#He wonders why I show no ambition well when I brought concerns and ideas to table you threw them out sir

[poundfooolish]

my work is undergoing a lot of restructuring and we're all getting shuffled off to new teams, and my boss just floated to me a team he thinks I'd be a good fit for, basically doing the same stuff I'm doing now with a closer focus on just fixing problems, ie, my favorite part of the job

If I do actually get moved to this new team though the actual new favorite part of the job is gonna be no longer working under this man

[hualianff]

Vampire/Human AU

(Slight NSFW, angst)

Thinking about vampire HC who owns a vampire-friendly bar with humans who apply as donors to supply fresh blood for vampires willing to pay the expensive prices. When a human with beautiful amber eyes, soft facial features, and blood that smells absolutely delectable, walks in, every vampire whips their heads towards the door. The human approaches one of the staff, YY, to inquire about becoming a donor. HC watches as the enticing morsel follows YY into a room to finalize his application.

Right after the human leaves thirty minutes later–YY probably having said it would take a few days to find him a match–HC pulls YY aside, demanding to have a look over the papers the new donor filled out. After a quick scan, HC shoves the papers back to YY with a click of his tongue,

“No need to find him a match. He’s mine.”

A human whose blood smells heavenly, who has never been bitten or even nipped by a vampire. HC wants to corrupt him. Ruin him.

The next night, HC has the human, XL, meet him in his personal feeding room. There’s a luxurious velvet couch to the side, a pristine glass table with fancy wine and glasses, and a king-sized bed with crimson silk laid upon the mattress.

HC, like most vampires, typically feeds while stimulating their donors. This can be done with something as simple as kissing or full-on intercourse. Not only does this relax the human’s nerves so they won’t tense up before being bitten, but the toxins injected into their system after being bitten feels incredibly euphoric, serving as a kind of aphrodisiac. Many humans donate their blood in this way for the sole reason of attaining this heightened sense of pleasure.

But as soon as XL enters the room in front of HC, his mind freezes as he sees the bed.

“I’m a virgin,” he blurts out, wide eyes panicked as he looks at the vampire. HC raises his eyebrow, unperturbed.

“We can work with that.”

XL gulps.

“I’ve also never kissed anyone.”

HC runs a tongue along his sharp fangs.

“Do you want to change that?” The vampire asks, walking up behind the human, pressing his chest against XL’s back. HC hears XL’s heart rate pick up at the proposition. It’s an unspoken yes, though XL also imperceptibly nods his head. He does not see HC’s lips spread into a vicious grin. However, XL does feel lips brush against the shell of his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

“Use your words, precious. Do you want to be kissed? Want to be touched, experience pleasure beyond comprehension?” HC murmurs, skimming his lips across XL’s nape. “I can fuck you too. Push into your little body as I sink my fangs into your neck. I’d place them right here-“ HC taps XL’s jugular, the human jerking to the side with a gasp. “-oh? So sensitive. All the better. I can make you feel so good.”

XL’s breath quickens, ever so slightly leaning back into HC’s tall frame. HC leans forward to catch a glimpse of those doe eyes regarding him with caution. Oh, how he wants to eat this human alive. HC turns XL around by his shoulders. He lowers his head to bump foreheads with XL, forcing the human to look into his red-tinged eyes.

“Is that a yes?”

XL blinks those doe eyes once, then twice.

“Yes.”

HC brings his hand up to brush a hair away from the human’s head.

“Wonderful.”

***

XL is at the point in his life when he lost everything. He chose to pursue a career outside of his parents’ embroidery business despite being expected to take over the shop after college. Abandoning college altogether, XL went off on his own to chase his dream to become a singer.

A few years later, where XL was provinces away from home, XL’s parents’ business had gone under, devastating them as they could no longer pay for their medical bills. Upon hearing the news, XL rushed back home to take care of them. It seemed they had kept their declining health conditions under wraps. They were too prideful to admit their weakening physical states; they also did not want to guilt XL into giving up on his ambitions to take care of them.

XL’s parents lasted one year before passing away, his father first due to prostate cancer, his mother one month later after succumbing to exhaustion and grief. XL lost their home along with the shop merely a week later, unable to pay off the debt. His parents had used up their savings for their medical expenses and XL had been scraping by as a musician for years. Additionally, there was no one he could confide in. He had lost contact with his friends as he moved from city to city, busking on streets, attempting to catch the attention of music labels.

XL was utterly alone. There were days when not even music could bring an ounce of comfort. However, music was the thing that kept him sane between the various side jobs he managed to pick up to keep him off the streets.

As if the fates decided XL had had enough bad luck for a lifetime, a CEO of a fairly well-known label offered him a business card after a busking session. It was JW of Capital Records who gave XL hope of achieving his dream. XL spent most of his late 20s under the label, training and practicing and producing. He had the chance to record a couple of singles and one mini-album–which he didn’t get to participate much in the production side–but other than that, XL didn’t make it far. He was tremendously overworked and yet, still discarded to the side.

Wondering why he wasn’t provided the opportunities other artists received to further their careers, XL scheduled a one-on-one meeting with the CEO to ask what he was lacking. JW had insisted he could give XL more opportunities if XL could offer something more than just his serene vocals and pretty face.

The unspoken suggestion that XL offer up his body pierced his heart with yet another stake. Overwhelming disappointment and betrayal crashed into XL, but perhaps he should have known better that the whole situation was too good to be true. XL vehemently rejected this idea, angering JW who eventually tore XL down to the point of a medical emergency that allowed him to leave the agency without repercussions.

At age thirty-two, XL was left with no family, mental and physical trauma, and a dying will. Ironically enough, the song lyrics he’d written after experiencing so much loss were the closest thing to making music he’d gotten. But in the end, XL still felt like a failure.

Now in Xi’an, XL was left with limited options to earn money for rent. He already worked two part-time jobs in addition to writing music—though even time set aside for this has dwindled.

One night, as XL was walking home after closing up the convenience store, he saw the neon lights of the sign “Ghost City.” He’s heard many things about this club and is no stranger to the existence of nonhuman creatures roaming amongst human society. After hours of research, XL decided to apply to become a blood donor. It’s not like he had a better option that paid more anyway.

XL’s hope to somehow redeem his past actions has all but fizzled out. He doesn’t expect a vampire like HC to care about his comfort or consent when feeding, though HC still prioritizes these things for some reason.

XL has never looked at his body and thought about the best ways to pleasure himself. HC shows him how. HC caresses and kisses XL like he’s worth being handled with care; HC also invades XL’s body as a threat to break it, broadcasting a vampire’s strength, speed, and endurance in the bedroom.

XL can go as far as to say he even looks forward to his time with HC. In between a busy work life and dealing with people who would rather look the other way than give him the time of day, XL’s mind and body steadily weaken.

It starts with memory loss, where XL can’t clearly remember the conversations he’d had the day before. One of the reasons this develops is because he goes through many days without having anyone to tell about his day. It’s like the life XL lives is so insignificant, nothing about it is worth remembering.

Then, it’s the lack of eating. Most of XL’s money goes towards rent, essentials, and groceries. But he’s not a great cook. And he’s already drained by the time he gets home after working both jobs and visiting Ghost City. XL’s stress doesn’t help, adding to the fatigue that gradually shuts his body down.

While HC might not be able to taste a difference in XL’s blood, he does notice how frail the human moves around. How delayed XL responds, more so than he should be–even as a human. XL has scheduled more visits: three times a week this time. However, his words become less. He stops telling the little stories that brought a small smile to his face. XL doesn’t even mention the songs he’s been working on lately.

HC forces himself to ask about them after an especially rough coupling.

“How’s the songwriting going, darling?” HC asks quietly. He props his elbow upon his pillow, resting his cheek on his hand as he intently observes the human struggling to catch his breath, eyelids fluttering.

“I haven’t written anything new,” XL breathily answers. HC purses his lips. He ducks down to affectionately tongue at the skin his fangs pierced.

“No? In how long?” HC asks. XL sighs heavily.

“Maybe three weeks.”

HC doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s not one to console anybody. No one had afforded him that luxury, and naturally, he did not grant anyone else his concern. The silence that follows is unbearable.

***

The next time XL visits, he’s the one to initiate their first kiss. HC growls happily against his human’s lips, pinning him against the closed door of his private room. XL moans obscenely as HC languidly licks into his mouth. His arms desperately wrap around HC’s neck to bring him closer.

“Someone’s eager,” HC says with a chuckle as he pulls back. XL instantly attaches his lips to the vampire’s jaw, peppering light kisses along the pale skin. HC can’t help but think he’s taught his little human well. XL hums while trailing his lips back to HC’s, capturing them in a kiss that’s the sweetest one yet.

HC should’ve noticed how unstable XL’s legs seemed, how dreadful the bags under his eyes looked before indulging in their bedroom activities. He should’ve kept track all along of how thin XL is, how much more skin and bone he had become. HC is certainly not one to intrude on someone else’s life and scrutinize all their choices. But he should’ve said something sooner.

Maybe then, XL’s heart wouldn’t have stuttered so violently, or completely stopped beating for five counts.

HC watches in horror as XL’s eyes roll into the back of his head. His human’s body goes limp in his arms, collapsing into HC’s chest. When XL’s heart beat starts up again, it’s very weak. There’s a noticeable abnormality in its rhythm.

HC quickly gathers XL in his arms and speeds to the bed. He sits back against the pillow, placing XL to recline against his front. HC hooks his arms around XL’s middle from behind, anxiously listening to XL’s irregular heartbeat that seems like it takes all of his human’s energy to pump. Luckily, XL awakens a few minutes later. He registers a cold embrace and warm puffs of breath lingering near his ear.

“Did I pass out?” XL wheezes out, unconsciously melting into the body behind him.

“Yes,” HC says tightly. “Your heartbeat is uneven. Something is wrong.”

XL can’t tell if he’s imagining it but that sounded like worry in the vampire’s tone.

“Oh.”

HC inhales sharply.

“You just fainted, Xie Lian. Hell, your heart just stopped for a few seconds, and all you have to say is ‘oh?’” HC grinds out.

So he is upset. XL swallows thickly, not wanting to escalate things and further upset the vampire.

“It’s okay,” XL says. “I’m okay-“

“No. You’re not,” HC interrupts.

XL takes a deep breath, wincing slightly as HC tightens his arms around his hips. He’s more sensitive than normal, XL realizes. Before XL can defend himself further, HC grasps XL’s chin and turns his head to face the vampire.

“You’re hiding something from me,” he states. He hears XL’s heart speed up. “There’s no use in lying. I can tell you’ve grown weaker since you first came.”

“Well, I have been donating my blood to a certain vampire for a few months now. I’m bound to be a bit weak in my legs,” XL replies as a matter of factly. He means to poke fun at the situation rather than acknowledge the severity of it. HC knows this because he’s done it numerous times himself. But when XL does it, it makes HC’s blood boil.

“Are you saying I am causing this- this deterioration in your health?” HC asks tensely. XL lets out a gasp, whirling around in HC’s arms, immediately backpedaling.

“No! No, not at all.”

HC’s eyes assess his human who trembles slightly in his arms. He cradles XL in between his legs, hands shifting XL further up his body so he can rest his head on HC’s chest. HC gently pets XL’s hair, an action that was uncharacteristic of him months ago, before XL had walked through the entrance of his bar.

XL gently smiles in an attempt to placate the vampire.

HC’s eyes flash a frightening scarlet.

“I don’t believe you.”

XL’s face crumples.

“It’s true! I’ve just been really busy is all. Work has been hectic and- and-“ gone is the innocence that HC once saw in XL’s doe eyes, instead replaced by stress and utter brokenness that alarms the vampire to no end. A voice in the back of HC’s head snarls that those emotions had always been behind XL’s eyes; they were simply better hidden, and HC had been too lust-driven to notice.

XL continues his rambling, frantically shaking his head. “-I took some extra shifts because I needed the money to pay for some water damage that flooded half my apartment. I’m fine—truly.“

If HC had a beating heart, it would have dropped down to his stomach at the sudden realization. His fingers dig into the paper-thin skin of XL’s hips, then trace up the bony knobs of his spine.

“You’re not eating right.”

“Wait- S-san Lang-“

The nickname HC had asked XL to call him is hurdled back into his face like a stone aimed to shatter. It sounds like a cry for help.

“And you’re not getting enough sleep,” HC concludes with a disapproving frown. His eyes now glow a deep crimson, matching the silken sheets that HC ensures are in perfect condition every time XL visits.

“Fuck, XIE LIAN, you know you need proper nutrition and rest to recover from each night you spend with me!” HC is nearly shouting now, voice wavering out of his control. Who knew another creature could make him feel so strongly?

“I-I am!”

“I SAID NOT TO LIE TO ME. I CAN TELL WHEN YOU’RE NOT BEING HONEST,” HC explodes, spatting those words with a poison that he often uses with uncooperative subordinates, but never directed at XL before.

Tears glisten in XL’s eyes as he’s cornered with no way out, no relief from the building pressure that suffocates him. Right now, after everything XL has been through, this seems to be his tipping point. He never expected HC to care this much. Or perhaps HC is just concerned his reliable supply of blood is flaking out on him, just when he’s had a feasible taste.

XL is sure HC has plenty of other donors to feed on. It’s not like XL is particularly special in that way. Frankly speaking, XL had time and time again asked the universe to give him one last sign that his life mattered in some capacity. But if he couldn’t see the value in his own life, who else could?

XL scrambles off from HC’s lap, allowing himself to speak with the deep-seated spite that has grown in his heart like an untamable weed.

“THERE’S NO NEED TO GET SO WORKED UP OVER MY HEALTH!! I’LL BE GONE SOON ANYWAY! THE DOCTOR GAVE ME THREE MORE MONTHS,” XL screams, having to catch his breath after exerting so much power into his voice. “So there. You have my answer. I’m not lying this time. Just one a couple more months and then- then you won’t have to deal with my shit anymore, okay?”

HC can’t move. He can’t speak either. The shock taking over his system renders his mind and body completely useless. He can only stare blankly at XL whose tears now cascade down his cheeks.  

No, this cannot be happening-

XL’s whimpers pull HC out of his head. The human hugs his own frail body, shivering from a coldness that does not exist in the room.

How did HC let it get so bad?

“I’m sick, San Lang. Very, very sick. Not just physically,” XL whispers defeatedly, letting out a small hiccup.

HC doesn’t hesitate to surge forward to throw his arms around XL, hugging him once more. It’s a habit now—to hold XL whenever he could. Now, HC wonders how many more times he would get this chance before it was inevitably the last.

“Xie Lian…”

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I-I just can’t eat. Sometimes from stress, other times I completely forget. And I want to rest, but I end up laying in bed awake for hours a-and my mind just won’t let me sleep-”

For the first time in over a decade, there is someone else to hear XL’s agonized wails.

“Please believe me, San Lang. Please."

[spaceorphan18]

Head Over Feet (1/14)

After Kurt and Blaine broke up the second time, they went their separate ways, living their separate lives in New York City. Fifteen years later, a retirement party brings them back together into each other's orbit, with surprising, for both of them, consequences. Are they able to fit each other into their already complicated and messy lives? And are these newfound feelings real? Or just echoes of a past relationship?

Canon Divergent after Season 5.

Ao3 Link

A/N: Yes, I know I have a bunch of other WIPs - and I am still working on all of them! But I’ve been so excited about this one, I just want to get it out there... 

