchial.”

“And if it’s collapsed? It’s a dead end.”

“What other option do we have?” I ask, trying not to sound annoyed. I keep my eyes locked on the amalgam down the corridor, retreating when it advances. It seems unsure of the reinforced glass bottom of the corridor, prods at it gently as it moves, half its eyes and faces angled downwards to snuff at it. “We can’t climb up quick enough, we only have one kit, one axe, only a couple pitons. It’s either 34-B or nothing.”

“We could go through the Cord.”

I shake my head. “We’ll never make it there in time.”

The amalgam ripples, tremors running through its flanks, and ambles into a walking pace. Peter raises the gun.

“You’re just going to make it mad.”

“We’re running out of options,” he says.

“I don’t even have goddam earpro, you’re going to –“

The amalgam shrieks and rushes at us and terror seizes me in its jaws and shakes me around like a dog with a toy and Peter is shooting and it’s so goddam loud but I don’t care, there are more pressing issues at the moment, and I seize him once he’s run the magazine dry and the gun is just clicking uselessly when he pulls the trigger. I look over at him and his eyes are wide and frightened and he looks nearly mad with fear and together we sprint down the corridor, our reinforced cleats making ugly, clanking noises on the glass, noises I’m terrified are going to turn into crunching shatters any moment with the force I’m putting down with each step.

As predicted, the amalgam doesn’t give a damn that it just ate twelve bullets straight to center mass, they might have stung but they certainly didn’t put it down, just made it angry. It scrambles now, extra ‘limbs’ branching off of it to seize onto the ceiling and the walls and hurl it forward even more quickly. It’s gaining on us; whatever lead we built up during our mad rush up the stairwell is evaporating too quickly. I still have my gun and a full magazine in it but although my hands are itching to pull it out and spin and just unload on the thing I’d lose way too much goddam time for no reward. I can feel a stitch in my side like how I’d imagine a knife would feel.

Next to me Peter’s labored breaths are getting more and more ragged, and then he stumbles and in an instant I’m a dozen feet ahead of him and turning, skidding to a halt, and I see the amalgam rearing up over him as he scrambles to his feet, but he isn’t goddam quick enough, nobody could be quick enough, and the amalgam reaches out and seizes him in one bifurcated, multiplicative appendage, hauling him off the ground. Peter screams and amid the scream I can hear his leg snap like a twig and something in me snaps as well and as an orifice begins to open in the amalgam’s center of mass, a ragged irregular hole, red-lined and wet and weeping, opening with a small pop of anticipation, I can hear a feral growl rumbling in my chest, a noise I wasn’t aware I was able to make, and then I find myself sprinting towards the amalgam and it pauses, reassessing the situation perhaps, and it drops Peter and he howls with pain but I can barely spare him a glance. I’ve drawn my utility knife, rarely used, out of its sheaf, hidden in a cleverly recessed slot in the ranger suit’s breastplate, and I’ve got it in a reverse grip, arm raised above my head, and then I’m in the air, jumping a little awkwardly with all the goddam extra weight clinging to me, the armored plates, the cleats, the utility pack slung around my back, but I jump regardless. I’m hurtling towards the thing and then I land on it, warm spongy flesh beneath my fingers and arms and feet and teeth and I’m plunging the knife into it again and again, stabbing and tearing and twisting and the amalgam is roaring and batting at me with its arms but they’re too large and I’m right on top of it so it can’t reach me.

“Run!” I scream at Peter. I manage to get a glimpse of his face, pale, wide-eyed, mouth a raw grimace of pain. I can see him hesitating, I know he doesn’t want to fucking leave, goddam it, every fucking hormone and impulse is screaming for him to save me from the fucking amalgam.

I twist the knife again and the amalgam roars and finally grabs ahold of me. I can feel a dozen hands and hooves and paws and wings clenching painfully around my torso, I can feel a couple of ribs splinter and break as they dig in.

Peter’s eyes are very bright.

“That’s an order,” I tell him, and then the orifice closes around me and a thunderous wave of peristaltic action drags me down roughly into the belly of the beast.

Inside the amalgam a thousand hands and tendrils and creepers are writhing over me fleshily and it smells like death and rot and decay. The walls of the thing squeeze at me and shift me down further and I realize that they’re studded with faces, with faces of people that have ingrown into the thing, pressed inwards at crazy angles. I can feel the outlines of faces against my back, my chest, rubbing against my face like a dog snuffling against me. I can hear nothing from outside the amalgam, no sound, nothing to indicate whether Peter’s managed to get away or if the amalgam is currently in the act of ripping him to pieces, all there is is the soft sound of liquid gurgling and straining flesh. It takes every ounce of willpower I have not to whimper.

I manage to snake my arm down to my waist, wincing as the motion tugs on my ribs and another stab of pain echoes through me, and flip open the pouch there. I find the three cloth slots within it. One is empty, two is empty, three is…

My mind goes blank. I run my fingers over the slot again.

Three is empty. I gave my distress beacon to Fitzroy and never got it back from him.

I slide down the amalgam’s gullet further. My knife is still sticking inside the damn thing’s hide somewhere on the outer skin of it. I’ve got my gun but I don’t relish the idea of blowing my own eardrums out. I could -

“M-Makado?” a voice whispers and my eyes snap open.

“No,” I mutter. “No, no, no, no.”

“I can’t – I can’t move, I can’t feel anything, where am I?”

I reach out for the face pressed against my stomach, feel a cheek spread out into a smooth ribbed flatness. “Makado?” the voice asks again and then I wrench downwards again. I find my flashlight and manage to navigate it to my mouth and turn it on and then the light is shining straight in Eileen’s face and she shuts her eyes, or tries to; part of her face has been eaten away by acid. I can see teeth through the thin membrane of her cheek and one of her eyes no longer has a lid, it’s only barely recognizable as being her, but her voice is the same, a little slurred, a little incoherent, but still her, still the girl I had tried so hard to save.

“Oh my god,” I say, looking at her, the flashlight falling out of my mouth. I try to catch it but a twinge in my ribs makes my hand snap backwards, and then we’re back in the dark. I reach down with my other arm, across my body, and unsnap the holster, then take the gun out, bring it up, clutching it tightly as the amalgam swallows again and churns me downwards. My feet are getting warmer and I kick them experimentally; that must be its stomach down there, they’re passing through liquid. I reach up, find Eileen’s face again.

“It hurts,” she tells me. I press the gun to her forehead and pull the trigger. The noise is deafening and once I’m done all I can hear is ringing. The amalgam roars, so loudly I can hear it from inside, and then it’s pulling at me, arms are tearing at me, the tendrils are wreathing up to my face. I try to scream but someone puts their fingers in my mouth and I choke and spit and bite down and then there’s another, smaller roar. One of the faces surrounding me opens its mouth and vomits on me and I realize from the smell that it’s ballast, it just vomited enough ballast on me to nearly drown me, and then a fleshy cap covers my face and I can’t breathe, I can’t do anything but scream, and when I open my mouth to the tendrils race down my throat and I convulse and try to heave but I can’t, I can’t do anything, they’re forcing my mouth open, and even if I could bring my arms up to try and claw the thing on my face off of me it’s too thick and too strong, I don’t think I’d even be able to scratch it. The tendrils flicker over my face and force one of my eyelids open and then I feel something hard and sharp press into my eye and I scream and scream and scream until the amalgam freezes and I freeze and for a moment I don’t know why, but then I hear it, like a door slamming somewhere very far away, a sound sprouting in the middle of my brain.

The organic plugs in my nose feeding me oxygen quiver and withdraw and I can feel the bone pull away from my ruined face, and the familiar sizzling feeling of ballast starting to repair damaged tissue, but inside my head this is all very distant. I feel as though I’m being drawn magnetically someplace, as though I’m about to bend in half and rip out of the side of the amalgam like a missile, but there’s no actual motion.

One of the faces near me screams, and then another and another. I can hear them very dimly through my ruined ears. “Shut up,” I murmur in a horrible, slurred voice, “shut up, shut up, shut up –“

There is a sound like glass shattering, and the echo of it resounds off the curved walls of my skull, and all the faces cry out one last time then fall silent, and I am jostled as the amalgam falls heavily. I can feel the horrible, horrible catch as one of my ribs pierces into my lung and all the breath rushes out of me. The sound is still echoing and growing louder and louder and I scream uselessly, barely more than a vibration in my throat, and just when I think my head will burst with the pressure of that titanic sound it subsides and so do my thoughts.

 * * *

 “Jesus,” I breathe. Makado nods. She glances at her watch again and shrugs.

“Anyway,” she says, “after all that…unpleasantness, I spent a very long time in a hospital, and came out of it looking like this,” she gestures to her face.

“What happened to the amalgam?”

Makado starts to say something, then stops. “Heart attack,” she says finally. My eyes narrow and she grins at me. “There are some things I really can’t tell you,” she says.

“Alright, that’s fair. You recovered pretty well, it seems.”

She shrugs again, makes an indeterminate gesture. “So-so,” she tells me. “My depth perception is fucked and the nerves in the eye socket are dead so I can’t even get a prosthetic. And I have to wear hearing aids,” she adds, turning her head to the side and tucking her hair back so I can see the off-brown lump of it lurking in her ear.

“I’m a little surprised,” I say after a moment, “that you ended up back here. Peter too, I don’t know why you’d come back and work for this place.”