Thanks to @snarkyhag for the beta. :) 

***

Chapter 1: Loser Like Me (Part One) 

Fall 2028

Blaine is dreaming.  It’s all fuzzy, but there are hands… familiar hands that are on him clasping his own, cupping his face, trailing down, down, down to where it feels good.  He begins to feel the warmth spread throughout his body.  He feels good, so good… Lips are against his, rough and hungry, he is enveloped in want, in need… He lets out a groan, letting the pleasure overtake him.  He reaches out, desperate for more, but as he does so, that good feeling starts to float away.  He makes a grasp for it, but it’s no longer there, and he is left cold and wanting more.  

And then his alarm goes off.  

Blaine wakes up hard as a rock.  He can’t remember the last time he had a dream about sex.  Maybe when he had been a teenager? Or possibly college?  But he doesn’t remember any of those dreams ending him with his dick actually aching to fuck something.  

He stares at the ceiling for a good long moment, thinking the urgency will eventually wear off.  He turns his head, slightly, to see the outline of his husband on the other side of the bed.  He doesn’t bother to wake Sean -- not that morning sex had ever been a part of their marriage.  They’re on opposite schedules; the show Sean is doing the costumes for is in the middle of its workshop, and if it gets picked up by a good producer, it could mean big things.  And Sean is cranky in the morning, anyway.  

Blaine can just as easily take care of himself.

He gets up, slowly.  The erection still hasn’t died down, and Blaine begins to wonder if this is even normal for someone his age.  Maybe he should call a doctor.  He laughs to himself.  Or maybe he should jack off and not worry about it.  

He moves off the bed, having to go around it to get to the bathroom.  In the process, he has to step over a huge pile of Sean’s clothes.  Blaine takes a moment to pick them up, and throw them into the laundry basket.  Two seconds, it takes.  Is that really so hard?  

The clothes also smell like booze and cigarettes, which means Sean has been staying out late with the company again.  It’s fine, they used to both go all the time to the afterparties and the clubs, but some time after Blaine hit thirty, he didn’t find them as enticing any more.  Something about feeling almost twice as old as everyone around him killed the spirit.

Blaine gets into the bathroom, turning on the light, and easily stripping out of the boxers that he wears to bed.  His dick is still throbbing to be touched, so he gives himself a few hardy strokes before turning on the water for a shower.  It’s weird, he thinks, as he gets in.  Sex used to be the a staple of his marriage but, as the years passed, he and Sean manage once a week if they’re lucky.  He hasn’t really missed it, or maybe he hasn’t noticed he missed it.  Because getting off with just his hand doesn’t normally feel so good.  

He indulges a little, thinking about that dream, and those hands on him.  Letting someone else take over, take control, take him apart.  He thinks, at first, of Sean, pulling from the catalogue of their sex life.  Sean being the one to hold him, and stroke him, and suck him down.  But as much as he tries to concentrate on his husband, the scene keeps pulling away, and there’s someone else there -- a faceless man with deft hands who knows exactly how Blaine likes to be touched.  

He speeds up his hand, and yet somehow it doesn’t feel like enough.  He braces himself against the tile of the bathroom wall, fucking furiously into his hand until his hips take on a life of their own.   Eventually he comes, jolting hard into his hand.  The orgasm tears through him, and he lets out a near scream that he hopes doesn’t wake Sean.  

It takes a moment to come down, and he leans against the tiles, enjoying the blissed out feeling as the hot water sprays over him.  He’s not sure what had brought all that on but he does feel more relaxed.  He’s been too pent up lately.  Maybe he does need to start seeing his therapist again…

***

On Wednesdays, Blaine only teaches one class and he is back home by noon in time, usually, to make himself lunch before heading out to do afternoon errands (or stay in and grade papers).  Before the workshop started, he and Sean would usually make Wednesday nights their together time.  But those have faded away over the past year or so.  Blaine has gotten used to spending the evenings alone, to the point that when Blaine arrives back at the apartment that afternoon, he’s startled to see Sean there making himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  

Sean stands against the counter, chewing the sandwich slowly as he watches Blaine put his bag and coat on one of the kitchen table chairs.   “You okay?” Sean asks, taking another bite.  A bit of crust lands in his red beard, and he brushes it off and onto the floor.  Blaine shakes his head, now he understands why the floor is always so filthy.  “You’re looking at me as if I’m a stranger in the house.”

“No, it’s fine,” Blaine says.  Maybe it’s not.  It feels, weirdly, like an intrusion on his private time, but the thought is laughable.  His husband is home -- he should be happy.  Blaine begins to rifle through the fridge, pulling out a container of tuna fish to have for lunch.  They could eat together, at the table, like civilized people.  “What happened with the workshop?”

“Remember me telling you about Ashleigh and Karyn and their obsessive ambition to be the first to win a Tony? Or whatever the fuck they’re actually looking for.”

“Yes.” No? Maybe? He can’t keep all of the cast members of Sean’s show straight.  But Blaine doesn’t really feel like listening to a who’s who tangent.  He finishes making the sandwich as Sean explains further.  

“Well, I don’t know how it started, but I know how it ended -- with the both of them in the hospital,” Sean says.  “So with both the lead and the understudy out, the workshop is on hold for a little while.”

“Wait, who was the lead again?” Blaine asks.  Sandwich made, he grabs some chips from the pantry and a bottle of water and heads to the kitchen table.  Sean follows him, leaving his now empty plate on the counter, before taking his usual seat across from Blaine.  

“Karyn,” Sean says, stealing some chips from Blaine’s bag.  “The blonde.”

“Right.”

“So, I guess you have me home for a while.”

Blaine plasters an immediate smile to his face.  He’s not entirely sure how to feel, though.  “Are you still getting paid?”

“Yeah,” Sean grabs more chips.  “Marv’s gotta girl lined up in case it takes longer.  Shouldn’t be more than a week.”  

“Ah.”  

Sean taps his fingers on the table.  Blaine sips from his water bottle.  There’s a siren outside somewhere, and the upstairs neighbor’s dog sprints back and forth, causing the ceiling to creek.  

“I paid the water bill,” Sean says after a long moment.  

“Great,” Blaine says.  “I still say we should get reimbursed for the neighbors tapping into our pipes.”  

“I’ll talk to Greg about it.”

“Great.”

Blaine eats his sandwich in a strange sort of silence as Sean watches him.  He feels like they should talk about something.  What do they usually talk about these days? Work? The apartment? The new musical mini-series Netflix put out?  Sean doesn’t ask how Blaine’s class went.  Blaine doesn’t offer to talk about it.  Nothing really feels like a good conversation.  

Which is why Blaine decides to mention it… “So, I had the weirdest dream last night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it was some kind of sex dream,” Blaine says, licking the tuna from his fingers.  “I woke up hard as fuck.”

Sean gives a smirk.  “I can’t tell if this is your way of telling me you want to fool around tonight, or if you’re concerned and want to see a doctor.”  

Blaine laughs into his water.  “I decided I’m too young still to have dick problems, and jacked off in the shower.”  

Sean’s eyes go wide with amusement.  “Shame I missed that show.  If you’re still feeling it, we can mess around after lunch if you want.”

Blaine gives an unenthused shrug.  “I’ve got some errands to run.  Then I’m having dinner with Santana tonight, but if you want to catch the late show, it can be arranged.”  

“We’ll see,” Sean says.  “I told some of the guys I’d meet them out for drinks tonight.  There’s a new bar opening over in SoHo.”

A flash of irritation runs through Blaine.  It’s not the turning down of sex that bothers him.  He really doesn’t want to spend his evening at a bar in SoHo.  He really doesn’t want to spend the evening with Sean’s questionable friends ‘Way-Too-Flirty’ Don and ‘Drinks-Too-Much’ Steve.  He doesn’t even really want to go out, especially when he has to teach an early morning class.  But he’s not there to tell Sean what to do.  

He finishes off the sandwich without a word.  It’s not like Sean feels differently about Santana.  

“You know, speaking of Santana, that reminds me,” Sean says, getting up from his seat.  He goes over to the counter and brings back a red envelope.  “This came for you today -- from McKinley High.”  

Blaine takes it with interest.  He gets mailers from Dalton Academy all the time -- even if he didn’t graduate from there, he had still technically been an alumni.  But something from McKinley?  That just seems weird.  It isn’t the right time for there to be a reunion.  He has no idea what it could possibly be.  

He opens it up to find a black and gold invitation. “Oh,” he says a little fondly as he reads it.  “My old glee club teacher is retiring.  He’s inviting everyone back for homecoming weekend to celebrate.  Cute.”  

Sean grabs at the paper after Blaine lets it drop back to the table.  “Do you want me to come with you?” he offers quietly.  

“Would you want to go?” It’s not often that Sean comes with him on the rare occasions he heads back to Ohio.  

Sean hesitates before he speaks, and snacks on another couple of chips before replying.  “I probably should stay to make sure Marv has a handle on this whole Ashleigh-Karyn thing.  That is, unless you’d like me to go.”  

Blaine stares hard at the paper.  It’s not like he couldn’t go.  He doesn’t have to teach on Fridays, and the school is having a holiday weekend that same weekend.  In theory, he could and it wouldn’t be a problem.  “I don’t even know if I should.”

“Maybe go to see your parents, Blaine,” Sean says.  “It’s got to be at least a few years since you’ve seen them.”

“I saw them last year at…” Blaine considers.  Has time really flown by so quickly? “Huh, I guess it has been at least two since that Christmas we spent in Ohio.” He sits back in his chair to think about it.  

“Hey, Blaine…” There’s suddenly a heaviness in the air.  There’s something behind Sean’s eyes that hadn’t been there earlier.  Something that Blaine catches glimpses of every once in a while.  Something that they’ve been avoiding and, for a moment, Blaine fears that Sean is actually going to bring it up.  The room gets darker, just a cloud passing by the sun, but everything is still -- too still, and Blaine’s heart begins to race.  The moment passes, though, and whatever Sean had been about to say changes.  “I guess talk to Santana about it, and see what she says.”

Blaine stares down at the paper again.  Suddenly, a weekend away from the apartment, away from the city, away from Sean doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.  “Yeah, I’ll do that.”  

***

The fall wind is sharp in its crispness, but it’s still a nice enough evening to go for a run in Central Park.  Three days a week, he and Santana Lopez go out for a jog then grab dinner at a nearby taco truck so they can sit and gossip.  Santana, who’s office isn’t far from where they meet, is already waiting for Blaine when he arrives.  She is stretching her legs, bent over in a V, wearing her usual black spandex pants with a bright, blue bomber jacket that billows slightly.  Her designer sunglasses rest on the top of her head.

Because he has been thinking about high school all day, he can’t help but think that she hasn’t changed much.  Her face has hardened a little with age, but Blaine knows her beauty care routine is much more extensive than his, and he knows how much she spends on wigs and dye jobs.  Today, though, her long, black hair is pulled back tightly in a high pony, amusingly reminiscent of how she wore it in high school.  

“Okay, so I have some hot goss for you today,” she says, immediately after they exchange pleasantries.  She waits for him to do his own stretching, but continues to launch into her news.  “So, you remember how I’ve been endlessly talking about the cute redhead on the floor below?”

“The one who works as a secretary for the greasy lawyer?” Blaine pulls his leg back.  The stretching feels nice, he is glad he is able to get out of the stuffy apartment in some capacity tonight, even if he can tell Santana is a bit more ramped up than usual.  

Santana nods.  “So for weeks now, it’s been flirty glances, and unbuttoning buttons to show off some pretty pricey brassieres, but you know, nothing direct.  Well, today she comes up to my floor, claiming the bathroom is not working in their offices -- and I checked, she was totally lying -- and she’s wearing this tight, and I mean tight, nearly see-through button-down.  With no bra.  She had on no bra.  I could see her fucking nipples, Blaine.”

“The nerve,” Blaine teases.  They begin to walk down their usual path.  They have a good quarter of a mile before they usually start jogging, though they might go the first half of their two miles at a walking pace just so Santana could release her pent up energy verbally.  

“Who doesn’t wear a bra in a professional setting?” Santana continues.  Blaine arches an eyebrow at her.  “Okay, so I have totally done it, but I promise you it was warranted.  Anyway, I think she’s trying to kill me.  I took all of my restraint not to pull her directly into the janitor’s closet and make out with her.  And play with her tits.  I can’t unsee her fucking hot tits, Blaine.” Santana grumbles, putting a fist to her head, as if it’ll magically erase the image.

“You know, you could ask for her number,” Blaine suggests, for maybe the third time since Santana has started talking about the woman.  “Or, you know, find out her name.”  

Santana looks at him sharply.  He knows, she just wants a minute to bitch and revel in her janitor closet fantasies, but it’s not in him not to offer suggestions.  “Her name is Liz.  I at least found that out today.”

“Well, that’s a start,” Blaine offers.  

“Alright, what’s up with you?” she asks abruptly.  “Usually, you’re talking my head off about school, and I’m always having to catch up to you.  You’re trailing me by nearly a foot.  Something’s going on.”

Santana’s senses are rarely off, he shouldn’t be as surprised as he is by it.  He tries to quicken his pace but she is right, he is been in his head all day.  “I’m thinking of going back to therapy.”  He says it simply, laying it out as if it’s another fact, and not something that’s been weighing on his mind.  

She gives him a concerned look.  “Is this a ‘just you’ thing? Or a ‘you and Sean’ thing?”

“A ‘just me’ thing,” he admits.  They are nearly at the lamp post where they usually start to jog, but he’s not feeling as up to it as he had been when he arrived at the park.  “Sean’s staying home for a few days, and I’ve been restless lately…” he doesn’t quite say the things he’s thinking.  “And, I don’t know, I had a weird sex dream this morning.  I’ve been off all day.”

“Well, what does Sean think?”

“He offered to fuck, but I told him I had it taken care of.”

“What, no, not about the sex dream,” Santana stops in her tracks.  They have to wait a moment for an older woman walking a doberman to pass in-between them.  “What does your husband think about you going to therapy?”

“It didn’t come up.”  

“God, Blaine,” Santana says, exasperated.  “Well, if you really would rather spend your evening with me than reconnecting with your husband who is, as you well know, built like a fucking viking, then maybe therapy is what you need.”

It’s more complicated than that.  She knows some of it, but maybe not all of it, and it’s more than Blaine would really like to get into on their fairly public walk through Central Park.  But Santana has also grown to be one of his closest friends and, if nothing else, he can confide in her.  

“I’m going to set up an appointment,” he tries to play it off as just another thing.  She knows better, and gives him one of her infamous staredowns.  “And if it’s something I think I need to continue to do, I’ll keep you informed,” he tries to assure her.  

“You better, Anderson.” Her voice is sharp.  “I may have a cold, dead heart, but I want you to be happy.  And you know I’m always going to be blatantly honest with you, so I say this with all the love I can muster, but I don’t think you are.”  

“I know, I know…” He’s not not happy.  He loves his job.  He loves his little apartment.  He loves being in one of the greatest cities in all of the world.  He and Sean are…  “So, hey, did you get your invitation to Mr. Schue’s retirement party?”  He begins to walk again.  He knows he’s avoiding the conversation, so does Santana.  But she rolls with it.  

“He’s retiring?  Dear god, he’s barely over fifty.”

Blaine lets out a little laugh.  “Well, that’s what the invitation said.”  

“And, fuck, no, I haven’t gotten one,” Santana says.  “Though, it’s been a couple weeks since I’ve checked the mail.  Who sends invitations through the mail these days?  Just start a text chain like a normal person.”

“Would you go?” He asks.  He’s been back and forth on the idea all day.  Does he really want or need to see anyone from high school again?  Possibly?  Would it be nice to get away for a weekend? Most definitely.  Can he really afford to skip town for a little while? That is the big unanswered question.  

Santana bites her lip, thinking it over.  “I mean it really depends on who else got these magical invitations.  Oh, god, will Rachel Berry be there? Please tell me Rachel Berry will be there.  Because I have got to see how little Miss TV-Princess does in a place that does not revolve around her ego.”

Blaine has never had the issues with Rachel that Santana had, but he does remember college.  He does remember Funny Girl.  “Sorry, Santana, I don’t actually have an answer for you on that one.”

Santana throws her hands in the air.  “You keep in touch with everyone, right?  Well, isn’t she part of everyone?”

“I think she’s become a little out of my status level,” Blaine replies, with a smirk.  “Besides, I don’t keep in touch with everyone .”  Truth be told, Santana might be the only person he talks to from high school.  At least on a regular basis.  For all the promises made during the time of staying BFFs forever, real life managed to get in the way of the magical thinking.  

“Alright, let’s work it out, right now, cause this will be the determining factor,” she says.  She pulls at a leaf from one of the trees above her, causing the branch to bounce.  It nearly whacks him in the head, which causes her to giggle a little and shake her head.  “Let’s see… Rachel Berry, possibly.  Said ego might drive her back to the place where it all began.”  

“Sam Evans will probably be there,” Blaine says.  “He does still live in the area.” He and Sam don’t have a lot of contact, but occasionally they’ll do a long distance Fantasy Football thing or chat about a new video game they both own.  He hopes Sam will go - he could use more of that laid back charm in his life.  

“Artie clearly won’t be,” Santana continues.  “I know, because I’m the one who put him on the European press tour for his new film.”

“I doubt Tina will be there either,” Blaine adds.  “She just had her third baby, and she and Ron probably don’t want to make the trip from Boston to Lima with three young children.”  

He thinks of Tina’s Instagram, the only way he really communicates with her, and the constant updates for her hectic life.  She’s happy and looking good, and way too busy to drop everything and run back to Ohio.  Blaine makes a note to give her a call at some point to congratulate her formally on the new baby, even if he had already left a cute note on the Instagram pictures.  

Santana is too caught up in her thought process to say more about Tina.  “Finn won’t be there for obvious reasons.  What the fuck happened to Puck? I doubt he has an address to even send anything to.  Quinn’s too prideful to drag her divorced ass out of Connecticut.  You know she’s already taken a new lover ?  She’s in her mid-thirties, and still hitting up the sugardaddies.  I mean, have some goddamn respect for yourself.”

“Well, Mike’s in Chicago,” Blaine offers.  Mike had been part of the Chicago Ballet for a long time, and had since become a dance instructor.  Blaine had been at Mike’s wedding to his wife, Marie, a couple of years ago, and he’s another one whom Blaine wouldn’t mind seeing again.  Maybe he, Mike, and Sam could have a nice guys’ night out that weekend.  He’ll have to get in touch.

Santana nods.  They walk by a woman sitting on a bench with two screaming children.  Blaine feels bad for the woman, but he and Santana share a look -- both of them glad that they don’t have to deal with that kind of hot mess at home.  

“Then there’s Mercedes,” Santana says, looking up and out into the world.  “Goddess among women.  We do not have the privilege to be in her presence.”  Santana laughs at her own comments.  “Seriously, though, I love my girl, but I don’t judge her for continuing to live her best life.”

“What about Brittany?” Blaine asks, tentatively.  He has no idea if this is a sore subject for her or not because he doesn’t think Santana has brought her up once over the course of their friendship.  

Santana becomes stoney-faced, as if not to give herself too much away.  “No,” she says simply.  “Brittany’s living in some commune in LA where she does Fondue for Two and runs a cat babysitting service.”  

“That’s a thing?”

“In LA it is.”  A fond smile climbs on her lips.  “In any case, as much as I am always up for seeing my girl again, I highly doubt she’ll be back.  I mean, we were still hooking up for a while the few times I made it out to LA, but recently she’s found someone a little more… permanent.  And before you go on pitying me, let me assure you, I am more than fine.”  She’s quiet for a moment as she reflects.  For a person who is almost always open about her thoughts, she’s decidedly reclusive when it comes to matters of her heart.  Blaine knows better than to try to pry it out of her. “Anyway, if we’re going to be upfront about exes, I believe there’s only one person left, if we’re not counting random chicks with mafia dads or weird Irish exchange students.  And I’m sure we both know that there’s no way in hell Lady Hummel is coming back to Lima, Ohio.”

“Oh!” Blaine says, as if it’s a complete revelation.  Kurt hadn’t even entered his mind, and it is surreal to think that his brain didn’t go there first.  

“Oh, please, don’t tell me you actually forgot about Lady Hummel and his heartbreaking ways,” Santana scoffs.  “Pretty sure years of therapy couldn’t undo all the trauma that did.”

She isn’t wrong, and she would know, because she helped pick him up a year after everything had happened.  But that’s the funny thing -- it’s not that he doesn’t remember Kurt.  (God, he remembers all of Kurt.)  He doesn’t remember the person he used to be when he had been with Kurt.  There had been a time when he would have shifted the Sun and the Moon and the entire Earth for Kurt Hummel.  A time when his heart had pointed in only one direction.  And a time so dark that when Kurt had ended it, Blaine didn’t know how he would ever move on.  

And yet he did.  

The person he had been is now such a faded memory he can barely remember what those feelings were like.  Kurt Hummel is just another name from his past, a person who, yes, helped shape him into the person he is now.  But long gone are the emotions once attached to that name.  Funny how things can change.  Someone could mean so much to you at one point in time, and yet after time…

“I didn’t forget about Kurt, clearly,” Blaine says. He grabs her arm, and loops his own through it.  The jog isn’t happening today, and he’s fine with that.  Some days, it’s best just to have the company rather than the exercise.  “I just think you’re right, unless Burt is dying or something.  But doubtful that he’ll return for a silly retirement party.”

“You almost sound disappointed.”

Blaine shrugs, and gives a smile.  He doesn’t know how he feels about whether or not Kurt will be there.  He hasn’t thought about him so long.  But he does know that after all this talk of the past, maybe he is ready to go back and see if anyone else is feeling the same way.  “I think we should do it.  Go back.  I mean, why not?”

Santana shakes her head.  “Oh, this whole idea sounds like the worst, but if there’s a chance I get to make-out with Quinn Fabray again, then I’m in.”

For the first time in a while, Blaine feels a little lighter on his feet.

***

Not a few weeks later, Blaine is on a plane back to Ohio.  

He and Sean talked it over and, while Sean had been technically free to go, they agreed that maybe it would be better if Blaine went himself; the unspoken dialogue being that space isn’t the worst thing they could give each other.  Blaine had not been able to help but be fidgety with his wedding ring during the flight but, intent on giving himself a weekend off from real life, he drowned himself in his favorite podcasts, and had tried not to think about his life in New York.  

The party is on a Saturday afternoon, but he’s there on Friday so to spend time with his mom.  They end up having a nice lunch together, and she takes him shopping.  She’s as feisty as ever, somehow managing to remind Blaine of Santana, and he wonders if she’s always been like that or if that’s a new trait of being in your sixties.  They end up FaceTiming with Cooper and the kids, and Blaine indulges his little nieces by singing them Disney Princess songs.  The whole day weirdly feels like the family they usually are only around Christmas time, but he’s in good enough spirits that he doesn’t question it.  

Later that night, his dad comes home, and they have pizza before his parents go off for one of their social benefit parties they often frequent, reminding Blaine of the old days when his parents were never home on a Friday night.  He doesn’t mind so much because McKinley’s Homecoming Football game is that night.  

His original plan had been to meet up with Sam since Santana’s plane isn’t coming in until tomorrow.  But Sam declined, stating that Mercedes Jones is coming late that night and she needs a ride from the airport.  Sam didn’t ask Blaine to come with him.  Blaine calls up Mike, who is happy to hear from him, and says that he will be at the party but is only going to make the trip to Lima once on Saturday.  He doesn’t bother trying to get a hold of anyone else, and ends up going to the game alone.  

Coming back to McKinley feels like going back in time, and yet the kids running around make him feel entirely too old to be there.  He half expects Sue Sylvester to pop out and start yelling at the cheerleaders, or Mr. Figgins to make some sort of half-time speech, but the world of McKinley has moved on, even if the campus has remained remarkably the same.  The game is fun, but kind of boring, and he’s not surprised when the team loses by seventeen points.  Still, seeing the array of alumni all cheering around him, he feels a strange sort of connection to the place in a way that he really didn’t when he actually went to the school.  It’s a bit surreal.  

Afterwards, not ready to go home to an empty house, he drives around for a bit, until by chance, he drives by Scandals, Lima’s decrepit excuse for a gay bar.  Feeling somewhat amused, a little nostalgic, and a lot in need of a drink, he decides to grab a beer for old times’ sake.  He decides, on a whim, to put his wedding ring in his pocket.  He’s not actually planning anything, but it’s also not like Sean wears his anymore, anyway.  

Scandals is even more in a sad state of affairs then he remembers, even if ‘Funk-It-Up-Friday’ is trying to give the place some of that Mid-Western Charm.  He orders a bottled beer, and sips as he thinks fondly about the time he watched Dave Karofsky try to line dance.  God, that had been so long ago…

“I’m guessing this place rarely sees a man as gorgeous as you.  Mind if I buy you a drink?”

It takes a moment for Blaine to realize the pick-up line is directed at him, but he does instantly recognize the voice.  Much to his shock, when he turns around, he’s face to face with a much older, and yet still dazzlingly magnificent, Kurt Hummel.

[teawaffles]

Louis and the Aquaria: Chapter 2

Two days after that. The normally-unused hall had undergone a complete transformation — and Fred was stunned.

“Wow……”

Sitting before him were three large water tanks, roughly five metres wide. Within each one were some aquatic plants, as well as 20 to 30 fish in a range of vibrant colours and distinctive appearances. They swam through the water, sometimes gracefully, sometimes powerfully — the beauty of the aquaria was simply overwhelming.

“What do you think, Fred?” asked Louis, as he walked up to him.

Without taking his gaze off the tanks, Fred shared his thoughts.

“I’ve never seen such beautiful fish. Are they all from other countries?”

“Indeed. Southeast Asia, Africa, and South America — I heard that they were collected from these three regions and brought here via special channels. There was a concern that the quality of our local water would not be suitable, hence even the water has been directly imported from their native rivers and lakes.”

“The scale here sure is different……”

Even the water that filled these tanks had been procured from the fishes’ native habitats: once again, the thoroughness of this endeavour left Fred in awe.

“I’m planning to bring in more of Herder’s equipment at a later date; but for now, all I can do is to watch over them like this…… Oh?”

Noticing something strange, Louis peered into one of the tanks.

Before his eyes, a small pufferfish was biting the fins of its tank mates. Looking at the other aquaria, it was clear that other tiny skirmishes had broken out.

Seeing the colourful fish engaged in unbecoming violence, Fred looked puzzled.

“It seems even fish need to be compatible with one another.”

“Indeed. It looks like it isn’t enough to simply divide them by their native regions.”

Hesitating a little, Louis slowly put his hand into the tank, and broke up the fishes’ fight as gently as possible. [1] Confirming that the conflict had been resolved for now, he breathed a sigh.

However, Fred spoke up in concern.

“If it’s already like this from the start, Mr Louis, then it looks like it’s going to be quite difficult for you.”

“Still, it must be done. ——For the sake of William’s plan.”

Hearing those words filled with conviction, once again, Fred could feel the strength of Louis’s emotions toward his brother.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Two days after the fish had moved into the mansion, the hall underwent another transformation.

The curtains had been drawn, and the entire room was dim. The large water tanks had been removed, and around twenty small aquaria were now lined up in their stead. Each tank was outfitted with the latest cutting-edge machinery to assist in the fishes’ upkeep.

In charge of their care, Louis quietly strolled among the tanks, scrutinising the fishes’ appearances one by one.

“Yo, Louis. How are they?”

Just as he’d completed his round of checks, Moran and Fred entered the hall.

Looking at his notes on the conditions of his charges, Louis answered in a businesslike manner.

“There are no problems at present. I’ve finally managed to understand their individual dispositions, hence their care should proceed more smoothly from here.”

“That’s great — though, it has gotten a little crowded in here.”

Moran looked around the room. Beside him, Fred was staring curiously at a device attached to the top of the tank.

“Is this machine necessary for taking care of them?”

“Yeah, it’s called a filter: it serves to improve the water quality,” Louis explained briefly.

In order to ensure he'd covered all bases, Louis spared no effort in his research, making detailed reports to Herder as he employed a variety of equipment in the fishes’ care.

Certainly, for the aquaria to be mechanised to such an extent, the level of technology required was several steps ahead of its time. To use such revolutionary technology for the sole purpose of rearing tropical fish: one could even call it extravagant.

As Moran watched the machines in operation, a dubious look crossed his face.

“These guys have been living in the wild up to this point, so it does feel a bit pitiful for them to be shut indoors all day. Why don’t you let them swim in the big pond outside once in a while?”

But Louis gently dismissed his proposal.

“I understand where you’re coming from; but we have to consider issues like how they would adapt to the water, and so I have refrained from doing that.”

“Then, at least bring the tanks outside so they can enjoy the sun.”


“That can’t be done either. If the aquaria were to be placed under direct sunlight, there would be other problems such as algal growth and spikes in water temperature. Hence, the day-night cycle has been replicated using artificial light.”

“An artificial sun, huh. All thanks to the development of industry,” Moran muttered.

Louis turned his gaze toward the lights installed above the tanks.

“These incandescent bulbs and other electrical technologies are still yet to be widespread — one can really feel the portent of Mr Herder’s work.” [2] [3]

As the two men made small talk, Fred watched the fish in the aquaria, his face aglow.

Then, the door to the hall opened.

Rhythmic footsteps echoed, and in came William.

“Nii-san.”

Louis broke off his conversation with Moran, and turned to face his brother.

“How has your work been?”

“It’s going well. Once we convey to Stapleton that we’re keeping tropical fish, I’m sure his interest will be piqued.”

“That’s good to hear. I hope your contact with him will be a success.”

“Thank you. And I’m glad to see that the fish are doing well. As I thought, it was the right decision to entrust their care to you, Louis.”

“I owe that to both your and Mr Herder’s help.”

Even as his reply was modest, Louis puffed out his chest.

Watching how close the two brothers were, the elder Moran smiled. But as he looked at the aquaria again, a tiny doubt suddenly struck him.

“By the way, we’re keeping these fish so we can meet with this Stapleton guy, right? Then when that’s done, what’ll happen to them?”

Louis tilted his head slightly as he pondered.

“Well…… As far as I understood his nature, in all likelihood, he’ll want to take the fish. In that case, we’ll probably hand them all over to him.”

He’d said that with a straight face, and Moran was stunned.

“Really? Don’t you think we should keep at least one of these tanks in the mansion?”