“There are different motivations,” Makado says, shrugging. “At the most basic, the benefits and pay are good. Much better than practically anywhere else in the National Park System, and that’s even assuming that you could have found a post elsewhere. Say what you want about government jobs but if you show up with the Pit on your resume a lot of places will give you the cold shoulder.”

“Why’s that?”

“Trauma, mostly. The Disaster was…” she starts, then stops. There’s something far-off in her eyes, something unknowable. I watch her quietly, waiting for her to speak, committing every moment to memory with the familiar mental stomp I used studying in college. “It was hell,” she finishes. “And everyone had their own little share of it.”

“I thought Peter had said something about a pension, or a settlement or something.”

“Oh, there was one,” Makado nods, “but it didn’t last forever. Only if you were permanently disabled cause of the disaster. Which neither of us were, although in my case it was a near thing.”

I lick my lips, think about how to phrase my next question. “Peter…told me some things about what happened to him after the disaster. Mentally I mean.”

“Yeah?”

“I, uh. I just wanted to know if, well, if he’s okay. While he was telling me his story I never would have guessed that all that happened, he seemed perfectly normal, but, like…I guess I just wanted a different perspective. I didn’t know the guy, I mean, but…”

As usual I make a complete hash of it. Makado stares at me and I can feel my cheeks coloring. “I didn’t mean –“ I start, but she cuts me off.

“I know what you mean. While he was in treatment his personality evaporated. He was like a robot. I’d call him every day and talk to him and it was like talking to a pre-recorded message. Exact same intonation every time, no creativity, no nuance. It was painful, for both of us, I think. He doesn’t like to talk about that time and I know that he still feels bad about not being able to be there for me while I was recovering from all the repair they had to do on my face. I’ve told him over and over again that it doesn’t matter but he still feels guilty.

“He was lucky, though. He got discharged with a clean bill of health a week before a full-on outbreak. Funnily enough the mental hospital burned down about a week after that. They managed to get out most of the people working there but couldn’t save any of the patients.”

She raises an eyebrow at me. “Now isn’t that a strange coincidence?”

“Are you implying that –“

“I’m not implying anything,” she assures me, too smoothly. “Just pointing out what an odd and timely coincidence that was. Now, was there anything else you wanted to know? I have a meeting in a half hour.”

“What’s the job you’re getting Peter to do?”

“Use your imagination, I’m sure it’ll be more interesting than the truth.”

I shake my head, bewildered. “You really don’t believe me, do you? You really think I’m –“

“You’re a journalist,” she explains. “How could you not be writing a story on this? Only reason I told you what happened to me is because I think you’re probably a decent person. But you’re still a journalist, and that means you’re going to write a story.”

“I have HIV,” I tell her. She looks at me. “I found out two days before I first heard about the Pit. I figured nothing matters any more so why not just – just enjoy myself? I got a plane ticket and flew down here just because I’m goddam curious, took some photos and shit, but I’m not writing a story.”

“So it’s because of the ballast, then?”

“No!” I say, trying not to get angry, and then I shake my head. “Yes, I guess. I don’t know. I read about it and I thought that maybe…I don’t know what I thought.”

I can feel myself flushing and I look away, glare at the wall, stamp down mentally on the feeling until it falls away.

“There are easier ways to control HIV, you know,” Makado points out.

“Not for me.”

Makado frowns. “What do you mean?”

I explain briefly what I mean and her face falls. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

Makado nods. “Well, ballast might do it. It might not, I don’t know. They never tested it on diseases like that.”

“Do they even still take any out?”

“Oh, a little bit,” she says. “But it’s so, so little. If you’re really lucky and the hospital you go to is a very big, very important one, and the department is trying to justify its budget for the year, you might get some. Otherwise…for instance, I would have trouble getting some even if I was seriously injured. God,” she groans, “that sounded so bitchy, I’m sorry.”

“It didn’t sound bitchy,” I tell her. “I knew it was a stupid idea. I didn’t have a plan or anything, I just thought…I don’t know. Maybe someone in town sells it,” I laugh.

“You know,” Makado says, taking another surreptitious glance at her watch, “I didn’t even know you could be allergic to HIV medicine.”

“It’s really rare, apparently, is what the doctor said. Didn’t make me feel much better.”

“That’s a shame. And there’s no other treatment, no other medicines?”

“Oh, of course there are. Experimental, expensive ones that my insurance company would never fucking pay for.”

I can tell I’m sounding bitter and I try to clamp down on it, but I know it’s going to come leaking out anyway, poisoning my voice with a taste of rust and iron, like I’m choking on blood.

“You could pay for them out of pocket,” Makado suggests in a muted voice, as though she doesn’t want to argue with me.

“I don’t have that kind of money.”

“Take out a loan,” she says. “Pay with a credit card. I mean, there are options.”

“I don’t –“

“Why don’t you –“ Makado cuts herself off. “Never mind,” she says. “It isn’t my place.”

“You can say it.”

“I don’t want to get in an argument with you.”

“You think I’m giving up.”

Makado looks at me and I stare back into her one good eye. I can see what Peter liked about her, what he still must like about her, why he still loves her. She must know, surely. One eye gone, specks of – of pre-digestion, I guess, on her arms and probably the rest of her body, who knows what her hand looks like beneath that glove, and Peter would never have wavered, not even once.

“Yeah,” she says finally. “I don’t understand why you’d give up. Maybe it’s because I never would. I never did.”

I nod slowly. “Somehow I didn’t think it’d be in your character.”

Makado laughs, a little gusty snort from her nostrils. “Why’re you giving up, then?”

“I’m not.”

“It seems like you are.”

“I’m not!”

“And this,” she says, pointing at me, glove finger extending out and then back down again, lip curling upwards in a lazy grin, “is why I didn’t want to talk about it. Because I knew you were going to get angry and defensive –“

“I’m not –“ I start, then stop myself. “Alright,” I say, trying not to smile at her. “I get your point.”

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” she says, starting to rise.

“One last thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Is that thing about the disease…about how it spreads, is that true?”

“Yes, it is.”

“And is -“ I shake my head. “Is this really the best way to deal with it? Let people sneak in so they can - kill themselves? And Peter, is he…I don’t know,” I shake my head. “Why didn’t he just get as far away from this place as he could? Why didn’t you?”

My voice cracks on the last bit there. I swallow hard, hold Makado’s gaze.

Makado blows her breath out. “That’s a difficult question,” she says. “I think – okay. I think there are two different ways to deal with trauma.”

I raise an eyebrow. She sees it and laughs. “I’m making a point, I promise. I think that you can either take the hit and get up and not dwell on it, I think you can, you know, accept that something terrible happened to you and accept that your life will have to change because of it, and then make adjustments and move on. The other option is to dwell on it, to let it become you, to let the trauma become who you are. Not that, you know, you shouldn’t acknowledge it at all, that you should pretend it never happened, cause I don’t think that’s healthy either, but I think there’s a middle ground that you have to strike in. And I think I – well, I think I tend towards maybe the upper area of that middle ground. I don’t think Peter’s in the middle ground at all.”

“You think he dwells on it.”

“Yes,” Makado says. “That’s why I came back here, that’s why I started as a supervisor in Security, that’s why I put my time in and when Bruce retired I took his spot as head of the department. Cause I do feel for these people. I really, really do. But I think you can effect more change working from within a place like this,” she says, gesturing at the walls around us, “instead of trying to work at it from the outside. It might not be perfect, it might be deeply flawed, but there’s still a system, and it’s easier to work with it than against it. It’s easier to change it if you’re embedded inside it.”

“But don’t you think,” I say suddenly, just as I think of it, “that if you’re embedded inside it, it might also become embedded inside you?”

“That is some Nietzsche shit that I’m not going to entertain,” she says, grinning at me, but I think that for a moment I can see something in her eye, a ghost lurking there, that might agree with me more than her bluster would suggest.

She reaches into her bag and takes out a smaller plastic bag and tosses it to me. I catch it and look inside; there’s my phone, voice recorder, and camera. “I’ll be back tonight to get you out of here,” she says from the door. “Like I said, I’ll run interference with the Feds. You should be fine. Just don’t come sniffing around again, alright?”

I laugh, trying to mask the sound of my hope dying. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“And you’ll have to log on to the wifi if you want to do anything and it’s pretty closely monitored, so you know, don’t fuck up.”

“I’m picking up what you’re putting down.”

“You’re smelling what I’m stepping in?”

I snort. “What the fuck, who even says –“

“Me, I say that.” She tells me the wi-fi password and reminds me she’ll be back to collect me at ten or so and leaves me to my own devices, the door clicking softly behind her. I look at my phone, look at the distorted reflection of myself glowering back, and then I shake my head lightly, let the planes of my face scatter and refract off the glossy surface.

I spend the next hours getting halfway through Jane Eyre before it’s dark and my stomach is rumbling and Makado comes and hustles me into a tan Desert Storm surplus Humvee and then we’re making our crawling way along the road towards the gate, and I look over at Peter, sitting next to me in the back, and he smiles at me but even though he looks excited, I just give him a little half-hearted grin cause everything is settling into me now, everything is starting to ache, and I can already tell I’m going to need a lot of time to digest what I’ve seen and done the past couple of days, and then of course I’m probably never going to see Peter or Makado again.