“No, not at all. These fish were collected for the sole purpose of my brother’s plan — they are simply a means to an end, and I hold no greater affection for them beyond that.”

“I-I see……”

For Moran and Louis, even as they shared William’s ambitions as his comrades, they knew full well they were but one of his chess pieces: if he were to order them to die, they were prepared to lay down their lives at any moment.

These fish were also no more than tools — everyone in the room understood that. But upon hearing how bluntly Louis put it, the older man could not hide his astonishment.

Next to them, William glanced over the fish.

“Still, they do look rather healthy, swimming around like that. For one, the colours of these Puntius rhomboocellatus are rather vibrant.”

“Ah, so that’s their name? It’s quite a mouthful.”

What William had just mentioned was the scientific name of the fish. In the event that Louis was unable to care for the fish, Moran and Fred had also familiarised themselves with their names just in case; but since they felt rather formal, Moran didn’t use them very much.

At his brother’s satisfied expression, Louis beamed with joy.

“You have a wonderful eye for aesthetics, nii-san. Besides those, I would also recommend the Mikrogeophagus ramirezi.”

“Hm, they’re a beautiful shade of blue. Though I personally like the Neolamprologus brichardi over here as well.”

“I see. Then what do you think about the Julidochromis transcriptus and Pelvicachromis taeniatus? Both are from Africa too.”

“……You know, it’s great that you guys get along so well — but can we leave it at that?”

Moran’s eye twitched. But they ignored his puzzlement, and continued their jargon-filled exchange.

“Still, taking the practical view, I quite like these Corydoras paleatus for cleaning up remnants of food from the tank. On the other hand, these Laubuka dadiburjori will jump out of the aquaria if they’re left uncovered, and I had a hard time finding tank mates for the Boraras urophthalmoides.”

“Speaking of utility, Louis: I suppose you would fancy the algae-eating Siamese flying fox as well?”

“Fufu, you see through everything, nii-san. Oh, please look over here: the Nannostomus beckfordi are spreading their fins.” [4]

“——Stop! Stop! No more of that talk!”

Reaching the limit of his patience, Moran stepped between the two brothers, yanking them out of their own world.

Their conversation interrupted, Louis looked puzzled. “What’s the matter, Mr Moran? I was just about to show him the Triple Red Apistogramma cacatuoides.”

“You guys are getting completely carried away, and leaving the rest of us behind! And what’s with those bloody names? This isn’t some university lecture!”

Beside him, Fred was pointing at the fish one by one, murmuring the names that had come up in the brothers’ exchange. Clearly, he was making sure he remembered their names properly.

Quizzical, Louis responded. “They might be troublesome for you…… But my brothers and I memorised them in one shot.”

“Y-You’re kidding, right?” Moran paled.

“They really are on another level……”

Astonished, Fred also stopped what he was doing.

Hailing from a noble family, Moran himself was an Oxford graduate; in addition, Fred also possessed an above-average intellect. But when confronted with the intellectual abilities of the three Moriarty brothers, who were able to memorise such complex names in just one go, the two men were unable to hide their amazement.

“I mean, wouldn’t it be easier to give them nicknames instead?”

At Moran’s suggestion, Louis put a hand under his chin.

“Nicknames, hmm…… I haven’t had any problems so far, but giving them simpler names might be a good idea.”

“Right? It’s insufferable to have to listen to those curse-like words every time I come here.”

“Let’s try it then. But I will be rejecting any distasteful ones,” Louis quipped.

Moran looked around the room, his gaze landing on a tank with a school of guppies swimming within.

“Alright….. Then how about we call these ‘Fred’?”

Behind his glasses, Louis’s eyes widened.

“We’re giving them our own names?”

“It’s fine, innit? It’s a lot better than calling them ‘Mr Guppies’ or something.”

“It’s certainly easy to say—— But even so, why call the guppies Fred?”

“Because they’re small and agile, aren’t they?” Moran grinned.

Fred shot him a dubious look. “Is your reasoning that simple……?”

That logic did seem a little problematic; William, who’d been watching from the side, made a troubled face.

“Since you’re adept at disguising yourself, Fred: if we were to name a fish after you, it should something like a leaffish that uses mimicry. Moreover, guppies already have a rather simple name, so I don’t think it’s necessary to give them another one.”

“It’ll be fine — it’s best to go with your gut for such things. Anyway, it’s decided then: the guppies will be called ‘Fred’.”

It seemed that for once, Moran was unwilling to listen to William’s words.

Then, another aquarium caught his eye. Fascinated, he gazed at the sole inhabitant within.

“Ooh, this guy has the tank all to himself, eh? I like that feeling of aloofness — this one’s gonna be called ‘Moran’.”

The fish Moran had just given his own name to, was in fact the tiny pufferfish that had to be isolated on the very first day, after attacking the other fish.

“Ah, about that one……”

Louis did want to explain why the pufferfish was all alone; but seeing how excited Moran was, he hesitated.

However, Moran seemed to have taken that pause in a different light.

“Oi oi, did you like this one too? Sorry, but it’s first come first served — so I get to name him.”

“R-Right. If you’re fine with that one, then……”

Moran looked like he was really enjoying himself, and so Louis decided to keep his silence on the truth about Moran’s new namesake.

Along with Louis, Fred had also witnessed what the pufferfish did on the day it arrived. It pained him a little to see Moran blissfully unaware of that, and he looked away.

Then, a certain tank caught his eye.

“These are quite like Mr William and his brothers.”

“Eh?”

Intrigued, William and Louis followed his gaze.

Dancing before their eyes was a group of beautiful fish with an almost divine air around them — ones that could even be called kings of the aquarium.

“——Angelfish?”

Within the tank, three angelfish were swimming in close formation. They had glittering silver scales, with black stripes running vertically down their sides. That closeness truly reminded one of the Moriarty brothers, bound to one another with firm ties.

Their name brought to mind angels, and William could not help but chuckle in self-mockery.

“I think that’s the last thing we should ever be called.”

“Not at all. In a way, you three are angels — but more of the ones who sound the trumpets in the Book of Revelation.” [5]

At that ironic turn of phrase, William let out another meaningful laugh.

Beside them, with a somewhat absent-minded look, Louis admired the fish he’d grown so familiar with.

“Though, just as Fred said, their elegant appearance certainly befits both William and Albert nii-sama.”

“No need to be modest, Louis: you are just as noble as they are.”

“T-Thank you very much, nii-san.”

Louis turned a little pink at that. Looking at the three fish swimming together, Moran nodded enthusiastically.

“Then starting from the front of the group, their names will be ‘William’, ‘Albert’ and ‘Louis’.”

“It’s a bit embarrassing……” William smiled bashfully.

Moran walked away from the tank. “Both Louis and Fred agree with it, so it’ll be fine. Anyway, I’ll be off.”

“Eh? What about the rest?”

Fred called out to him just as he was about to leave the room, and Moran ruffled his hair as he replied.

“Now that I think about it, there’re just way too many of them. We’ve already named five of them after ourselves — that should be fine for now.”

“I guess……”

Faced with Moran’s overly freewheeling attitude, Fred was lost for words.

“…………”

Under normal circumstances, Louis would saddle Moran with some chores at this point. But his attention was still drawn to the tank with the angelfish.

He had yet to notice it himself; but their three names, now conferred onto those fish, had set off tiny ripples in his heart.

Footnotes:

T/N: Yuumori is set in the early 1880s — you can read more about that here.

[1] Yes, Louis did just put his hand into a tank with a pufferfish 😥

[2] Edison’s first light bulb had been invented less than ten years prior, and this used a carbon filament — tungsten filaments would not be developed until the early 1900s. (Wikipedia)

[3] At this time in history, electricity really was the preserve of the rich and few — even in 1919, only 6% of UK households had electricity (Science Museum UK). Interestingly, AC (alternating current) power systems were starting to be adopted in the UK around this period. (Wikipedia)

Aside: The ‘artificial sun’ gave me flashbacks to the manga Letter Bee… (Wikipedia)

[4] This is a form of threatening behaviour between fish.

[5] Moran is referring to the seven angels that blow trumpets to bring about seven cataclysmic events, as described in the New Testament (Wikipedia). Seraph of the End fans would be familiar with this one :3

Translator’s notes

Louis’s honorifics

I know I used “Louis-san” in the manga scanlation, but I’m just going to go with my gut and use “Mr Louis” here :x

[laceymorganwrites]

One of us

Word count: 1,979

Pairing: none

Warnings: swearing, mentions of abuse

Summary: Illumi tries to rebel, leading right to you and the troupe. His shackles break, he tastes freedom for the first time.

It was the most dangerous point this time of the year, the time when the troupe had to change their hideout.

You didn´t really have to but there have been incidents in the past that made you extra careful now, incidents that started the whole Zoldyck hatred in your group.

Well hatred would mean fear as well which wasn´t the case, they were more of a nuisance, a wasp that always came back to eat the cake even though you flicked it away so many times already.

Though you had to give it to them, they tried, always came back even though they knew they´d lose. Just like all the other times.

It was like a game of cat and mouse, hide and seek.

It would´ve been fun if it wasn´t so annoying.

You had to admit that it was kind of funny to see those old guys chase after you, with such a laughable ambition in their eyes. What were they even trying to achieve? Honestly, you were just trying to live your life and have some fun. As far as you were concerned you never interfered with anyone of them or their acquaintances if they had any.

Well, maybe they were just trying to stay relevant in the underground and took every job they could get even though they could never even hope to finish it.

Quite a sad fate but that was what you got when you just wouldn´t learn your lesson.

Being stubborn wasn´t always the key to being successful.

“Where are we going this time, captain?” you asked, peaking out your head from behind the boxes you were carrying.

“Oh! How about somewhere near a beach? I haven´t been on vacation in so long” Machi chimed in, a dreamy expression in her eyes.

“Wait actually, how about a vacation? I mean we don´t really have any jobs right now, why not take a day or two off?” you supported her statement.

Everyone seemed to agree with the idea but Chrollo was reluctant. “We should move somewhere safe first and make sure the Zoldycks are busy with something else. I´ll think about it then” he let you know.

After they killed one of you he became paranoid, even more than he already was.

And you couldn´t blame him.

Chrollo didn´t have it easy in the first place managing the spider, being able to stay hidden and without anyone bothering you.

“Alright. I´ll check the route” you said, making yourself useful and making sure nobody would follow you.

As you stepped out of the hideout and looked around everything was in the clear, you nodded at Phinks and Uvogin who were responsible for driving the trucks with all your belongings.

The two men helped carry the last boxes inside the trunks and then you all joined them in the cars.

Chrollo was on edge, you could tell, the way he stared outside the window so paranoid as if you´d get attacked the next second.

“We´re almost there, captain. I can´t sense anyone but us, it´s gonna be over soon” you tried to calm him down, he appreciated it, just nodding.

His jaw was still clenched, but that was just how he was, always looking out for others and disregarding himself in the process.

When you arrived it was a bit too quiet for your liking, the others were careful too.

“I´m going to check it out, you guys can start unpacking already” you said and walked around the property. This time you chose an abandoned hotel, the furniture was still in tact and Shalnark could work very well in the security and control room.

You decided to work on the basement together, making a nice playroom for Feitan.

The building was big enough so that there was something for everyone, the location was very well hidden too, so maybe you could stay here longer this time. You´d like that.

Carefully and observant you looked around and walked everywhere around the property, nobody else was here besides you, but you could feel something. It made you uneasy. And yet it wasn´t a threatening aura.

That was it. An aura.

Anyone who´d come to attack you would conceal it, so why…. Why was this person here? And more importantly: where were they?

You frowned, being even more careful now and not making it as obvious that you were looking around. Hell, you even laid against a brick wall as to show how much you didn´t know what was going on. You let your guard down in hopes of them doing it too.

But Illumi was even more careful. This was the most important mission in his life, the mission to gain his parents´ approval and love, failure was not an option.

No matter what you do, don´t mess with the spiders. They´re not worth the effort and work. That´s what they always told him. And he had believed them his whole life, not even questioning it once.

But rather than doing exactly that and becoming aware of the fact that he was stronger than his parents thought he could ever be, in a way that wasn´t self destructive, in a way that wasn´t manipulative, he decided to make this rule something twisted.

Illumi knew what sort of punishment waited for him for breaking that rule, after all his family were the only ones who were still able to actually hurt him.

However he saw it as a chance, if he broke the rule and succeeded in killing them that would only show them what a great assassin they made of him, he wondered if his parents would finally be proud of him then.

“You don´t have any ill intent, how can I help you?” you faced him, still not seeing him but you could sense his nen well enough.

Illumi stayed hidden for a bit, how could you detect him? That messed up his plan quite the bit, but he didn´t have time to let it get to him.

He watched you from afar again, watching you just stand there unguarded. It was naive and stupid but so calculated, he rather felt like prey in a trap now, not the other way around. You made him uneasy and that excited him.

Maybe it wouldn´t hurt to play this game of catch with you, after all there was no hurt in having fun in his job, was there? Perhaps he was just playing with fire, you had challenged him for something he couldn´t calculate, for something he wasn´t ready for. It was exciting beyond belief.

“Ah, there you are~” you grinned when Illumi finally revealed himself.

“It´s not wise to be out here on your own, not calling anyone for help when you know someone´s here to harm you” he coldly stated, though it wasn´t really cold, it was just… distant, uncaring. There was no emotion behind it at all and yet all of them were. Maybe you were delusional but you could swear that you saw deep grief in his eyes, an even deeper hatred and regret.

Still, you didn´t know him, you doubted the others did as well.

“Yeah well it´s kind of obligatory to face danger in my work, so what brings you here? Something personal or just a job?” you couldn´t deny the fact that you were curious. After all it was pretty easy figuring out that he was an assassin as well. That only made things more interesting though.

“A bit of both” he answered truthfully. Again. No emotion in it at all. And somehow that just drew you in all the more.

“I see, well… hate to rain on your parade but we´re not really the types of people who get taken out easily. Or at all for that matter. But since you seem like a nice guy I´ll let you go before you make any stupid decisions” you offered him, Illumi was trained that nobody could ever trace his true intentions but all that training might as well be useless. Your intuition was better than that.

“I´m afraid I can´t do that. If I leave now everything will be over. I´ve come too far already to give up now” he let you know. Leaving for him would mean admitting to his parents that he broke their rule, he didn´t want to be punished like that ever again. He wanted to be free of them. Free for good this time.

But you were right, this was stupid to begin with. He knew how dangerous the spider was, he knew he wasn´t strong enough on his own. He sighed, the first sign of humanity he showed ever since he appeared. “I won´t kill you. But I can´t return either… this is inconvenient” he shook his head, thinking. Just what was he supposed to do now?

“Tell you what, why don´t you join us? You look like you have some tragic past, fits the job description” you grinned a bit.

Inviting him was a stupid idea, you knew that. But you felt sorry for him somehow. He clearly didn´t have a place where he belonged and to you that was just sad. Because you knew that everyone had a place to belong to, no matter how fucked up and broken they were.

“Pardon? I´m afraid that´s the worst idea I´ve ever heard” he said, appalled. Human emotion detected!

“Bad ideas make for good stories, what do you have to lose?” you grinned, curious about his answer.

Illumi had to chuckle at that. “Nothing anymore actually. I would´ve said my family but I never had one to begin with” his eyes were so empty when he said that, it made you sad.

Though they also held that sorrowful look in them, that realization that he could never have a normal family, that he could never be truly happy and he shouldn´t care, he knew he shouldn´t but … he couldn´t help it. It wasn´t his fault. It was engraved in him from childhood.

“Well now you do! Welcome to the spider” you smiled and practically dragged him along into the hideout with you.

To say the rest was shocked would be an understatement. Alarmed would be more fitting. After all you just brought their enemy into the hideout. However even they had to admit after a while that Illumi was anything but an enemy. Sure at first he was quite awkward and didn´t know how to act around everyone. But that was the thing, he didn´t have to act anymore.

For the first time in his life he could be himself, for the first time he had a chance to figure out who the hell that even was.

He fit right in into the troupe, they were all outcasts in their own way, each had their weird quirks about them and that was just what made them unique and special, that wasn´t a bad thing like he had been taught. After a while he even opened up enough to laugh and joke around with everyone. Though his way of laughing was just smiling ever so slightly that you wouldn´t even notice it if you didn´t look hard enough.

But you did. And the others did too. You cared about Illumi, he was one of you now, everyone would want to read him and they were patient enough to wait for him to open up, he was a great addition to your little makeshift family. And he was funny. Illumi had a dark humor but when you got it, it was the funniest thing you´ve ever heard. It even had Chrollo chuckling. And for him that was the highest of expressions and the biggest compliment.

And when Illumi´s former family attacked he fought on his real family´s side. He fought for himself, to keep this freedom, this inner peace, this adventure and excitement he´s never known before.

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: soon you’ll aim up at the sky and I’ll watch you float away Summary: Anakin was by no means falling in any of his classes. No, the issue was that Anakin wasn’t as good as he wanted to be and Obi-Wan did not have the time to read up on Check’chualik’s theory of ‘four-dimensional mathematics within a suspended room of an aircraft’. Or, Obi-Wan doesn't do space math but his Padawan does. AN: New part of my light fix-it AU! Written for @thenegoteator.

There were no words to describe how proud Obi-Wan was of Anakin. His apprentice was growing in leaps and bounds, going from being at the bottom of his classes to rising to the very top within just a few months. His determination and ambition were Anakin’s greatest assets. He trained harder than anyone else Obi-Wan knew – besides himself, maybe, but Obi-Wan was also still in the process of switching fighting styles, so he felt like he deserved to be pushing himself to the edge.

Obi-Wan just also, kind of, hated the fact that Anakin’s final exams aligned so well with his own.

He didn’t mind it too much concerning Anakin’s language classes. Those were easy enough to handle. Anakin resented the various High Standard dialects of any given language and had chosen to study the many trader languages spread across the galaxy. His Ryl was better than Obi-Wan’s own, but he took that good-naturedly and let Anakin run circles around him, reciting Ryl chants. It was Anakin’s third language or so – Obi-Wan didn’t know in what order Anakin had learned which language, but Anakin didn’t seem to be too sure about it either.

He had just said that he used to speak it nearly daily on Tatooine and that had settled it. If Anakin didn’t change his language track, he would probably not end up doing many of the diplomacy missions Obi-Wan usually elected to take, but he didn’t mind that either. Anakin was more well suited for the open skies than pompous dining halls.

Anakin’s literature classes were a bit more of a disaster. He was not particularly fond of interpreting texts. Obi-Wan always enjoyed those lessons most, thinking that engaging in such an exchange with authors of the past was the highest form of evaluating the thoughts of an inaccessible period. Anakin preferred biting conversations with his Master or his friends, the kind of quick wit needed for verbal sparring. While some of Anakin’s replies were not the smoothest yet, the words being more appropriate in Huttese as the boy claimed, he was doing well. He was on his way to becoming a suitable companion for tedious negotiations that made somebody to trade snarky comments in the privacy of their rooms with a necessity.

Galactic history was also about as alright as it could be. Anakin was more interested in the Order’s history than that of the Republic, but those usually went hand in hand, so Anakin could get invested enough in a given topic.

Anakin was by no means falling in any of his classes.

No, the issue was that Anakin wasn’t as good as he wanted to be and Obi-Wan did not have the time to read up on Check’chualik’s theory of ‘four-dimensional mathematics within a suspended room of an aircraft’.

Anakin had said that sentence and a bunch of other very important sounding words while biting his lips in frustration, looking like he was going to start crying in anger any second. Anakin hardly cried, his eyes not even hazing over. Obi-Wan had seen him shed tears maybe once or twice since Anakin had become his apprentice. Anakin called tears a waste and while that was certainly not a mentality Obi-Wan wanted Anakin to keep, he hadn’t quite had the chance yet to address that topic in a meaningful way.

So, instead, he was looking at Anakin’s math paper, sighing.

It really wasn’t like Obi-Wan was going to get any of this. He knew he wouldn’t because he had never taken the elective Theoretical Mathematics of Hyperspace Travel. Obi-Wan took all the courses necessary to get his piloting license and not invested any extra hours into it, especially not within his mathematics track.

Obi-Wan also knew that these kinds of electives were more for senior Padawans and not a pre-teen, but Anakin was also intensely more familiar with ships and droids than most Padawans. Obi-Wan had already given up on attempting to make any sense of Anakin’s level of knowledge when it was all over the place.

Rubbing his eyes, Obi-Wan reached for his tea, enjoying the sweet taste of it. One glance at the chrono told him that Anakin would be back from classes soon. Obi-Wan had meant to read over his paper as a distraction from his own, but, evidently, that hadn’t turned out.

Neither Anakin’s theoretical maths paper nor Obi-Wan’s thesis on the inhumane implications of the Yavin code in light of the end of the New Sith Wars was going to get written or corrected this afternoon.

Obi-Wan felt just a little like dropping his head on the table and taking the day off. Though, perhaps, that really wasn’t such a bad idea. A break from this would maybe clear his head and Anakin…

Anakin would not be happy. He would work himself up because of his frustrations and then Obi-Wan would have to deal with a Padawan too stressed to calm down, which, depending on how his day had gone, would not end so well.

Obi-Wan deliberated whether he should just decide for the both of them that they’d take the day off, but eventually decided against it. Anakin reacted better to all situations if he was given a choice. Knowing that Anakin would be home in ten minutes, Obi-Wan cleared up their living room table and got lunch out of the oven. He had felt like baking today – okay, no, that was a bold-faced lie. He just needed another distraction from his paper and cooking had seemed like a good enough choice – and not like eating in the mess hall.

By the time he had laid the table, the door to their rooms opened and Anakin rushed inside, still full of energy after a morning filled with lessons.

“Obi-Waaaaan, I’m hungry. This smells nice, what’s for lunch?”

Anakin threw his arms around Obi-Wan’s middle, becoming liquid and relying on Obi-Wan to hold him up from beneath his arms.

“I made lasagna,” Obi-Wan said and carried Anakin over to his chair. “Yes, with that cheese you like.”

Anakin’s face lit up and he fist-bumped the air. “Yes!”

Dinner was a loud affair, something Obi-Wan had yet to get used to. Eating with Qui-Gon was always silent while the snack pauses were used for heated debates. Anakin worked exactly the other way round. He wasn’t one for eating quietly or slowly. He told Obi-Wan about his classes, what they had gotten up to, and, of course, the topic of his paper came up.

“Have you finished looking through it?” Anakin asked with big eyes.

Here it was, the moment of truth.

“No,” Obi-Wan replied honestly. “I tried to, but the topic of your paper is nothing I’m really informed on. I checked your grammar but not your calculations.”

“Oh.” Anakin’s face immediately fell. “But I need this paper to be right and I can’t quite figure it out and I don’t want to fail!”

Anakin’s outbursts, when expected, were a lot easier to handle.

“I know,” Obi-Wan said, “which is why I thought of two things. One.” He held up his index finger. “The two of us need a break from these papers. I know yours is due soon, but you are smart and one day of not working on it will do you good, so I’d suggest taking the day off. Two, I’m pretty sure there’s a Jedi Master, who can look over this and help you out, coming home tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Anakin blinked. “Who?”

“Master Plo Koon. He’s an excellent pilot and I think you would have a lot of fun talking to him. He’s a Kel Dor.”

“Oh, I know him!” Anakin interrupted, looking a little star-struck.

Obi-Wan hadn’t expected that reaction. “You do?”

“Yeah! He’s in the crèche lots because he brought a Youngling there around the same time I arrived at the temple. Her name’s Ahsoka. She’s gonna be badass someday.”

Anakin enjoyed spending time in the crèche and going by the way he talked, Obi-Wan assumed that little Ahsoka was one of the more talkative kids there with no hesitation about challenging Anakin to a fight. Obi-Wan smiled. “And you know that how?”

“She bit me once,” Anakin replied and nodded as if that explained everything.

He then swallowed the last piece of his meal, not elaborating any further.

This was… nice. Obi-wan had honestly expected this conversation to be more chaotic. Perhaps that said more about his own mental state than it said anything about Anakin’s.

“And what are we gonna do today then?” Anakin asked. “If we’re not working on papers.”

“Hmm.” Obi-Wan made a show out of pondering when he had already decided to let Anakin pick a while ago. “Well, where do you want to go?”

There was only one possible reply to that answer.

“Can we go to the markets again?” Anakin said immediately. “We’re running out of sunbeetles and we can visit Dak’lana and maybe get you a new hairpin too?”

Obi-Wan had to smile at Anakin’s genuine excitement. Few things were as comforting as seeing your Padawan happy.

Except, maybe, finishing your thesis.

“That is a wonderful idea,” Obi-Wan told him and watched happily as Anakin ran off to get everything ready for their trip.

Time to wash up and spend money on food and jewelry.

[mrsgreenworld]

Son Yaz Episode 23

"İmkansız" ("The Impossible") aka It's Worth It

It's strange but after the last episode I've been thinking a lot about Arrow. Sure I'm a big Arrow and Olicity fan. Hell, they're the reason I got a Tumblr account. When the show ended, it was tough. Because it had been a part of my life for several years and it resonated with me deeply and it had given me a sense of community and belonging. So I feared I would never feel it again. But then Sen Çal Kapımı kinda attacked me, pulled me in and it was so great - feeling this passionate about something again. And despite SCK having turned into a mess and huge disappointment, I'll always appreciate those early days and keep them in my heart. After all, it brought me to you @lolo-deli and @djemsostylist. This alone is something I'm very grateful for. But my disappointment with SCK left me wondering yet again: would I ever find something worth watching and shipping and obsessing over? I got my answer when, after having seen all the amazing gifs by @aslibekroglu, I finally gave in and started watching Son Yaz. And it's completely taken over my life ever since. Not in a way SCK had back in the day. By similar to the way I felt when I was watching Arrow. I know it may seem kinda crazy because Son Yaz and Arrow are two completely different shows. Like, two shows cannot be any further apart, almost to the point of polar opposites. But I've realized that, if we look past the genre, language, the storytelling and all other differences, there's something very similar in the heart and core of both these shows. I looked at Akgün in the last episode and holy shit how much he reminded me of Oliver Queen. And I'll gladly explain why. Let's get down to it.

Akgün

So how the hell did I end up comparing Akgün Gökalp Taşkın and Oliver Queen? It's very simple really (at least it is in my mind 🙈😆) and I'm surprised I haven't made this connection before. Because both Akgün and Oliver are essentially the same type of character - a tortured hero, tainted by darkness and burdened with past sins but ultimately a very good person with a pure heart, bright light inside and infinite capacity to love. Both of them don't hesitate to make sacrifices for those they love, they can be borderline suicidal when it comes to protecting their loved ones. Sure Oliver had a mission and wanted to make a difference by helping people and protecting the whole city. Akgün doesn't have these ambitions. But then again Son Yaz isn't a superhero type of show. But if we remove the "super" part and focus on just the men, we'll see that what they both crave is actually very simple - love and family. I also think that Akgün reminds me of Oliver more now because in season 1, despite his difficult childhood and the loss of his mother, there still was some innocence left in him, he wasn't truly touched by the darkness. It changed when he shot his brother and helped Selim beat up to death and then buried a man, possibly still alive. Taking someone's life robs a person of innocence. Same thing happened to Oliver. However, he's way more acquainted with darkness, given how he dropped bodies left and right at the beginning of his vigilante career. It's clear that Akgün and Oliver had very different journeys but it's impossible for me to ignore the core similarities.

Another thing Akgün and Oliver have in common is their desire to not just protect their loved ones from the dangers and evil of this world, but also from themselves, their own darkness. They deem themselves unworthy of the women they love. Akgün even straight out confessed it to Yağmur in the moment of panic. That's the reason he left - he didn't want to taint her with his darkness. But then again, he's never truly left her or given up on her. He's given up on himself. He's doomed himself to loneliness.

I must say that episode 23 in general made me love Akgün even more. We saw not only his devotion and fierce love for Yağmur but his love and loyalty to Soner. Their brotp is one of the best things on this show and I sure hope they won't destroy it.

The Rocket Team (yes, the name is now canon!!!!) reunion gave me all the feels. Seeing these three grown men turn into teary eyed mess just melted my heart.

Throughout the whole episode we saw Akgün trying to be there for everyone. He didn't want to argue with and go against Selim but he also didn't want to betray Soner. The scene where Akgün met with Selim and told him that Soner and Naz had gotten married, made me so proud of him. He was the reasonable one in that moment. That's a first 🙈😆 At the end of the scene Akgün also managed to make me laugh. Really laugh. I didn't think I would be laughing any time soon this season but his wild gestures, his frustration with Selim and his "just listen to me for once" - all of that was funny to watch.

Just like I said, Akgün was supportive and tried being there for everyone, that's why he was immediately on board with the wedding. Soner had to only ask and it's like the three years of not having seen each other were erased in that moment. Akgün didn't try to talk Soner out of it, didn't ask any questions. He did remind Soner of the consequences but it was very cautious, filled with love and concern, without overstepping and disrespecting Soner's choice.

Then there was Yağmur... Akgün and Soner going to search for her and then the moment when Akgün found Yağmur in that storage room - that was for sure the highlight of the episode for me. First we saw Akgün and Soner working together as a well-oiled machine. Perfect partners in crime 😎 And after they split, the moment when Akgün stopped for a second and just smelled Yağmur... Damn. Such a parallel to Yağmur smelling him in episode 22. It doesn't matter how many years have passed, what they've been through, how much they've changed, doesn't matter if there's anger and pain and so much unsaid between them - they still just feel each other. Their connection is there, strong as ever. And Alperen totally knocked it out of the park, showing Akgün's panic and raw fear the moment he found Yağmur. He'd never seen her like that and it shook him to the core. I swear he looked ready to cut his chest open, take out his heart or, I don't know, lungs and give to Yağmur, just to make it stop, just to make her okay again 😭😭😭

When Naz tried to tell Akgün about Yağmur and what she had been through, Akgün didn't want to hear it. Because he couldn't bear it. But in the end he was forced to witness Yağmur's breakdown. The first one of many others to come. And when they come, he won't be able to stay away any longer.

Yağmur

Yağmur's journey this season is all about healing and acceptance. She has to live through those 5 stages of grief. Just like Meredith Grey once said: "There are five stages of grief. They look different on all of us. But there are always five". And I already said in my episode 22 review that Yağmur locked herself in denial. Naz in her conversation with Akgün confirmed it. But ever since Akgün showed up in the restaurant, it's like the floodgates of Yağmur's grief have been open. She started spiralling, diving head first into anger. All her anger was directed at Akgün. And even though Yağmur came to visit Akgün in prison to say that she was no longer angry with him, her biting words, the "I don't love you anymore" and the following panick attack - all of that only proves that she's still just as angry with him as she was, simply because she's still very much in love with him.