But I keep that to myself and we make the ride in silence. I look out the window, watch the weird, industrial shapes of the sedative plant and then the angular block of the administrative building slip by on the other side of the glass, watch the way Peter keeps looking over at Makado and the way Makado occasionally catches the edge of that glance in the mirror and looks away quickly, smiling secretly to herself, the corners of her lips turning up just a little before she smothers it.

The Humvee nudges outside of the gate and the same guard in the same MP helmet is there in the gatehouse, and he does a doubletake when he sees me wave at him after clambering out of the back of the car, and then Makado pops her door open and slips down, managing to look dignified as she does, and he snaps a salute that she returns with an eyeroll. “I’m not in the damn National Guard,” she says, sounding tired, and he puts his hand down sheepishly. Then she summons a rugged grin, and shrugs at him. “At ease,” she tells him. “And you can even go back in and sit down; we won’t be more than a minute.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Always makes me feel old when they call me ‘ma’am,’” she mutters.

Peter puts his hand out to shake and I pull him into a hug which he returns after a moment. “Take care of yourself,” I tell him, and then Makado shakes my hand and I don’t pull her into a hug. “Last chance,” I tell her.

“For what?”

“To hire me for – for whatever you guys are doing.”

She laughs at that one, but quietly. “Don’t do anything stupid,” she tells me in a low voice, and shake my head at her.

“I would never,” I say. I try very hard not to see the bullet puncturing the back of Rey’s head as the words pass my lips but I can’t stop the vision from bubbling up out of some crevice in my mind. I force a smile and she doesn’t comment on it. Her phone buzzes and she draws it from her pocket; I can see her eyes darken as she reads who it is. Peter and I are both giving her a questioning look but she shakes her head.

“I have to take this,” she says. “Back in five.”

We nod and Makado climbs back into the Humvee, giving me one last lingering glance as she does. She knew, of course, I wouldn’t have been able to hide it, that smile was fake as hell. But she doesn’t question it at least, she lets me have my dignity. The door shuts and I can just barely make out her silhouette through the tinted glass, bringing her phone to her ear.

“You doing alright?” Peter asks, and I nod.

“Yeah. It was, you know, a little scary but it seems like everything’s worked out as well as it could.”

“It definitely has,” he agrees.

“Any chance you’ll tell me what she’s got you doing?”

“Not a chance.”

I nod. I could say something biting, something about his guerilla spirit being so easily quashed, but that’d just be pathetic and petty. I feel like something’s dying inside of me but then that’s just being dramatic.

I am a blob of human meat standing here, slowly dying, wondering at what the electricity in my brain means. I smile at Peter, really mean it. “I’m happy for you,” I tell him. He looks at me, trying to judge if I’m serious.

“Yeah?” he asks, and I nod.

“Yeah,” I tell him. “I don’t know what I expected the end of this story to be but this is a good one.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell you the rest.”

“Makado did.”

He raises his eyebrows, surprised, looks back at the Humvee. “Well,” he says. “I guess I changed her mind about you.”

“Don’t fuck it up,” I tell him.

“Huh?”

“With her,” I say, cutting my eyes over at the Humvee. “Don’t fuck it up.”

“I don’t –“

I let a little amused gust blow out of my nostrils. “It’s okay,” I tell him. “Just be – be yourself. I know you still love her.”

He looks at me then, really looks at me, and I can see in his eyes that he is reevaluating me, twisting apart the jigsaw puzzle he built of me inside his brain and rearranging it in a different shape. He opens his mouth to say something but before he can the door to the Humvee bangs open and we both jump and Makado hops down, her mouth a grim line, the phone clutched loosely in her hand, her eyes fixed on me. “Change of plans,” she barks. I’ve already got my ears pricked up, but then Makado looks over at Peter, and then back at me. “Are you sure about her, Pete?” she asks him. Then there are two pairs of eyes on me and I feel uncomfortably like I’m a rather bruised and sorry-looking apple being picked over at a supermarket.

Peter says something to her that I can’t hear and then Makado shakes her head. “Fine,” she says. “You’re in,” she calls to me. “We need you.”

“Who was that on the phone?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” she tells me. “This is your one chance. You either turn around and go back to your hotel and forget about this place, or you get in the Humvee, and then you can see how deep the rabbit hole goes. I don’t have time to let you phone a friend about it,” she says. Her eye is boring into me like a laser and I can’t for the life of me tell whether she’s helping me or hurting me.

I look back behind me at the long, dusty walk back to Gumption, and then I turn. “What the hell,” I say, and then Peter is grinning at me and Makado gives me a look that’s supposed to be dangerous, that’s supposed to be a ‘don’t fuck this up’ kind of look, but she still looks a little pleased in spite of herself.

Peter puts his hand out and I grab it and he hauls me back into the Humvee and the gate yawns wide ahead of us, and then we pass through it, and it shuts behind us like a mouth closing, like before me the worst is yet to come.

And yet if I believe that, why can’t I stop myself from grinning? Why can’t I stop my heart from racing like I just won the lottery?

The driver turns the radio on as he rounds the bend and heads along the road with the signpost reading ‘Barracks’ and for an instant, just an instant, I think I hear the very end of We Didn’t Start the Fire, grinding to a long, shuddering, 80s-fade exit.

END OF BOOK 1

Continue with Part 13

Back to Table of Contents

[originofjaehyun]

Prelude: After Story | Part 3 | Make Your Day

Prelude: After Story Masterlist

Word count: 4,330

Warnings: Suggestive

Part 3 | Make Your Day

“Just by your existence, you already shine radiantly like this.”

Prev

Read Interlude: No More Drama

Tag list: @justineasian​ @elauniesdream

A/N: I started Interlude: No More Drama series back in March, and I never knew that the series would go this far. Prelude: After Story is a mini-sequel that I actually didn’t plan –since I started to write Interlude during the Neozone era and I didn’t know how they would bring the repackage album, but truthfully I’m very proud of where it is. I think it is quite interesting to see things from Yuta’s POV! 

I hope you’re not bored at this, but I wish I could convey my gratitude better. I already wrote my thank you during the end of Interlude, but I’d like to say thanks again. Really, receiving warm messages especially during the current world situation does brighten up my day. So I hope that my writings could help to entertain you, to make your day (no puns intended hahaha).

This marks the end of Interlude: No More Drama and Prelude: After Story series! I personally think this is a milestone for me as a writer (especially this is one of my first published work). In the future, I would probably go cringe when I re-read this when I’m able to write a better story, but nevertheless this is the first stepping stone and it doesn’t change the fact that I will always feel proud of this. I really like how the story unfolds and how the character develops, and I think this is the perfect closure to end the series.

Thank you for loving them, and enjoying the ride with the characters!

Much love,

Dee

The same reaction, always, whenever Yuta received a guest.

You took a moment to admire his house. It’s late, but after stepping inside, you are greeted with the large window –displaying the amazing view of the cityscape.

He took off his suit, throwing it to the armchair. “Please be comfortable. Sorry for the sudden invitation, I realized I might be slightly pushy now that I've started to sober up. I can’t believe I let a woman drive me home.”

You giggled softly. “Please, gender shouldn’t prevent you from driving safely. Anyway, you have a very nice place.”

He scoffed. “It’s humble, but I like this place. The view is very charming from here. Well, sit down, I’ll grab our glasses and some ice.”

Of course, his apartment is anything but humble. You quickly scanned the room as you make your way to where he pointed his couch is. There are weird ornaments as a part of the house decorations here and there, like a vase with Japanese ceramic technique with a single dark crimson rose and few decorations of octopuses —you never knew how those could blend in together. Nevertheless, it has its own charm and the place screams his personality.

“Here,” He passes you a glass that is filled with caramel-colored liquid. The sound of the ice touching the glass snaps you from your daydream. “It’s Hibiki 12. I hope you don’t mind whiskey?”

You accepted the glass with both of your hands. “I’m good with anything. Out of curiosity though, do you always have a Japanese liquor on hand?”

A wide grin appears on his face, showcasing the perfectly aligned teeth. “To be precise, I always have Hibiki around because they are easier to drink. I managed to snatch a bottle of champagne and bourbon, though. Do you prefer those instead?”

“Would never refuse an invitation for a bottle of good quality champagne.”

“Seems like you’re a heavy drinker, Miss. I must say I think I’m pretty good at handling my alcohol, but I want to make sure there’s no accident tonight.”

You slightly flinched at his last sentence but managed to control your expression.

“Ah, I think just normal? I could manage if we could keep the pace slow –though I’m pretty sure that’s not what you wanted tonight.”

Yuta smirked, taking a seat on the floor across you. You followed him, taking a seat near him since it would be rude for you to remain seated on the couch while the house owner is being casual and sitting on the floor.

“Actually, not really.” He said while twirling his class, taking another sip. “I was thinking of taking it slow tonight.”

You shifted your stare to see him. “Is that so.”

While you thought it was quite careless for him to invite a stranger –technically you are up until the car ride where you briefly introduce each other– to his house, you’re not the one to talk since you also waltzed into his apartment without any second thoughts.

Both of you don’t mind the silence, as he continues to spin his middle finger around the rim of his glass. Either the alcohol starts to kick in, or he is consumed by his own thoughts. His cheeks start to flushed like cherry blossoms, and his mind is in a daze.