I think Yağmur's bargaining stage of grief revealed itself with Naz, when Yağmur went to the hotel to bring Naz home. In Yağmur's head there is this idea that she has to protect Naz, she's convinced that she can save her cousin from suffering Canan's fate. But Naz refused to go with Yağmur, therefore making Yağmur feel helpless and maybe even abandoned. Already in this fragile and vulnerable state, Yağmur completely lost it after having heard gunshots. She finally started accepting that something's wrong. And it's so important that, when she finally said the words "I don't recognize myself anymore", Akgün was the one she said those words to. It's like she had been waiting for him all this time. Naz told Akgün that Yağmur needed someone to tell her what had happened to her. Akgün's that someone. Only with Akgün back in her life, Yağmur will finally accept her mother's death and then start moving on.

Selim

I don't have much to say about Selim in episode 23 other than a string of curses 🤬🤬🤬.

I've never loved this character and barely even liked him. Canan made him bearable and with her gone... Well, we've got what we saw in the last episode. I wonder how he was never kicked out of his job. Not only was he completely unhinged but also absolutely stupid and unprofessional during that mission with Sare. Then him forcing Akgün to choose between himself and Soner. And of course him storming into Yağmur and Emel's house, yelling and demanding to see Naz. Mister, it's not your place to demand anything, let alone act all righteous and question Emel as a mother. I swear, I wanted to rip his tongue out 😠😡😤

That's pretty much all I have to say about Selim in the last episode. Well, I've got more to say but I don't see it moving forward without me spitting profanities and turning violent.

A few honourable mentions:

🖤 Naz and her attempt to talk to Akgün about Yağmur.

🖤 Sare was kinda funny and she deserved a cookie for putting up with Selim. Glad they didn't make her stupid and she figured out that she was being followed.

🖤 Cihan trying to help Yağmur with her panick attack was very sweet. It was a nice first meeting. Although him being her secret admirer is kinda creepy and makes zero sense for now. I really hope they're going to show how it all started. Speaking of Cihan. I'm kinda conflicted about him. On the one hand, he's sweet and gentle with Yağmur, pretty hot when he was speaking German but also cunning and cold-blooded when he tipped off the Mertoğlu about Soner's whereabouts. And in episode 24 he's going to team up with Akgün to avenge Soner?🤔 Damn, the guy's making my head spin.

And that's pretty much it. Görüşürüz!

[silvanable]

UwU hello~ I hope I'm following your rules, kinda read them several times :")) ehem– may I request for an ikevamp hc of Harry potter au, with an fem MC/reader who's a mud blood(? I think) and joins Hogwarts (with your choice of suitors). How she meets with the vamps and their reactions~ somewhat like that! Wishing you a lovely day~❤️

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this is such a cool idea. i really enjoyed it and i have to say i now have a list of possible house alignments and blood statuses for all of our ikevamp boys!

i only went with 4 here though and i hope that’s okay!

feel free to wiggle with the assumption of the age brackets here because HP students are young but also i can just casually slide canon under the rug for a hot minute.

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↪  GUIDELINES

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ー ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE

it’s very likely she run into him in the library.

and i mean she runs into him.

he’s was just picking out a few more books for referencing material when it happened.

not to be dramatic but books in her arms and his ended up everywhere, pages flying, somehow a quill is stuck in her hair.

after the initial shock she’s apologizing, a quick string of “i’m so sorry” follow.

arthur is a man with very specific tastes pretty much anything that moves and seeing such a flustered little dame kicks his flirt into overdrive.

“no, no, i’m just glad i could catch such a beautiful woman”

there is an endless amount of flirting from him and she denies his pretty words do anything for her.

but we all know she’s lying it absolutely works and she just can’t admit she likes the attention.

though it’s not all about that, i see her and arthur finding common ground either in sharing a house, similar hobbies, or common likenesses in things.

she would absolutely make a muggle culture reference, absolutely expecting it to fly over his head like is does with almost all the students.

“this search would go so much faster if we just had wifi to look it up” let me have this okay i didn’t know what else to say

instead she finds him staring up at her from his parchment, eyes focused on her from behind his glasses.

“you miss wifi too?”

and in the next moment they’re both laughing and complaining about how with all this magic...

it’s revealed then that not only is she a muggleborn, but so is arthur.

his reaction would range from excitement to relief to joy because finally someone else is like him, who gets this wifi-less struggle.

BONUS:

he is a slytherin, a very subtle one, and it’s not uncommon for him to be mistaken for a ravenclaw sometimes because he bears a very creative, witty, and observant streak. not to mention he’s extremely intelligent and practically the castle’s personal mystery solver.

ー COMTE DE SAINT-GERMAIN

pureblood, no question. comes from a serious well known and powerful family but not a pureblood supremacy family.

he’s the ancient studies professor fight me.

ends up meeting her on her first day of the job as a professor of muggle studies, arts, musics? probably.

it’s customary for the staff to meet and greet new members, get them familiar with the castle, offer them introductions, etc.

comte naturally volunteers for the job.

so there is the new professor, shining with absolutely determination and excitement and maybe a little bit of nervousness.

the tour is light, she is in awe ( who wouldn’t be it’s hogwarts ) and conversation mostly consists of the school and its students.

then she asks a question of what is expected of her, as she quietly adds “i’m not exactly sure how muggles and wizards differ in etiquette and behavior”

comte already knew her her field of study and what she would be teaching, but her muttered statement fits the last of the pieces together.

comte lets out a short laugh, “i can teach you if you would like to know?”

expect this man would definitely want to learn the differences as well, so really it would be a win-win.

her blood status would probably never be brought up directly and if she does bring it up, comte would likely just smile and say he knows.

BONUS: 

comte is a ravenclaw in my book. i find his personality and the infinity corridor magic door, as well as his enjoyment of the other cultures and travels make him a very curious and studious ( or willing and eager to know about ) of other cultures.

ー LEONARDO DA VINCI

like comte, leonardo comes from a well known pureblood family.

the first meeting is because leonardo fell asleep outside on the steps. she didn’t notice him until it was too late.

she trips over him a very graceful entrance.

he’s fine though, she however is not only dazed, might have bumped her head, and now is in a panic over whoever she landed on.

i entirely believe he would hardly be phased by being stepped on, so he hardly moves.

that scares her a little more because her concern goes from hurting someone to she might have found a dead guy.

her panicking led her to do the first thing that came to mind: VIOLENTLY gently shake him awake and ask, “are you alright, are you hurt?”

it was the consistent disturbance that woke him up.

can’t a man nap in random places without someone wondering if he died, like please.

it becomes a consistent thing for them to encounter one another exactly like that, except the worries of her hurting him become more of a “you need to stop falling asleep in weird places to get stepped on!”

it’s honestly very endearing.

finding out she’s muggleborn does come up in a later conversation, rather nonchalantly in regards to his sleeping habits and how her parents were doctors who could help figure out why he’s always so tired.

nothing is wrong with him he’s just the humanoid persona of a cat it’s fine.

that piques his interest enough to ask her about what they do as doctors. that’s when it comes up that both of her parents are muggle doctors.

her blood purity would never really come to mind with leonardo, as he does not believe in purebloods having supremacy.

BONUS: 

despite seemingly nonchalant and aloof, leonardo is a gryffindor. he shares a lot of their other traits besides the generally tag of “loud and prone to danger”. he is a very practical and playful person, but also he has a firm belief of right and wrong for himself and that’s not something he’s willing to back down from.

ー THEODORUS VAN GOGH

probably met her on the first day because of vincent yes blame the brother.

the train ride has a bunch of new students, all excited and nervous at the same time.

theodorus and her ended up in the same train car during the ride.

he strikes me as the person not into conversation while she needed the conversation to ease her own nerves.

even if he did not respond or called her an idiot in his own way, she found over time that she was not as nervous.

she might have spilled her life story to theo though and that’s how he figured out she was a muggleborn before even she had a clue what it meant.

i see taking some time for her and theo to actually become closer because he’s a lowkey grump who needs to be bribed with pancakes but he most certainly would enjoy having her around.

it would first strike her what a mudblood was when pureblood losers harassed her about her background.

theo would intervene to protect her.

it most certainly would linger with that hurt in her and she would probably bring it up to theo, “why are you okay with being around me if i’m not a pureblood?”

“that doesn’t matter, hondje”

and if that isn’t enough to settle her mind he’ll tell her that both he and vincent are halfbloods.

coming from both a muggle and wizarding family he doesn’t care that she’s a muggleborn.

BONUS: 

theo is definitely a gryffindor in my book but he has slytherin undertones that show in his ambition, focus, and sheer determination in his goals. but he has a very brave and compassionate personality under all the sharp remarks.

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ 

[faerytale-au]

A Darkness Lingers Pt.1

Word Count: 8,805 Fourth Prompt Place: During and After “Promises and Tokens” Rating: M TW: Mentions of Past Abuse Part 1 - Part 2 Cross posted to Ao3 here!

(During Prom&Tok)     

“So your brother’s getting hitched, talk about a shocker.” Papyrus casually gave Undyne the side eye as they walked. Why everyone kept repeating that he didn’t fully understand. Sans could be devoted if he wanted to be, after all he had helped raise him since he was young, even back when their father was still around.

“I SUPPOSE TO THE UNOBSERVANT EYE IT WOULD BE QUITE THE SHOCK YES.” Undyne could always tell when Papyrus was being sarcastic.

“Hey, I’m not the only one who thinks that, you have to admit Sans doesn’t really do much unless he absolutely has to. I wouldn’t call this a necessity either.” Papyrus stopped in place to stare at her.

“IS THERE A REASON YOU’RE BRINGING THIS UP RIGHT NOW?” When she’d all but demanded him to walk with her to work with the excuse that they were heading the same direction he’d been expecting some friendly chatter. 

Not a cross examination.

Undyne stopped beside him and folded her arms, her expression turning serious as she seemed to contemplate something. “Is the wedding even going to be legal?”

Papyrus was offended. “WHY OF COURSE IT WILL BE! WHY ARE YOU EVEN ASKING THAT?”

“It’s just well...Frisk is a mage.” Undyne stated plainly as she placed both her hands on her hips. Papyrus didn’t see what her point was, and so narrowed his sockets at her suspiciously. He knew she was uneasy with the thought of mages walking around, but last he was aware Undyne liked Frisk.

“THE ROYAL FAMILY AS I RECALL HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH MARRIAGES BETWEEN CLANS. THOSE ARE VERY MUCH STILL PERSONAL MATTERS AND DECISIONS LEFT TO THOSE ENGAGING IN THE BINDING CEREMONY.” Papyrus casually dismissed. But Undyne only seemed more reluctant about dropping the conversation as she frowned.

“That’s another thing, does she know what a binding ceremony even means Paps?” Ah, there was the crux of the matter, he could tell by the way her gaze skirted around him, but he was confused.

“I’D ASSUME SHE DOES, THE HUMANS MIMIC THE WHOLE PROCESS RATHER EFFICIENTLY IN THEIR OWN CEREMONIES.”

What was there to even know he wondered? 

A binding ceremony meant exactly what it was called, the two participating became tied to each other usually until one or both parties fell down shortly before dusting. In the meantime their tokens they exchanged, powered through the upholding of their promises, would act like soft mood detectors and tracking beacons. They would be able to tell when one was in danger or had gone somewhere far away from the other.

But then again that was for Seelie.

Papyrus had no clue what rules would apply to his brother and Frisk, he didn’t even know if it would work the same for them.

He did know however so long as she stayed in the realm and remained a mage her lifespan was sure to endure as long as any other Seelie. However Mages and regular humans didn’t go through the falling down process when reaching the end.

For the briefest moment Papyrus felt a flicker of doubt and worry for his sibling.

What would it mean if Frisk was somehow killed or died before him? Most Seelie didn’t survive when their partner passed away, and there had been stories of the effects tokens could have on those that still lived.

He didn’t want to think about the implications a token from a powerful human soul could have.

So he didn’t.

But Undyne did have very good reasons to worry.

“AND IF SHE DOESN’T I’M SURE IT WILL BE EXPLAINED TO HER. ARE THERE ANY OTHER CONCERNS THAT ONLY INCREASE THE JOVIAL MOOD I AM IN?” Undyne didn’t want to voice it seeing how his expression went neutral, his sockets habitually going wide with an empty grin to match, just as Sans’s so often did when he was talking about a subject he was uncomfortable with. 

Still it was a legitimate question that needed asking. “Yeah, last one Paps. Who’s going to bind them? Last I checked the job belonged to the clan elder, or to the oldest member and your dad is…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish.

Papyrus’s smile finally dropped completely. “AH, I WAS THINKING ABOUT THAT MYSELF. I AM AWARE I AM TECHNICALLY BY TRADITION TOO YOUNG TO KNOW ABOUT THE CLAN RITES, AND THAT SANS IS THE ELDEST BUT GIVEN THE CIRCUMSTANCES I AM HOPING HER MAJESTY AND GERSON WILL BE KIND ENOUGH TO LET ME LEARN AT LEAST THIS ONE.” 

“Is that why you’re heading to the castle with me?” 

Papyrus forced his smile back on but it was so easy to tell for the other Seelie how fake it was. “ONE REASON YES.” 

Undyne shifted in place awkwardly. She was never good with emotions when it came to someone other than Alphys but she was insightful enough to know when an invisible line had been crossed.

“Look, I’m sorry I brought up Ga--”

“IT’S FINE!”  She jolted at how quickly he cut her off and Papyrus was quick to rub the back of his vertebra as he offered an apologetic smile. “IT’S NOT EXACTLY A GOOD THING TO MENTION HIS NAME, YOU KNOW THE POWER BEHIND SUCH THINGS.” 

“...You mean the power for him behind such things.” She glowered. 

Papyrus didn’t respond, simply stared at her, with all the patience many would have thought him incapable of. It was clear he wasn’t willing to continue the conversation. Her sigh of defeat was enough to make him silently grateful even as it irritated her.

“Sorry for the questioning. C’mon we’re going to be late.” 

He smiled and went to follow, only to pause as a thick foreboding chill ran the length of his spine. Papyrus peered over his shoulder as the air around him became saturated with malevolent energy and the taste of sulfur.

If he focused long enough he swore he could see the minimalist movement out of his peripheral, the area usually reserved for wisps or other mischievous Fae that sought to cause havoc. 

He was usually never bothered by such things.

But a clan member could always tell when their eldest was nearby, Seelie or Unseelie alike.

“PAPYRUS! ARE YOU COMING!?”

Gaster watched from behind the veil as Papyrus turned back around and sauntered off after Undyne. He could tell his magic was riled but the lanky skeleton kept it cleverly concealed as he chased after the blue fish Seelie. 

It was almost impressive how his youngest’s magic control had developed he thought absently.

But then he lingered on what he’d heard. 

So his oldest son was getting married? The possibility of such a thing never once crossed his mind, seeing how cold and distant Sans had become in the years following his departure, it was quite the surprise.

Someone made Sans happy, enough to break through his guarded detachment and a human no less. Oh what irony that was. 