“I–” Yuta finally breaks the silence. “Was thinking a lot about my own feelings. On the contrary to my look, I think I’m actually the type of person who feels a lot. Most of the time I decide things based on my feelings.”

You didn’t respond, so there’s a momentary pause before he bridges his story together. You didn’t respond because you didn’t pay him any attention, but you just feel like right now what he needs is to let out his feelings, bare to the table.

“When I received my invitation, I feel like the ground below my feet shattered. But at the same time, it would be rude of me to reject it when she was so excited about her wedding. I was thinking how could this person be so dense to invite me that are still wallowing in sorrow?”

You took another sip of your whiskey, keeping your mouth shut while listening to his story.

“As I entered the venue today, each and every of my step seems harder. Like, I was regretting saying yes to her invitation.”

He then looked down at his almost empty glass. “Then I saw her face. And it feels like... all the answers that I’ve been looking for was there. That today was the day where I truly feel thankful that I made that decision. I’m glad she looked happy,”

He took another sip, finishing whatever left on his glass. “I’m glad that I could end this and make it into a proper memory.”

There it is.

The man in front of you smiled when he reached the end of his sentence. But you can see how that smile was wrapped in sadness.

You know by the way he talks, he is a man full of passion. His directness that is sometimes always too spontaneous. But it’s not the blazing-type of passion. Maybe because of his past, there’s always a trail of woe that surrounds him. That keeps him from burning his surroundings.

Like a blue flame.

“I’m sorry, it must be weird to suddenly listen to my sad story,” He said as he rises up. “Let me refill your glass. Should we take other liquor? I was thinking of switching it up to wine. I didn’t lie when I said there’s no more regret, but in order for me to truly accept it, I guess I kinda need to feel my feelings? I need something to dull the pain.”

“I thought you only stole bourbon and champagne?”

“You can’t call it a Nakamoto residence without a vast amount of alcohol gallery, you know?”

Finally, a hint of delight starts to replace the somber mood. “Again, I’m a guest so I’ll take anything. For your reference, though, I’m more of a red wine person.”

He curls his lips upwards, chiseling his well-structured cheekbones, “Got it. Also, please be more comfortable. I’m the one who suddenly invites you, after all.”

As he walks toward his wine fridge, you reactively rise up, about to offer your help. You’ve been sitting on your feet for quite a while, and your legs are definitely not ready for the sudden movement. You almost slip to the ground, but as if it was a shoujo manga, Yuta manages to catch you.

“Careful!” He said as he holds your upper arm, preventing you from falling.

It feels like the universe planned this all along, as cliche as it might sound.

You get to see his face, up close. The way his eyes pull you in, glistening from the alcohol that he had consumed.

It would be a lie if you told him that you’re not attracted. How could you not? The man in front of you is obviously good looking, but his demeanor, the way his voice travels through the air.

It was all just too alluring.

You avoided of the what-could-have-happened-next scenario by breaking the eye contact, looking away. It is a different case for Yuta. Because the sight of your neck, now burning in the vibrant pink flush is like an open invitation for him.

And he is not Yuta if he is not a decisive person.

He leans in, giving you a soft kiss on the lips. A kiss you didn’t see coming, but most definitely sending electrifying feels to your spine. A kiss that is mixed with the bitterness from alcohol. Yet Hibiki is sweet, so you long for more, kissing him back in the process.

The kiss that was started gently, suddenly rises up as both of you wanting for more. He dives in, checking if you felt the same way. You reciprocated, biting his lower lips. Asking him to pace up the speed.

You thought he would gladly eat you. To your disappointment, however, he separates his lips from yours.

“Are you fine with this?”

His whispers are gentle, yet able to give you goosebumps. He knows, that even under influence he should earn your consent before moving on to the next step. That surprises you because you thought the alcohol would turn him into a beast. But Yuta remains as a gentleman.

So you shyly give him a nod of approval, much to gain his wonderful smile. He leans forward to kiss you, but this time in a much more aggressive manner.

As he trails his lips to your neck, soft moans escape from your lips.

“Wait,” You stopped him half-way, which he only responded with a confused face. “Can we, uhm, perhaps move somewhere else? I… never done this… so I don’t know if I’m doing this right,”

Seeing how nervous you are, and the way you panicked over this, Yuta couldn’t help to chuckle softly. 

“Of course, that is rude of me,” He kissed your temple, followed by gentle strokes on your head. 

“Come.”

He stands up, offering his hand in which you immediately accept. He guides you to his room. His room didn’t shy away from being loud, some might even perceive it as odd since he opts to choose eccentric pieces to decorate his sanctuary. But everything seems to mesh well together with his plain beige wallpaper. There are a few unfinished canvases at the corner, most notably a painting of roses.

You were busy admiring his room to realize that he was waiting for you at the corner of his bed. Arms wide open ready to embrace you.

You giggled at the scene, but then you remember that you fall into his arms means it won’t stop at just there.

“Can I... use your bathroom first?”

You can feel the heat collecting on your cheek. You were embarrassed to ask such a question, but Yuta understands where you are coming from in a heartbeat, and you are glad for that.

“Please,” He said, gesturing to you to find his bathroom. “But once you’re done, we’re not stopping, yeah? I think I’ve been good for being patient, don’t you think?”

You smiled at his remarks. “I’ll be quick.”

You practically skipped your way to the bathroom. You checked yourself, at least making sure you smell pleasant. Then before leaving the bathroom door, you took your time in front of the sink. Contemplating with yourself in the mirror.

You are about to fuck Yuta.

The words repeated inside your head but soon vanished at the sight of a foreign object. Not that you are used to his apartment, but everything in his apartment was coated with his character, except this dainty jewelry.

It was a delicate, simple rose gold earrings. You noticed that Yuta rocks multiple piercings on both of his ears. But none are this delicate. It seems these were too plain for his liking.

Who am I to judge?

You said to yourself. You literally just know this man tonight and you’d be damned to judge his taste. Who knows, maybe he has those days where he wants to lay low. Whenever he’s going to meet his clients, perhaps? But you feel like keeping such delicate pieces in the bathroom has a potential of him losing it, so you call him out.

“Yuta?”

He hummed as a form of reply.

“You shouldn’t keep your earrings near the sink, you know. You might wash them away by accident.”

Suddenly you can hear his footsteps, rushing. You didn’t lock the door and you are glad that you didn’t because he would probably break the door open. He rushed to grab the pair of earrings, and the color on his face fades away. The smile that once appeared on his face was no longer there.

This gains your confusion. What does a rose gold earring mean to him that he had to act this way?

A rose gold earring.

A painting of roses.

A single rose that was fresh, as if it was treated with the utmost care.

Then you remember that the sight of a rose is definitely not a stranger for you, especially the last three days.

You decorated the hall with roses.

The couple carefully selected the specific color of the roses, making the last few weeks like a nightmare looking out for the vendors.

Of course, you even arranged her bouquet with roses.

“Ah, I just like roses,” She said to you when you asked why she picked roses as one of the main flowers. “As cliché as it might sound, I think roses are one of the most stunning flowers out there. They’re beautiful but surrounded by their thorns so you got to treat them gently unless you want them to prick you. Also, I think it’s because of the roses that we’re back together.”

“Did we?” Her fiancé finally looked at her after busy playing with the ring on her fingers.

“Don’t you dare to forget you add water to my shower gel.”

You could remember the laughter vividly in your head, but the last thing that you would want right now is to laugh. 

“I get it.” You tried to act though, but there’s a crack in your voice. “I get that you just told me you were trying to forget about her a few minutes ago.”

You can feel like your vision is about to start to blur, but you took a deep breath to prevent a single tear to drop.

“I’d like to blame it on the alcohol, but I guess I’m at fault too.”

Was it the way he always smiled so brilliantly? His weird and odd taste that makes you furrow your brows the moment you step into his place? The way he comes to your shop every week to buy fresh flowers and look at them so lovingly?

Perhaps, because he could enter your heart so easily. Who knows, you might have already fallen for him the moment he requested for roses the first time you met him.

You get that you only get along well, and what are the chances that these things happen so smoothly? You’re not a princess out of a Disney movie.

He evidently holds the pair of earrings so dearly, and even though you’re not the type of person who puts your feelings on your sleeve, it is inevitable that you felt the sharp pain on your chest.

“I never do this, Yuta. And I don’t plan on doing these things, if that someone doesn’t think about me at this very moment.”

Your words startled him, and before he could speak up, you gave him your last words. “Please, don’t ever take this so lightly, especially to me.”

You walked past him, grabbing your belongings in the living room before walking outside. You are glad Yuta didn’t chase you, because it would hurt your pride if he knows that you cried a river when you walk your way to your car.

--

It’s nearly a week since you closed your flower shop. This is your business and to be frank you are still upset about what happened after the wedding party. The newlyweds paid a hefty amount of money so you can survive a bit without operating. Though, this small shop that is also connected to your home upstairs will need to open soon in order for you to be able to pay your bills. Furthermore, your love for flowers is far too great for you to leave them without any attention. 

You closed your shop, telling your customers (especially your regulars) and putting a sign in front of the shop that you will be back after a week of break. You also told Mark that he wouldn’t need to come. He accepted it without pressing for further questions, but it’s so like Mark to make sure you’re alright.

“I’m fine, really. You don’t need to pay for my shift this week either.”

“Are you sure? I was thinking I could give you half of it.”

“No, I wouldn’t feel good taking money without putting any effort into it. But most importantly, you sure you’re fine, Noona?”

You sighed in relief, glad that Mark is well-raised and how he always cares about the people around him. “I’m fine, Mark. I think the wedding frenzy got the best of me, so I was thinking of having a short break so I could have a fresh start.”

“Well, it was overwhelming, not gonna lie,” Mark said as he recalled how he helped you prepare for his brother’s and new sis wedding. “I guess if you say so. Please if there’s anything I could do to help, let me know Noona.”

You replied with a simple yes, throwing your phone to the bed after you ended the call.

The past week, all you’ve been doing is to wake up early in the morning, tend the flowers, eat your breakfast, and go straight to nap. It’s a bad habit, yes, but that is how you cope with sadness.

Sad? Am I entitled to feel so?

You only know Yuta briefly, he is a regular. The fact that you know that he’s a Japanese before he told you so is probably trivial to him.

“We’re out of camellias, I’m terribly sorry sir.”

“Do you know when the next batch will come?”

“Unfortunately camellias are not in season, so it will take a while for us to restock it.”

He sighed, then he looked at his wristwatch. It seems like he doesn’t have that much time to browse the catalog.

“Is there a reason why you’re looking for camellias?”

“Ah, not really. It reminds me of home. I just came back from there last week. I thought of getting roses, but I changed my mind.”

“Home?”

“Oh, sorry. I wasn’t from here. I’m a Japanese, you see.”

“Oh! I didn’t notice.”

He shyly scratched the back of his head, still not used to people complimenting his bilingual ability. You find his reaction charming, unconsciously giggling at it.

“Then, sir, I assume you’re in a hurry. May I give you a suggestion?”

“How do you know I was in a hurry?”

“Well it was easy since you immediately asked for camellia and looked at your watch the moment I told you we don’t have one.”

He lets out a smile. A smile so warm that sunflowers might face toward his direction immediately. “Indeed, I have to meet someone this evening. So your help will actually good for my favor. I was thinking of buying flowers for my dining table, do you have any suggestions?”

Now it’s your turn to smile. “I think buttercups would be perfect.”

—

Yuta has been thinking a lot about what happened last Saturday.

Especially how he should talk to her.

It’s easy to spot her store, Yuta and Doyoung practically passed by it every single morning on their way to the office. The sun hits the flower store perfectly. Not too harsh, just a bask of the golden ray. Usually, he would see how the beautifully bloomed flowers were displayed on the store windows. But it’s already day six and the store shows no sign of operations.

He reads the announcement board in front of the store; “Paradise will be closed for an inventory check. We will be back to serve you next week!”

He feels dejected. Yuta couldn’t just ask Mark for her number, that would have raised so many questions. Yes, Yuta kissed her, but was their relationship that close for him to ask for her number? The fact that both of them are not sober is also a part of Yuta’s concern.

So instead, Yuta planned to visit the florist (especially since he’s been skipping buying flowers for a week —his vase longed to be filled with any arrangement) as an excuse to meet her. But now he even lost that very reason.

He was about to step away before a tune leaked out from the front door.

Someone is here.

Without hesitation, Yuta knocked on the front door. The one inside, however, did not expect any visitor. Yuta can hear how the person inside scrambles their way to open the door.

“Yes?”

She lets out a professional smile, and it fades almost instantly as soon as she sees Yuta standing in front of her door.

“Hi.”

“Yuta!” She closes her mouth, surprised that she shrieked. “Uhm, I… didn’t expect you to come. But our store is currently close, so if you’re looking for flowers, unfortunately we—“

“I want to talk to you.”

Again, it’s so very Yuta to cut to the chase.

“I want to clarify a few things.”

She finally looked at him. She tried to remain calm, keeping the expressionless upfront. But Yuta could see how her pupils were quivering. She was trying to be brave.

“I’d like to apologize for three things. One, the way I reacted at that time. It was only mere minutes after I said that I’m truly happy for her. As a human being, don’t you think it’s understandable that I reacted that way?”

She nods but remained silent.

“I’m typically an extrovert, but I’m very territorial with my personal space, and I let her go beyond the lines that I created. In a way, she is precious to me.”

This time, she didn’t respond.

“And she would probably always be. But that doesn’t mean I could only have one precious person in my life.”

She furrowed her brows, and Yuta smirked as he continued.

“After that night, I think a lot about my feelings. How I truly felt.” He scratches the back of his head that is not itchy, but because it takes a lot for Yuta to bare his feelings like this while being sober.

“And the answer remains the same. I genuinely feel happy for her. So I thought, it would only be right to properly keep everything away, little by little instead of throwing it away out of anger. Forcing myself to move on from her. Because I, too believe –as narcissistic as this might sound, that I was a part of a chapter in her life that she holds dear too. It might be slow progress, but I will get there, eventually.”

“Secondly, I apologize for not apologizing for kissing you that night. There is no regret, the attraction is mutual anyway.”

She tilted her head, before realizing what Yuta actually meant. “Wait, you knew?”

He chuckles. “Going back to Osaka was the turning point. Probably everything that I need. It forces me to start fresh, exactly like what I did when I first set foot in this country. It let me accept that I’m actually the type of person who feels a lot. Like how I admit that I’m hopelessly romantic.”

The cold atmosphere starts to melt away, with the addition of the sun seeps in between the leaves on the nearby tree.

“So afterward I’ve been looking into subjects that I never knew I would be interested in, for example, flower languages. Might be the very first reason why I came to receive buttercups from this place.”

“So what you said…”

“Well, I guess I can say my third and last apology. I’m sorry that I am a hopeless romantic kind of guy. I’m very direct, people often told me that I intimidate them sometimes just by doing nothing. But it is just my outer shell. I might not be as strong as the way people view me. Now that you know, it might put you off, huh.”

She finally laughs, “Yuta, I am a florist. This is my field.”

As if her laugh is contagious, Yuta too, unconsciously smiling back.

“I guess, it’s been quite a journey. At least for me. Maybe I’m the one who holds onto the feelings, thinking that I should hold into it for as long as I could possibly can. But life doesn’t work that way, you know? And probably the time you gave me daffodils is one of the signs, too. I just brushed them off because of my stubbornness.”

“Maybe, just maybe, I want to start seeing life as it is. To enjoy the present. To enjoy life as moments. To experience the wonderful charm of its magic. One of the magical moments started here, and I love to cherish them while the magic is still here. In fact, it’s been a long time since things are going smoothly for me. So if I can be ever so selfish, would you let me?”

She was stunned by his remarks. Eyes blinking rapidly, completely unprepared for his sudden proposal.

Yuta had expected it. It’s barely a week, and to receive this kind of confession —although not necessarily a boyfriend-girlfriend confession— from a man who just told you his grief can be confusing.

The confused face started to fade, and she left without replying to a single word. 

Yuta thought she rejected him, asking him to leave the shop.

Well, you deserve this, Nakamoto.

As he was about to walk away, she came back with anthuriums on her hand. Taking a moment to catch for her breath as she was rushing to grab these flowers.

“This is?”

“You don’t want an answer?”

He shook his head. “It’s not that. I mean, yes I told you I’ve been learning about flower languages but it’s mostly from Google, and I can’t possibly remember the meaning of every single flower?”

“I can.”

“You are a florist, my dear.”

She laughed lightly, a tone that was like jiggles of bells to Yuta’s ears.

“Can you move closer? I want to whisper these words to you.”

Yuta motioned to her immediately, obediently following her request. As her lips almost touch his ear, Yuta can feel his blood rushing to his ears.

She said, gently to his ears. “I hope you’ll be happy today.”

[whumping-out-of-timee]

Fear me

Cw: Demons, Murder, Minor character death, Knife, Near coerced murder, Cannibalism, Throat injury, Blood, Fear, Mocking, Sadistic whumper, Unpredictable whumper, Death threats, Hopelessness, Gore

Previous: The origin

Heed the content warnings on this one for real. It involves minor character death, near coerced murder, graphic murder, cannibalism.

If you'd like to skip it, here's a summary: Reyo graphically kills and eats another demon in front of Niko. Because, he wants Niko to be afraid of him again.

Red Masterlist here

*****

The air was especially warm today, but there was nothing to do. Niko sat staring at the horizon, it appeared more colorful than normal. Almost breaking from it's muted gray tone. The wind blew his hair slightly.

It was calm without Reyo around. He hadn't bothered to show up in days. Leaving Niko confused by the fuzzy memory of him.

Did I.. dream it? I must have. Why would he ever show me kindness. It must just be another sick game

Reyo appeared before him, ruining his daydream. Niko was tiring of his games, he stayed seated on the ground.

"Not jumping up to greet me like usual?" Reyo glared, a thinly veiled threat.

Niko jumped to his feet immediately as Reyo stalked around him.

"Not afraid of me anymore, are you? What? Do you expect me to coddle you? You're nothing but pathetic" Reyo mocked him, tilting his head to examine Niko's defeated look.

I would be stupid to think his kindness meant anything

"Don't run off, I'll be right back." He growled as he disappeared.

Great, he seems to be in a bad mood today

Niko looked to the skyline, it almost appeared blue today. He missed the way the real sky looked. Missed the wind in his feathers. Missed his wings.