Gaster’s corrupted soul gave a sickening twist as a foul wave of contempt overcame him.

He supposed he wasn’t due an invite.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t by all rights allowed to meet the bride. He always knew his eldest had a soft spot for the other race that was simply his nature as it was all Seelie’s, but to go so far as to bind them to their family name?

What made this one so special?

~~

Frisk wasn’t experienced when it came to cooking. 

In her youth when she had to fend for herself she usually had a kind neighbor to help her, or if she was really lucky the town’s crops would already be just beginning to ripen and she’d pluck one or two fruits for a meal when she was hungry. 

None of that required fire or pots.

So why it had been a good idea to Papyrus and her...fiancé...to let her make dinner she had no idea. She was even a bit worried she’d potentially end up burning the house down; how was she supposed to know when the meat was fully cooked, let alone magic meat too.

Her narrowed eyes flickered over to the cookbook Papyrus had set up for her. 

It said to simmer the meat until browned...how did one simmer meat? 

Magic maybe? Wasn’t that always the answer?

Frisk was so busy worrying and glaring at the food to notice as a thin shadow slipped from the kitchen doorway behind her, it’s shapeless form gliding across the floor to rest just behind her own feet. 

It lingered still as could be while Frisk hummed and begun to look over seasonings.

Slowly the shadow darkened and grew upwards like a pillar of smoke, it’s ascent silent as the grave as it twisted and enlonged. It continued to grow until it was just tall enough it threatened to touch the ceiling and all the while Frisk was ignorant to its presence..

The sharp popping of the meat and a loud gasp from her was enough to cover a nauseous sound of rolling curd and dolloping phlegm, the crackle of raw magic, and the food’s smell of char as it burned was enough to mask a scent of coal and wood.

A face, white and round, cracked from the left corner of its mouth with a matching lightning bolt jagged like cut curving up from it’s right eye rolled out from the churning darkness to grin wide and maliciously at the human woman’s back. 

So this was her? 

Gaster tilted his head as he took in her appearance with an apathetic look. About average height, dressed simply in Seelie garb, but to his keen eye all together plain looking. He couldn’t see anything that would have coaxed his son’s attentions.

Nothing truly remarkable stood out about her that he could see. There were even faint scars dotting her arms if he looked close enough, a feature that normally would’ve been off putting among her kind he was sure, he could even see one or two trying to show from under the collar of her shirt.

Yet.

There had to be something he was missing.

A flare of brilliant magic circled his right socket as a monocle formed and his frown curved up into a smile both fascinated and intrigued. Right in the center of her being he could see a heart floating and radiating the aura of magic around her. 

Her soul was the most vivid and bewitching shade of Red he’d ever seen, determination practically poured from her being in rivets. It made his hands spawn and itch. Even enclosed within her body as it was it gave off a sense of bewitching ambition and drive.

Was it truly a wonder his eldest had fallen for her then?

All Gaster could see...was fathomless potential.

Frisk mumbled to herself as she rushed over to the sink, her hands fumbling as she filled a cup and rushed back over before stilling as an icy shiver raced up her spine. She frowned. It felt as if she had eyes on her, someone watching her as she attempted to pour water over the smoking remains of her ruined dinner. 

Gaster smirked.

Trying to keep calm she drew a shaky breath and tensed. Swallowing down her nerves she turned and froze, her body preparing for a sudden assault or unexpected visitor.

She blinked at the empty kitchen. 

Frisk had been living in the Seelie realm for a while now, unexplained sensations or fluctuations of magic weren’t unusual or uncommon. But this felt off...as if whatever that was she had felt didn’t belong to the rest of reality around her.

Furrowing her brows one of her hands came up slowly to brush the air in front of her as if to feel something she couldn’t see before snapping it away to her chest. She started to breath heavy and glanced down at her palm.

A feeling, something magnetic had rebuffed her.

“Paps? Sans?” She waited, a clamminess overcoming her skin, but no one answered her. Mentally she started to count backwards from ten as she cast a wary glance around her, her eyes lingering in corners and doorways before finally she started to calm down.

Feeling reassured there wasn’t really anyone around she let out a sigh and nearly whimpered as she reluctantly turned back to the stove and saw the meat had turned solid as a brick and black. 

She couldn’t even tell it had been meat anymore. 

Looked like it was going to be takeout for dinner again, Papyrus wasn’t going to be too thrilled.

“WE’RE BACK!” Frisk flinched, talk about convenient timing. 

Frisk smiled in relief as she called back, her eyes locked on the smoldering pan, and shivered as she swore silently to herself that she felt eyes on her again. Her hand clenched the cup she still held nervously as her heart verged on picking back up. 

The feeling of familiar and warm arms encircling her waist relaxed her.

“wow, my favorite, charcoal.” 

Her cheeks stung and the stiffness in her shoulders changed meaning at Sans’s teasing and the chaste kiss he pressed to her cheek. Her worry was instantly forgotten as she smiled at him in amusement. Her fiance had a habit of liking things just a bit overcooked. 

A lot overcooked.

“Well, at least one of us will have a lunch for tomorrow.” She pouted. 

Sans merely chuckled and slyly glanced over to the corner of the kitchen at the same moment as his brother walked in. Papyrus’s loud exclamation and Frisk’s apologetic stammering faded to the back of his mind as his eyelight flared.

Gaster and Sans stared at each other.

His hold on Frisk tightened. 

“Sans?” He blinked and his father was gone. 

Belatedly he took in the way he was standing, like a wall separating where Gaster had been from the rest of the room. His suddenly blurry gaze lingered on the empty corner with a hostile intent roaring through his bones. 

When had he let go of Frisk? 

...Why was Gaster showing up again?

Feeling unnerved he forced a grin and made sure to carefully control his tone as he turned with a shrug. “sup?” 

“You okay?” Frisk drawled slowly, her eyes flickering from where he’d been facing and back to him. If he didn’t know better Sans would swear Frisk knew Gaster had been there too. Coming into her powers he knew she would start to be able to feel distortions just as they could, but he worried; Frisk wasn’t officially tied to the family yet.

Was Gaster so strong now that his human fiance, a simple mage, could sense him?

“fine, just wondering if we have enough ketchup to go with dinner.” Papyrus frowned.

“YOU NEED TO SEE A HEALER FOR THAT ATROCIOUS SENSE OF TASTE.” Sans inwardly sighed as Frisk giggled. He couldn’t help but to be thankful that his brother helped with the subject change. This wasn’t something that needed to be talked about right now, hopefully ever.

He watched as Papyrus stole a spoon and a new mixing bowl. He looked really determined to teach Frisk some skills in the kitchen and Sans wasn’t complaining, he always enjoyed a show.

Even if he was incapable of relaxing now.

~~

(Post Prom&Tok)

Frisk blinked sleepily and let out a yawn, her heavy lids fluttering as she slowly sat up. She frowned as she looked down at herself to see her everyday clothing and cloak adorning her instead of the pajamas she’d worn to bed.

What?

She blinked, and then she was on her feet, Sans standing in front of her with his cloak billowing ominously in the wind whipping around the both of them. His sockets were void of light, and his posture was hunched, almost broken looking. 

An echoing and child-like sob had her looking around to see no one in sight. 

Was she dreaming? 

Frisk didn’t know what to think as a low growl caught her attention. Confused, she looked behind her and froze. 

A being of blackest night stood tall and imposing, their face horrifyingly cracked and grin maliciously wide. Eight hands floated around the creature, circling and moving with purpose. 

She didn’t know how to explain it, but she could feel them staring at her, and it felt terrifyingly familiar. It didn’t take much for her to realize it was the same feeling she’d felt that one lazy afternoon in the kitchen.

Her blood began to race.

There was no doubt what she was looking at was an Unseelie.

“G U I L T Y.”

A stab of ice and terror raced through her at the word, Sans’s voice echoing around her and plunging her under a shroud of fear. 

Guilty?

The next thing she knew it was an out of body experience. Sans and the Unseelie stared each other down and the scene darkened, turned to hues of grays and blues as a chuckle, low and fervent came from her husband. 

It sounded nothing like him.

The Unseelie spoke, and his voice grated Frisk’s hearing like nails on a chalkboard.

“SuCh A dIsApPoInTmEnT...TRAITOR!” 

She just barely caught the way Sans flinched but there was no missing how the air turned cold, how his smile impossibly grew but at the same time lost all hints of emotion.

It was like Sans became a shell, nothing but an empty vessel.

His voice was unusually quiet and subdued, “traitor...thought you hated jokes old man.” 

Her heart skipped painfully in shock. 

Old man? Was this...Sans’s father?

Her silent question was answered for her.

“YoU aRe No SoN oF MiNe…” With that something seemed to break, and the atmosphere instantly ran thick and suffocating. 

Her husband’s smile dipped but quickly recovered and then--

Frisk watched as Sans charged, a blast of ice coating the ground as he propelled himself forward. His expression was haunting, a grin so wide with sockets to match. Her heart hammered as he brought a hand up, thick white phalanges coated in contrastingly beautiful frost and blue magic.

An animistic roaring filled her ears as she spun to see Sans’s father curling and shooting forward like smoke to meet him, the eight levitating hands bloating to gigantic proportions and surrounding him like a cruel halo.

Sans’s hand jabbed out in silent command and bones, both blue and white, formed to shoot forward; thick tails of ice and snow rending the air in their wake as they rushed passed her suddenly spawned body. 

Frisk cried out as one came close to scraping her cheek but dodged out of the way in the nick of time and narrowly avoided being swept away with the attacks by a wide sweep of one colossal hand as it batted them away. 

“What’s happening!?” She shouted in fear, her skin breaking into a cold sweat. 

Frisk went ignored as the hand that had so easily dismissed her husband’s assault met Sans, his smile lifting in one corner before he vanished and reappeared above it, hand raised and then brought down in a furious snap that spawned two demonic looking heads. 

Her eyes widened as their jaws unhinged and two jets of freezing azure light erupted, shooting out with deafening noise like thunder as they connected and shattered the levitating limb in a fashion like glass. 

The Unseelie, let out a pain filled shriek.

Sans landed on one of the floating skulls, a light Frisk couldn’t make out from the distance between them flaring briefly in one socket as his cloak and clothing whipped violently around him. “heh, looks like you’re out of practice gaster, but what do i know? i never practice.”

Gaster looked up scornfully, something Frisk hadn’t noticed before around his wide socket blurring and glowing with an ominous aura as he grew in size and hissed nastily through his own demented smile.

“bUt Of CoUrSe, YoUr BrOtHeR wAs AlWaYs ThE PrOmIsInG oNe!”

Another sob, louder than the first drew Frisk’s gaze and it landed on a huddled child; a smaller skeleton bent over and tucked into himself with his hands covering his face. But there could be no mistake, not with the sharply red colored cloak around his shoulders, smaller but still as eye catching and attention seeking as it’s longer counterpart.

It was Papyrus, and Frisk’s heart ached. 

Sans’s grin finally dropped. 

Gaster whipped up and twirled into the sky like an arching bolt of smoke, his hands moving in front of his face in a circular formation as they begun to spin rapidly. A low whine turning sharp and high pitched snapped Frisk’s attention from where it rested on Papyrus to both of the combating fae.

“Stop it…” She didn’t know why but the words were leaving her mouth without her consent as a burning in her chest grew intense. 

“Stop it!” She cried out just as Sans raised a hand and summoned another skull; this one bigger than the others with immense blue power rolling off of it in thick waves, causing thick icicles to form and instantly break into countless shards around it.. 

Dark and tainted cold light, pitched and subtly hued purple on it’s edges, burst forth from Gaster’s hands just as Sans pointed towards him, the gigantic skull unhinging it’s massive jaw and firing--

“STOP IT!” Frisk shouted till her voice cracked--

The world was engulfed in blinding light.

And then she was falling.

“Seems you did not like that little glimpse into my son’s past.”

She jolted as everything snapped into darkness, leaving her dazed and with a thick feeling of cotton in her mouth. Blinking, the area began to brighten as her eyes adjusted to reveal she was now looking at a stone wall. 

From what she could tell she was in a cavern.

Swallowing nervously she took a step forward, yelping as a shape came from seemingly nowhere in front of her and forced her shockingly weakened legs to waver as she hurried to take a step back. 

Frisk stared with her hands clutched to her chest, waiting for her heart to stop racing. 

Was she still dreaming? It was difficult for her to focus on the thought, the issue slipping just out of reach every time she attempted to answer it. Why was it so hard to concentrate?

“Frightened? Not surprising for a human in the Unseelie realm.” She flinched at how close the voice sounded. 

Twisting her head this way and that she couldn’t make out anything other than the abnormally dark spot in front of her. That feeling was back again, and it was just as present and unnerving as the first time she’d ever felt it.

“U-unseelie...realm?” Her voice came out shy and breathy, the air around her feeling chilly and cold. Now she understood what she felt; it was a feeling of being unsafe, so vulnerable. She was hyper aware of just how powerless she instantly was.

The voice, observant but yet somehow soothing in it’s tone spoke up, “Yes, you need not worry however. No one dares to enter my dwelling here.” 

Frisk found no comfort in the mystery man’s words, instead she only hunched into herself as she tried to fight off the unending chill and frost threatening her skin. A moment of silence fell between them and it was if the entity knew she didn’t have the strength to respond.

“I forget how fragile your race is, allow me to adjust the space for you.” 

There was no warning. The darkness just suddenly brightened and illuminated the space around her almost blindingly like someone had casually thrown a candle in her face, and warmth instantly replaced the abnormal glacial air that had had her teeth nearly rattling.

She didn’t even get the chance to adjust to the sudden flux in her surroundings and assault on her senses before the voice was back. “It’s bothersome how hard it is to read you. Usually I have no trouble in knowing what one needs or feels, but in this case it’s exceedingly difficult. Although I am enjoying it.”

Sucking in air through her nose she rubbed her hands over her eyes and focused on how clear the cavern was now, noticing with a start that the blacker than black spot still stood in front of her, the edges of it curling and coiling like thin tendrils. 

Gradually it shifted and Frisk fisted her hands to try and fight off the wave of bizarre wrongness she felt as the top morphed into what she could see as shoulders before a face emerged, transforming into a taller and darkly elegant looking fae. The bizarre placement of a monocle over a wide socket disturbed her in just how menacing it made him look, but not as much as the cracks her eyes traced.

Right away she recognized him. “Are you...Gaster?” 

He appeared satisfied as he smiled at her. “An accurate assumption.” 

His gaze panned her form for a brief moment before looking back up at her confused expression. His monocle sparked with light ominously. “I would say it’s a pleasure to meet my daughter in law finally, but given the situation that would be a lie.” 

A cold sting raced down her spine as he moved closer to her, his form so imposing and tall in comparison to her withdrawn statue it made her mouth go dry. He easily dwarfed her. “I always knew Sans had unusual tastes but a human bride no less. I see he still maintains his passive aggressive attitude.” 

Frisk didn’t know how to take that but her heart gradually stopped racing as Gaster shifted a bit further from her, the oppressive feeling he radiated dulling with the small distance. It was enough to allow Frisk to gain her bearings, and one fact came slamming back down.

“You said we’re in the Unseelie realm!?” 

The place Sans had vanished to for three years!? What was only three days to him!? 

Frisk felt a wave of panic start to sink in.

How long had she been here!? Would anyone look for her? Did Seelie willingly send out search parties for vanishing mages? Did Sans and Papyrus know? What would Pap do--

Oh no.