No use mourning over that

Reyo returned, holding another demon by the upper arm. They looked annoyed but didn't fight as they were dragged after him. Reyo didn't seem to acknowledge their existence as he analyzed Niko's glare.

As Reyo drew near, he released his hold on the stranger, turning to them with a sour look. They stood facing him, eyes averted down in shame.

What? Who's that?

Reyo took a condescending tone with the stranger as he spoke "I gave you a warning and you still stole from me. I know you did." He got close in their face as they tried to flinch away. "Normally I wouldn't care about missing food. But, I've been having to feed my captive here, so he doesn't die." He took a step back, inhaling sharply as if to gain control of himself.

He began again, in a low growl, as he stepped back to address both of them. "I'm tired of both of you. I'm tired of starving. I'm tired of no one listening to my threats" he gave Niko the side eye at the last part.

"so, I'm going to solve it!" He exclaimed, almost cheerfully.

The stranger was shaking, as Reyo drew near again. Turning their chin up to look them in the eyes. "Awe, why are you afraid now? You never listened to my warnings before now. It would've been so easy." He let them go with a chuckle.

"Now.." he paused, turning to address Niko.

"What's your name, angel?"

"N-Niko"

Reyo turned back to the trembling stranger. "Now, Niko here, is somewhat of a murder. Would you kill Niko to avoid punishment?" A grin spreading across his face at those words.

"Yes- whatever you want master" their voice wavered, but the sigh of relief was obvious.

Reyo's expression was pure evil as he met Niko's shocked gaze. Spinning around, almost playfully, as he distanced himself from the situation.

Is this how I die? After everything. They didn't even look at me before promising to kill me

Reyo broke out in laughter, "Did you hear that, angel? They wouldn't feel bad about killing you." He got serious as he added "I want you to keep that in mind, as you kill them."

He can't be serious. I cant- I've never killed anyone that except Reyo, and he's immortal

The stranger tried sprinting away, Reyo grabbed them instantly, pining their arm behind them. "Sorry I don't feel like chasing today." he met Niko's gaze, adding, "same goes for you, angel."

Niko stood silently, lost in his own racing mind. Time moved slowly as the color left his face.

He's not joking.. I can't do something like that. What will he do if I dont obey?

He looked down, trying not to focus on the struggling creature in Reyo's grip. A sharp noise, as Reyo broke the hand that clawed at him. A scream further freezing Niko in fear.

Reyo took a knife out of his pocket, dropping it to the floor and kicking it towards Niko.

"If you make another piss poor attempt at stabbing me, I'll kill you Niko" he threatened, before turning his attention back on the struggling demon. "You're not very good at getting away, huh?"

"Please- Reyo-" they pleaded, before Reyo put his hand over their mouth

"Oh, shut up."

He turned his attention to Niko, who was still standing stunned at the scene "oh, come on angel, too good for murder now?"

"I- can't-"

"Pick up the knife. Now." Reyo interrupted, impatiently tightening his grip on the demon in his arms.

This is crazy, I would never- I won't

"Now!" Reyo glared over the demons shoulder at him. "Or else."

Niko bent down reluctantly, to reach for the knife. Grateful for an excuse to break eye contact with Reyo. It was cold in his hands, his reflection blurry in it. Anger boiled over in him.

I'm going to stab Reyo. I don't care what he does about it. I'm doomed to die anyway. Why would I ever kill someone for his entertainment?

"Good, now come here, angel." Reyo mused, his voice calm again.

Niko took a shaky step forward, closing the distance. Reyo didn't seem to mind his slow pace drawing out the moment.

Maybe I'm just glad it's not the other way around. Eventually it will be..

He didn't want to think about the inevitable.

"Do it, Niko." Spit out as a threat, neon orange glare burning through him. Shattering Niko's retaliation before it begun. The blade shaking in his hand before slipping through his fingers.

I can't hurt Reyo. I can't. He's a monster. Unkillable. Things will only be worse.

The echo of the knife on the floor brought a smirk to Reyo's cold expression. "Ahh, think your refusal is a service to them? How stupid."

He tightened his grip around the stranger, condescending words hidden under an artificially sweet tone. "Let's show Niko what he's in for, hm?"

Reyo's cruelty surfacing again, as he laughed at their panicked struggles. Seemingly unbothered as they managed to bite into his fingers. He kept his hand tightly over their mouth as color ran down his arm.

Niko wanted to run but he was too terrified. Aware of his every heart beat as he watched, completely frozen.

Reyo's claws dug into the demons cheek as he pulled their head back at an unnatural angle. Flashing a toothy grin at Niko before biting down with force on their exposed skin.

The stranger's eyes widening as they tried to grasp for air. Reyo's jaws still tightly clenched around their throat as a sharp ripping motion brought blood to the stranger's mouth.

Niko watched in shocked fear. Unable to form a coherent thought. Wincing at every flinch the dying stranger made.

He's- like a rabid animal

The gruesome scene before him erasing any hope he had of survival, red smothering it all. Gasping in the air as though he was underwater. Drowning in powerless fear as he hid behind closed eyelids. Overflowing down his face to meet the red below.

That color will suffocate me as well

*****

Next: Sub-zero

Taglist:

@abitefullofeverything

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Eidolon 14 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:  AU: What started off as the result of a simple act of rebellion ends up causing his life to spin out of control. How will young Danny cope with the results as well as a past that has a strange habit of coming back to haunt him.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, kidnapping, and various other things

Chapter warnings: implied character death. Entrapment

Parings: hints of Danny/Sam much later on

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr

Chapter 14: History

"Sweetie, could you hand me the socket wrench? I think it's somewhere to your left…" a woman asked as she looked up from the device she was creating to glance at her daughter calmly reading on a worn couch about twenty yards behind her.

The girl being addressed sighed but complied with the request. She moved to a nearby tablet and quickly began searching through various stacks of blueprints of various inventions yet to be invented to find the tool which was possibly lurking underneath. "Mom!" she called out rather sheepishly a few moments later, "which one is it again?"

"It's the silver one that looks like it has a nozzle on the end."

"Well… that's not very specific."

A few moments later, the girl came over to the woman's workbench and produced a few different tools. Chuckling, the woman grabbed the needed tool, placed to others on a nearby table, and thanked her daughter. Quickly, she began tightening a nut needed to keep her project together. It needed to be stable if it was going to do its job.

"Um… what exactly are you making again?" her daughter asked after a few awkward moments of examining the device.

"It's a containment unit to trap ghosts," she explained without missing a beat of her work. "I thought I had mentioned this one to you before."

"Probably, but you know it's hard for me to keep all of your various inventions straight." The girl fell silent and started to head back towards the couch. "Mom…" she called out before she had reached her destination, "If he's just going to destroy your work, why do you continue to make all of these inventions? It's not like they'll help us escape."

Now it was the woman's turn to sigh. She gently put her tools down, pushed her red safety goggles up, and turned towards the younger girl while adopting an understanding expression. "Jazz… I know what I do seems pointless at times… But, if we can manage to either trap or incapacitate Vlad, then maybe we can finally get out of here."

"But Mom, in case you forgot, we need a ghost to get out of here! That maniac put us in a room with no door, no windows, and a ventilation system way too small for a human to even consider using for an escape! Unless you've found a way to safely blast through eight feet of steel enforced concrete, even if you can incapacitate him, what good will it do?

The woman bit her lip at her daughter's words. "It does seem hopeless, but I refuse to give up. We are going to get out of here, somehow. I promise." She gave Jazz a glance conveying the conversation was finished for the moment before turning back to her work.

Dealing with a teenager was difficult on the best of days, but when she was the only completely living person the woman had contact with for the previous thirteen years or so, trying to convey hope was exceedingly she was, Madeline (Maddie) Fenton, ghost hunter and paranormal research extraordinaire trying to convince her daughter they would be able to escape, when she had been utterly trapped and neutralized by a ghost who could disguise itself as a human. If only she had realized such a thing was possible years prior, there was a chance she could have prevented their current predicament and the separation of their family.

The man had seemed nice enough when he had introduced himself to her and her husband, Jack, all those years ago. He had even helped fund their various anti-ghost projects, but it was all a sham. The man had only gotten close to them to keep an eye on their research and any children they might have. She should have seen the warning signs when he brought up that one particular legend, but she, like Jack, just brushed if off as simple curiosity.

But, soon after Maddie became pregnant with her second child, Vlad's interest in their family started to verge on obsessive. It worsened after they found out the gender of the growing child. This, his possession of one particularly old book, and the growing notion he was somehow involved in the raids on the lab by the ghost known as Plasmius had forced her to reconsider Vlad as the person who would look after her children if anything would happen to her and Jack.

About a year after her son was born, the attacks from Plasmius on their research compound and home had gotten much worse, and Vlad's behavior had gotten more eccentric. Worried, she contacted an old friend of hers who had worked with her and Jack in the past and explained the situation to him. He seemed to understand the situation and agreed to her request. Not wasting any time, Maddie sent him a copy of the new will she and Jack created so he could look over it before it was finalized. Unfortunately, she never got the chance.

Plasmius had managed to find a way to get by their security system and enter the main part of the house. Maddie barely had a chance to hide her son before Plasmius knocked her out. When she awoke, she found herself alongside her husband and daughter in what appeared to be a large concrete room with no apparent doors or windows. Little did she know it would become her prison for the next fourteen years.

When Plasmius (who revealed himself to also be Masters) demanded to know where their son was, both she and Jack refused to tell him. He appeared to take it well and left them to their own devices for a couple weeks. During those weeks, the only outside interactions they had were with the ghostly servants who tended to their needs and furnished the room. Maddie still could fondly recall the way Jack tended to attempt to attack the servants on sight.

When Vlad reemerged, he was absolutely livid. Her son had been found where she had hidden him, but the courts had refused to let Vlad anywhere near the child due to the presence of the document her friend held. While surprised the courts ruled it as official, Maddie couldn't help but be pleased. However, Vlad found it as unforgivable and took his rage out on Jack. Maddie still was not entirely sure what happened to her husband after Vlad took him, but Vlad had given her enough hints for her to understand Jack was dead.

After her husband's death, she believed the same fate would befall her and Jazz, but it never came. Vlad had developed somewhat of a liking for both of them and had gone to great lengths to keep them happy and healthy. Her concerns turned to her missing son, who was still outside of Vlad's reach. The boy's new guardian had disappeared from Vlad's sights making the hybrid furious. What Maddie never understood was why the man never used his abilities to overturn the different court orders to gain control of the child or even just kidnap him. The only thing she could fathom was either he could not properly forge signatures or it dealt with his pride as a man, if one could refer to him as such.

After about a year of imprisonment, Maddie devoted herself to three main goals: educating her daughter, escaping, and taking care of Vlad for good. When she wasn't helping Jazz increase her knowledge with the books and materials Vlad had given them, she was working on weaponry which had the potential of fighting off Vlad and his servants (though most of them were relatively harmless). Unfortunately, it seemed as if Vlad had a means of spying on her as he seemed to always know what she was making and would frequently take and/or destroy her work, forcing her to start from scratch. Though it was disheartening, she was not going to give up. From her perspective, getting a handle on Vlad was the only route of a feasible escape.

Though most of her thoughts retained to the protection of her daughter, she would occasionally wonder about her son. She had no knowledge of his life which she supposed was a good thing. The less she heard, the better as it meant Vlad was not making progress. However, there were whispers among the staff involving Vlad's interest in a recent case involving missing documents in a single parent household. Though it was probably no big deal, Maddie had an uneasy feeling every time she thought of it.

…..

An odd noise caught her attention around dinnertime. It almost sounded like a yell. Glancing over at Jazz, Maddie noted her daughter also had heard it. She looked in the direction of the noise just in time to catch someone falling from the ceiling. Unsure who had intruded into their space, she grabbed her newest completed weapon, an ecto-staff (complete with retractable edges), and slowly approached the newcomer. The person lying on the ground appeared young and completely knocked out. But, her assumption was quickly proven wrong as the figure groaned slightly before shakily standing up.

It was a teenage boy, or at least its appearance suggested it was, with startling white hair and a mostly black wardrobe. The white aura around him indicated he was a ghost, but Maddie had never seen a ghost fall such a manner which made her suspicious. Deciding to gain the upper hand in the situation before he could react, she snuck up on him while he was glancing around and stabbed him in the back with her staff, effectively shocking him. Secretly glad her invention worked, she removed the weapon from him back and then used it to slam him into the closest wall.

"Don't move!" Maddie hissed at the boy after shocking him again with the staff. "I don't know why Vlad sent you, but I am not going to let a ghost harm either me or my daughter!"

"Hold on a second!" The ghost's voice was full of fear and confusion as he held up his hands in protection. The echo in his voice made him a little difficult to understand, but it was the same with most ghosts. "I'm not going to hurt you! I didn't even realize you were here!"

Her response was to shock him again. "Nice try, ghost!" she snarled after his screams died down. Most ghosts, no matter how friendly they seemed, lied. It was in their nature to try and trick the living.

"Wh-what are you talking about….? What ghost? I'm… I'm not a ghost!"

Maddie raised an eyebrow as she studied the boy. He seemed genuinely confused; she could see it in his eyes. Was it possible this ghost didn't actually know it was a ghost? No, that was impossible."Oh, and I suppose normal people have unnaturally white hair and glow?" she asked sarcastically trying to force him to admit he was lying.

"Hey, that was something Vlad did to me…!" he retorted indignantly before realization seemed to hit him. "Wait a minute…. I'm glowing?" A frown crossed his features as he examined his hands and noticed the pale light emanating from his body. "Why the hell am I glowing? What was in that drink he gave me?"

She stared at him in amazement. "You didn't even realize…" she muttered to herself as the scientist in her started to emerge. "You're either a good actor or newly formed…" Examining him more, she quickly threw out the notion he was acting. Everything about him, from his body language to the honest surprise in his shockingly green eyes, indicated his expressions were genuine. But, ghosts weren't supposed to be able to be so expressive, unless they were newly formed as they still had some recollection of their human life. If he was newly formed, it represented such a great possibility! "Hmm… I've never gotten to study a newly formed ghost before…"

The boy seemed to understand her intensions and immediately tried to scoot away from her. Fascinating! Didn't he realize he could just phase through the wall? "Look, I really didn't mean to bother you!" he told her quickly as he glanced around for an escape route. "I really want to leave as much as you seem to want me to. So… if you could please just show me where the door is, I'll be out of your hair."

Maddie didn't answer him immediately which caused him to cringe. She was far too interested in his physiology. After powering down her staff, she placed the end of her staff to lift the boy's chin. "Fascinating! Your body structure is incredibly similar to that of a human's, and you clearly still think like one." It was true. He was the most human-looking ghost she had ever seen. If it wasn't for the white hair and glow, he would look exactly like a normal teenager. Even his skin color could pass as a human's. Normally, the closest a ghost got was a sickly pale white, but this kid was actually tan. Maybe his appearance would become more ghost-like as he got older.

"'Think'? What's with this think business? I am human!"

She was about to retort when her daughter suddenly pushed her aside. "You're scaring him!" she scolded before turning towards the boy and extended her hand. "Here, I'll help you up. By the way, my name is Jazz."

The ghost looked at Jazz warily before accepting the hand. "I'm Danny," he told her with a smile as she pulled him to his feet. Maddie was surprised how easily the ghost was able to interact with her daughter. Though most ghosts could interact with the physical world, it tended to take some effort. They boy seemed to have no problems whatsoever. Maybe it was another particularity of such a young ghost. "And… I … uh, didn't mean to come in here, I promise. I was just trying to get away from Vlad…" He coughed awkwardly for a moment before he looked around. "Um, where exactly am I anyways?"

Jazz was obviously amused by his response. After patting his shoulder, she led him towards her favorite couch, an old and patched gray thing she refused to let Vlad replace. "Let's exchange information. You're obviously confused by this just as much as we are."

Maddie watched the interaction with a wary eye. While she wasn't too keen on letting the ghost get close to her daughter, it didn't seem like it was hostile. Maybe hostility was another trait which was age dependent. No matter the reason, it was still a great opportunity to study the boy. It also gave another possibility; he could have some information on Vlad she could use. So, observing was her best course of action, for now.

…

"And I thought my situation was bad!" Danny remarked after he listened to Jazz explain their situation. He leaned back, allowing himself to rest his head on the back of the couch. "I can't imagine being trapped in a place like this for so long. And there isn't any way to escape?"

Jazz shook her head. "Trust me; we've looked over this place hundreds of times with no luck."

A frowned crossed Danny's face as he considered it. "It's just like the room he had me in… except it at least had a door. Man, that guy really is a fruitloop. Why has he kept you here for so long?"

"He hasn't exactly privileged us with that information," Maddie sniffed as she stared at the ghost. While he didn't seem like a threat, she still wasn't sure he wasn't under Vlad's control. "I'm surprised he hasn't told you."

"I keep telling you I have nothing do with that guy! Not only did he kidnap me and give me this weird stuff, but Winston told me he's the one who attacked my family!"

"Hey…" Jazz quickly interrupted noticing Maddie was starting to get irritated. She inwardly smiled at her daughter; Jazz was really good at reading her mood. "You've mentioned this drink Vlad gave you a couple times now… What exactly was it?"

"Not sure…" he replied with a frown. "I was trying to break down the door to that room I was in when he came in and somehow managed to be in two places at the same time. One of the Vlads held me still while the other forced this nasty tasting green glowing stuff down my throat. Next thing I know, I'm sick to my stomach and in a lot of pain." He grimaced and grabbed his arms as he recalled the event. "After I woke up… Vlad came in and started talking about this curse before dragging me in front of a really big mirror. After catching a glimpse of my appearance, I freaked out, ran for my life, and tripped over my own feet. Next thing I know, I'm in a strange room being stabbed by that staff." He glared at Maddie. "What exactly did you do to it to make to shock people like that?"

"Hold on a moment… you 'caught a glimpse of your appearance'?" Jazz paraphrased slowly. "So, you're implying you didn't look like you currently do before getting here?"

"Yes! What's so hard to understand about that?" Danny's voice was full of frustration. "I don't know why Vlad changed my clothes and hair color. Where does that guy get off dying someone's black hair white? It's going to take forever to get all of this bleach out…"

Maddie shared a look with her daughter as Danny examined one of the snowy locks near his face. He really didn't seem to understand exactly what had happened to him, and he certainly didn't seem to realize he was no longer human. He was even sitting perfectly on the worn out couch like a regular person. Normally, even when sitting, ghosts tended to float above the piece of furniture instead of touching it.

But, there was a bigger implication to the ghost's words. He was suggesting he was still alive when Vlad had gotten a hold of him. If Vlad had indeed killed the boy than how many of the other spirits they had encountered through the years had met their fate in the same way?

"So… Danny," Jazz stated suddenly in an attempt to change the subject, "how old are you?"

He frowned for a moment before he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Hmm… that is a good question. Since I'm not exactly sure how long I've been here, I'm not sure if my birthday's passed. If it has, I'm fifteen now."

Maddie had to turn away for a moment after listening to the boy. Usually she was unaffected by the words of a ghost, but this one was different. He was approximately the same age as her missing son. Had he been taken away from his family like hers had been? At least she was still alive and would eventually be able to try and reconnect with the boy when she eventually escaped. This child would never get the same chance.

…...

About an hour had gone by since Danny had fallen through the ceiling. While the boy was proving to be surprisingly good company, Maddie was surprised no one else had visited them as dinner time had passed. Suspicious, but not overly alarmed, she turned her attention back towards the boy.

Though Danny had initially come across as shy, he was actually rather talkative and had a good sense of humor. Even she was warming up to him, though she wasn't going to admit it. She did allow herself to politely offer him a drink from the small fridge Vlad had given them in an attempt to play hostess. Amazingly, he drank it with no apparent problem. Ghosts weren't supposed to be able to handle human foods, but perhaps since he was so young he still had something of a human constitution. She was going to have to ask the boy to allow her to study him more in depth.

While the boy was telling a joke, he suddenly gasped and shivered. "Danny… are you okay…?" Jazz asked him hesitantly as she touched his shoulder. A small gasp escaped her as she watched a faint mist form from his breath before disappearing. How peculiar. Ghosts shouldn't be able to breathe, and it certainly wasn't cold enough in the room for it to be visible.

"Someone's coming…" Danny stated as he stood up and looked at the ceiling. His breath misted again as he spoke.

Maddie looked at him curiously. "What do you mean? Are you telling me you can sense other ghosts?"

"I… I don't know… But I think it's Vlad… Great… just what I need right now…"

"Are you sure?" If this boy was telling the truth, he presented an interesting possibility. This was the first time she had ever heard of such a power.

Danny wasn't able to give an answer before Vlad phased through the ceiling in about the area where he had been staring. The man looked agitated as he glanced around the room before allowing his gaze to focus on her and the two teenagers. A smile graced his lips as he floated down to their level.

"Ah, Maddie, Jasmine, you look wonderful today," he told them as a form of a greeting. "I do hope you forgive me for dinner being late today. A certain someone disappeared, and it's been a mess trying to find him." His attentions turned towards Danny, who hesitantly backed away. "My dear boy, how did you ever manage to end up down here?"

When Danny didn't answer, Vlad rubbed his eyes and continued to talk. "Though I had planned on introducing you to the girls eventually, I was hoping you would have a much better grasp of your powers before then. No matter… In fact, this may actually work to my advantage." He glanced at back at Maddie and gave a strange smile. "So, my dear, do you recognize him? I've heard a mother will always have some sort of recognition when she encounters a child she hasn't seen in years."

Maddie narrowed her eyes at the strange comment. "What are you talking about?" She glanced to her side to check where her staff was. Drat! Why didn't she grab it when it Vlad entered the room?

"Oh, how silly of me," he said as he placed his hand over his face in feigned embarrassment. "It would be much harder to recognize him in this form. Come here, Daniel."

The boy shook his head and continued to move away. "No way! I'm not letting a sicko like you come anywhere near me again."

"When will you learn you are in no position to argue?" Vlad's tone was rather resigned as he tiredly made three duplicates of himself.

As Danny kept switching his glance between the different Vlads in a terrified manner, Maddie snuck over and grabbed her staff. She kept her movements as quiet as possible until she noticed the clones were about make a move to grab the boy. "Danny, run!" she shouted as she attacked what she believed to be the original with her staff.

"You'll regret that, woman!" the hybrid snarled as he and two of the clones turned their attention to her.

One of them shot a beam of pink ecto-energy while another disappeared. She easily blocked it with her staff, as most ecto-infused weapons could deflect such attacks, before using it to stab the air behind her. A grunt of pain told her she had hit her mark; Vlad could be so predictable some times. Bringing the bottom of the staff up from the ground, she nailed the ghost in the chin to giving him an injury somewhat comparable to that of an upper cut. She then flipped the staff to use the momentum to bring it horizontally and nail him again in the face. A satisfying crash told her he was down for the moment. One down, three more to go.

She quickly jumped back as another blast was sent her way. As soon as she landed, she had to lean back as the other Vlad involved in her fight swung a right hook at her. Recovering before he could, she swung the bottom of her staff up towards her so she could circle it and hit him. The ghost tried to turn intangible before it hit, but the ecto-energy within the staff still sent a painful shockwave through him. Bringing the bottom of the staff up, she switched the position of her hands to allow her to bring the tip down on the top of his head. Sensing the approach of another clone from behind her, she thrust the staff backwards,hitting the him, before sliding it back forwards to once again hit her previous opponent.

Quickly adjusting her hands again, she swung the staff around, much like an overly large baseball bat, catching both of her opponents as the move caused her to crouch. Bringing the rear end of the staff to the floor, she slid the tip out until it was resting under the opponent behind her as she turned around. Standing, she shifted positions and brought the end of the staff right between Vlad's knees. She could hear him slump to the floor as she turned her attention back towards the other one. Somewhere on her right, she could see the Vlad she hit earlier getting up from the floor.

The frustrating thing about ghosts was their incredible resilience. While they could be damaged with the proper weapon, they were easily able to recover if given the time. Though Vlad was somehow only half ghost, he still possessed the annoying trait making him a difficult opponent, even if she was the better fighter. And, he was an expert at distractions.

A yell somewhere to her side caught her attention. The one Vlad which had gone after Danny had finally gotten a hold of him. Vlad was trying to say something when an irritated, "Get away from him!" was shouted followed by a heavy book being thrown. Though the book easily passed through Vlad, he did give Jazz a rather irritated look.

"I would stay out of this if I were you, girl," he retorted as he raised his hand towards her. Pink energy circle the outstretched hand as he kept the other firmly attached to Danny's shirt.

"You leave my daughter alone!" Maddie shouted as she started to charge towards the fourth Vlad. Her movements were cut short as she was grabbed from behind by several hands. She struggled only to find she was effectively stuck and at least a few inches from the ground.

"Just sit back and watch the show," one of the Vlads hissed in her ear. "Struggling won't get you out of this mess."

"Now that all of the distractions are gone…" the Vlad holding Danny looked over the terrified boy rather carefully. "You've caused quite a lot of trouble today… I would be more careful in the future. You wouldn't want the people who care about you to get hurt, would you?"

Danny was barely able to mumble an answer when Vlad started sending shocks through his body. Maddie watched in horror as the boy screamed as he started to convulse. After an agonizing moment, Vlad stopped the shocks and held the limp boy by the arm seemingly waiting for something. After a moment, a dazzling blue-white ring appeared from Danny's waist. It quickly spilt in two; each half traveling along both halves of his body. When the lights died down, a completely different boy was dangling from Vlad's grasp. This one had pitch black hair and lighter skin. Even the outfit was different.

Apparently satisfied, the solitary Vlad glanced at Maddie and held up the seemingly unconscious boy. "Maddie, meet your long lost son, Daniel Fenton." He then flung the boy onto the gray couch. As he did so, the other Vlads let go of Maddie and were absorbed back into the other one. "As you can see, he has come into his birthright… though he doesn't look anything like what either of us were expecting. But, I'm not overly bothered. There are things I must prepare for him, so until I return, look after him. I dare say you should welcome this as a great time to bond with him. Ta!" With a mocking grin, he floated up towards the ceiling and disappeared.

Maddie, though no longer trapped by the ghost, was unable to move as she stared at the boy on the couch. This child… this ghost, was really her son? But how…?

She collapsed to the floor and tried to hold back her tears. She had tried to prevent this! Vlad wasn't supposed to get a hold of him! And Danny… poor Danny, she and Jack had done research to try and prevent him from becoming like Vlad, but it had all been for naught. She should have known better than to try and fight fate. But, how was she going to live with herself when the sweet boy from before became the monster from her nightmares?

=== End of chapter notes:

It was actually pretty fun to write Maddie's fight scene. I've actually taken Kung Fu in the past and was fortunate enough to learn some staff forms. With my staff currently sitting in the living room (where I usually tend to do my writing), I was able to grab it and fool around with different movements and forms to try and get a semi-realistic fight going in my mind. But, staff movements aren't easy to describe. There aren't a lot of technical terms and you can't swing them sideways without picking them up in certain ways. The circling I describe is in reference to switching staff positions/forms. Note, when you learn how to work with a staff, it's usually taller than you are.

Vlad is a master manipulator, strategist, and can fight, but knowing he tends to let others do his work, I'm fairly certain Maddie would be able to take him in a real fight if he didn't get a chance to plan it out. Sure, Maddie could have gained the upper hand on him a while ago, but that's exactly why he takes away her weapons. The staff escaped due to the ends being retractable allowing it to be stored in odd places. Yes, I thought about this.