Sans

What if he thought something had happened to her? Had thought she’d abandoned him?

“I-I need to get home!” Gaster raised a brow.

“Do you believe that a real possibility for you currently?” He sounded amused.

Frisk found sudden strength as she stood tall and faced Gaster down. No one was going to use her to hurt the ones she loved, especially the only one that had ever loved her when she’d needed it most, and Gaster wasn’t going to keep her here if she could help it.

He was surprised as Frisk attempted to look intimidating, her aura of magic spiking around her as small iridescent flames sparked in a bewitching halo to frame her body. Her emotional response wasn’t what he’d been expecting, in fact, he hadn’t even seen it coming. 

Gaster was definitely enjoying this.

“What are you planning to do? In a one on one fight your chances of winning are low, I have centuries of experience next to you.”  His words seemed to have the impact he desired as he watched her slowly wilt, her flames turning dim as the courage she found turned sour.

But then she perked up again, her flames blooming into raging infernos that wrapped along her arms to ball within her hands. It wasn’t hard for the scientist to imagine the flaring of her soul, to picture it brimming with her determination as she spoke with a tone commanding attention and confidence.

“It doesn’t mean I still shouldn’t try!” 

Gaster shot her a disinterested look but all the same willed his hands into existence and watched her eyes go wide as they enlarged large enough that she could have easily fit through a hole in the center of one palm three times over. 

Still she didn’t back down.

She was either a brave fool, or a desperate mouse wanting an out.

After a moment of Gaster trying and not so surprisingly failing to calculate the ramifications of the possible fallout if they fought he dismissed his hands with a blink. She looked confused as her flames vanished but he simply spoke as if the standoff hadn’t just happened between them.

“I have no desire to fight a battle I would easily win. Instead, tell me human, do you know what an End of an Era is?” Frisk frowned. She didn’t like how that question sounded, she didn’t like how much hearing ‘End of an Era’ made her skin crawl, and could only shake her head as he pressed the tips of his many fingers on his numerous hands together. 

His one good socket narrowed as he spoke.

“Its when the Rulers lose their lives, the end of the current millennia, unlike normal Seelie and their dark counterparts their lifespans are shorter. An unfortunate drawback to being the anchor that holds the Realms very existences in place, to keep magic itself alive and flowing.” She tensed as he moved around her, his embodied darkness bending and flickering like excited vapor as he continued.

“At the Age’s end the realms temporarily vanish, and those fae, mages, all magical beings still alive are suspended in the Either until the previous ruler’s heir or another is selected to become the new anchor. In the meantime the Veil is what keeps your human world safe from the endless flow of magic until the reformation year is up.”

“Reformation year?” Gaster let his hand drop behind his back as he smiled. If he didn’t make her feel so uncomfortable Frisk could have seen the smile almost friendly, like a teacher to a student in a way. Why he was even speaking to her about this she didn’t know, but curiosity had her focusing on his words.

The derisive chuckle he let out quickly banished all temporary illusion of friendliness. 

“You have a very interesting soul, Frisk.” Her hand instantly went to cover her chest.

“You have an interesting eye piece.” His sockets widened and she bit her lip. It felt so similar to when she’d first met Sans, she’d responded just as absent and truthfully when he’d commented on her eyes. 

Was she...at ease...somehow?

Gaster stared silently at her. “...My monocle interests you…”

She looked hesitantly at him. “Is it how you were able to see me in the Seelie Realm?” He went quiet again and Frisk wondered what he was thinking as an emotion seemed to cross his face so quickly she would’ve thought she imagined it.

“...I see, so you knew I was watching did you?” 

“I guessed…” She whispered. 

Gaster was impressed. 

Her heart began to race as he suddenly glided closer to her, close enough that she could see the tiny iridescent gems of rolling colors embedded in the monocle over his one working eyelight as it pulsed brightly.

“It takes a year of human time for the realms to reform and for the Either’s magical influence to settle in it’s new host, that’s why it’s called a reformation year.” He paused and seemed to contemplate Frisk’s befuddled expression before pulling back and cupping his bony chin.

He hadn’t expected Sans’s wife to be this intelligent. Gaster had been right to assume the amount of potential she had, and the soul she carried...Maybe there was something special about her after all.

“Are you sure you still want to know why I have this? Why I am able to see through the veil?” The way he tapped the eye piece, languid and slow made Frisk’s nerves shoot up. But she had asked, and despite everything she had always been too curious for her own good.

“Yes.”

Gaster’s smirk dropped and his sockets darkened.

“When fae and magical beings alike are suspended in the Either the Veil not only protects you humans but us as well. It puts us to sleep as many call it, though that’s far too simple a term and not as close to what it means, what actually happens to us.” His words faded out, went weak until silence swallowed them as he stared unseeing passed Frisk.

He looked haunted and beguiled. 

She didn’t know what to make of that complicated expression but for some reason it hurt her to witness it. Gaster looked as if he’d seen things no other being ever had before. Frisk just didn’t know if that was necessarily a good thing.

He blinked and refocused on her.

“The Veil coats us similar to a shield and blinds us as well. That’s what it’s supposed to do at least. The last occurrence, however, failed to protect me the way it should have.” Gaster watched as Frisk bit her lip and could easily tell how she automatically wanted to comfort him. 

But he ignored it as flashbacks threatened to overcome his vision. Memories he didn’t have all but begging to drown him in their morose nonexistence. It always fascinated him how he could talk about them, but never truly live them, only feel their presence and the old ghostly burning of his torment as if he’d experienced it only seconds ago.

He took a carefully hidden breath and looked at her dully. 

“I was awake, and the Either burned into my sockets and mind endlessly.” 

Frisk felt an icy shiver run up her back as the unfathomable horror of his words struck her speechless. 

He...had been tortured for a year…

Something about that statement resonated with her. It wasn’t the same thing that she’d gone through growing up, in fact it was worse but, she knew what it was like to feel hopeless. To feel as if the torment would never end and to sometimes silently beg to give just about anything to be free of it.

When she didn’t react Gaster simply shrugged. “A year of screaming with no one to hear would have broken a person, but I survived.” 

That didn’t make what he’d gone through okay. 

He didn’t give Frisk the chance to say it out loud though as he turned his back to her, the tenseness in his shoulders going lax as he stood straighter and let out a bored sigh.

“And when we woke up the first thing I did was shortcut to my lab where I took the Either, still filling and pouring from my sockets, and collected it in a flask. Astonishingly once it no longer clung to me but only to the cold and unfeeling glass in my hands it solidified, almost crystallized I would say, instantaneously.” 

He turned to face Frisk again and this time there was a light in his sockets, something warm and full of curiosity that it shocked her to see in an Unseelie gaze.

“Of course I went completely blind in one eye and partially in the other. Though I began to notice how different the realm around me was. Where a pond or tree would rest all I’d have to do is blink and it would instead be nothing but cracked and brittle ground with an obsidian lantern in the tree’s stead. It was gradual at first but then became constant.” 

He paused to give an annoyed roll of his eyelight. “And each time it would leave me with the worst of migraines! Even worse than my son’s ridiculous puns!” 

How frustrated he sounded and the way a floating hand waved dismissively had Frisk struggling to not let out a giggle. Gaster looked so enthused it was hard for her to keep telling herself to be weary of him. His tone had gone fond and so eager with every sentence he spoke.

He suddenly seemed so normal talking about this.

“But then I had an idea, maybe I was glancing through the Veil, each vision was startlingly similar to what the Unseelie realm was described as in the texts, and this ability only manifested after the Either had affected me.” Gaster grinned sharply, his hands wringing together as he looked at Frisk with a sobering conviction that bordered madness.

She sobered.

“If the Either could take away my sight, why couldn’t it help grant me another?” She had a feeling she knew where he was going with this and she felt her stomach drop.

“The gems in your monocle, it’s the solidified Either?” He looked so proud at her answer that it did weird things to her chest. A sense of accomplishment, a feeling of satisfaction. Frisk had only felt that particular way once before, and it had been the only time her father had ever smiled at her.

Gaster...found himself wanting to be honest with her.

“...You’re more intelligent than I’ve given you credit for.” The feeling increased in Frisk’s chest. 

“Excellent for a human, my son wasn’t completely clueless choosing a partner after all it seems.” And the feeling quickly changed to a mild offence as she frowned. Apparently Gaster was where Sans and Papyrus both got their mood ruining habits from.

“But yes, it turns out the gems when placed in a particular fashion can infuse objects. This eye piece not only allows me to peer easily through the Veil without repercussions but to choose when it happens. It offers me control.”

Frisk did not like the way his eyelight flared, the sheer malice and mania inside of it. But it didn’t scare her, if anything it made pity form a knot inside of her. She hesitated but found the strength to say what had been on her mind as he’d ranted and raved.

“It must be awful, being here alone?” 

Gaster’s face for the briefest moment went lax. His built up excitement and sense of triumph shattered as if Frisk had taken a hammer to it and replaced the feeling with a cold sensation of apathy. 

“I...can’t fully imagine what it’s like for you. You seem so…” Her words failed her but still she struggled to get her meaning across as Gaster leveled a detached stare so piercing it felt as if her very soul had been laid out in the open. “...like you’re meant to be around people, to create and discover and then share that with others.”

He slowly looked down at nothing and he didn’t know why he said what he did but found he didn’t regret it. For some reason it was bizarrely easy to confide in this particular human. “...It’s a similar feeling to being in the Either, only there’s no hope of it ending.”  

Frisk’s response was instant. 

“There’s always hope. Even if it feels impossible.” 

Gaster looked sharply up at her.

“Such confidence when the evidence says otherwise. There has never been an Unseelie returning to their previous nature once banished and I stand firm on my belief even now. You humans are nothing but trouble, the very reason our monarchy and the magic in the world goes ignored and depleted.” Frisk flinched but stood resolute before him, squared her shoulders even as she clutched her hand to her chest.

“Beliefs can change…” Her mind flashed back to her parents, doubt and confusion trying to turn her voice hollow, but she pushed the vision down and said “People can change. If they are just willing too.” 

Gaster turned to fully face her and his many hands vanished as his grin turned into a firm and curt line. He had never seen such fire in a being before, her determination shone so strongly it nearly emanated from the golden tone of her eyes turning them brighter.

He had never seen golden irises before in his many years of life, how was he just noticing them?

“Where does such hope come from? The conviction in your eyes?” 

A smile, warmer than summer and brighter than the darkness he’d long become accustomed to slowly curved her lips as her thoughts instantly went to horrible jokes and a grin so expressive even in its perpetual existence. And her eyes softened as she thought on political rants and the smell of tomato sauce within loving arms.

“Your sons gave me that.”

His face crumbled and Frisk saw the way his already hollowed sockets emptied even further. Watched as his hands flickered in and out of reality as if he couldn’t concentrate enough to decide on summoning them or not. 

Gaster looked pained and so remorseful that it felt as if it saturated the air itself. 

She...wanted to help him.

“How did you end up here?” 

Gaster didn’t speak and the air around them grew heavy and suffocating as his stature steadily grew dauntingly taller. Like a switch had been flipped his whole demeanor changed into hostile and violent, his monocle glaring white as he begun to approach her with corrupted intent.

Caught off guard Frisk took a step back and stumbled, her rear and hands stinging as she fell to the ground and continued to move backwards. Her mind raced to figure out what she’d done to cause Gaster to slowly corner her. Her blood was rushing loudly in her ears like a deafening roar and it took all her will not to cry out, only to continue in her retreat in a bid to keep distance between them. 

Her heart was threatening to rupture in her chest.

Gaster’s voice was low but it was loud enough in the stillness engulfing them as he bent over her. “That is a story I don’t feel like telling.” it was laced with utter rancor and spite. 

“Why don’t you ask that husband of yours?” 

Frisk felt her lungs lock up as her back hit wall and tried to curl in on herself as he so cruelly leaned down and closer to her that the darkness of his form devoured the area and space around her. Like a vortex that consumed everything in it’s path.

Sans? Was it to do with what she’d seen earlier?

Her father in law gave an amused and mordacious leer.

“After all, you’re not even here.” 

Her cry was cut short as the world went black and tilted, smoky darkness and the scent of something bitter flooding her senses and suffocating her. She tried to push back, tried to get away but there was no escaping.

It was the closet again--

Mom was home--

Shouting--

“frisk!” 

She jolted upright, the piercing sob she let out loud and bloodcurdling right before she felt a pair of bony arms wrap around her. 

For only the briefest second she struggled, the thought of Gaster’s enraged sockets and the sound of her mother’s voice sending her into a frenzy to escape, but quickly she relaxed as the smell of ketchup and the clothed ribs she was tucked against registered through the panicked haze. 

She...she was in bed?

Blinking she tried to get her breathing under control as Sans rocked her.

“hey, it’s okay. shh was just a nightmare. i gotcha.” His words were so reassuring just as they always were when she had night terrors, but the feeling of asphyxiating darkness still clung to her skin like static.

It wasn’t just a nightmare.

But she couldn’t bring herself to say it, not with how she clung to him and felt the sins and fears of her past rolling down the slope of her sweat soaked back. For now she was selfish, she only wanted Sans’s comfort.

She shut her eyes and tucked further into him as she relished the feeling of his phalanges running through her tangled hair and brushing away tears that had run down her cheeks. She grounded herself with how he began to hum a calming tune as he nuzzled her.

Gaster’s words echoed…ask your husband.

For the life of her she couldn’t figure out what that meant. 

What was there she didn’t know about Sans? He never kept secrets...at least she didn’t think he had any to keep, he’d always been so open with her, said what was on his mind.

But then again she hadn’t known about Gaster.

G U I L T Y

She hadn’t known he could sound like that or look so...dangerous.

“Sorry.” Anxiety and curiosity made her hoarse reply come out a near whimper but her loving husband only chuckled lightly.

“nothing to apologize for, wasn’t really out. sleeping desserted me tonight.” Frisk weakly glanced over to his end table and snorted as she saw a half melted sundae sitting abandoned.

“Papyrus is going to get onto you for midnight snacking again.” She commented.

Sans gave a wink. “only if he finds out. going to turn me in?” 

Frisk smiled and felt the last of her tension melt away. “Never.”

 Tomorrow was another day and she’d ask him then, maybe with sleep she would have a clearer head for the upcoming conversation. There was not an ounce of doubt in her mind that it wasn’t going to be a sensitive subject for him.

And she was too haunted by her own demons tonight to try confronting his.

~~

“Sans--we need to talk.” The words felt rough in her throat but she didn’t waver as Sans pulled up short of the door to turn and face her. 

The look he gave her was one of mild confusion, he hadn’t heard her sound so uncertain since she was a child, and he let his hand drop from where it had risen halfway to the handle. He gave her his full attention as he widened his smile at her and forced his concern behind a wall of habitual patience as he responded. “sure, what’s up?” 

“...Right now?” Frisk was a little taken aback at how quickly he relented. He was about to head off to work but instead he was delaying to make sure she was okay. Frisk forgot sometimes just how attentive and caring he was, how often he put her first before everything besides Paps.

It almost made her change her mind bringing the topic up in the first place. She really didn’t want to upset him. Not when he looked so ready to placate or fix whatever was bothering her.

He always did so much for her.

Sans was silent as he noticed her shuffle in place, his eyelights taking in how she shyly looked at the floor with hesitancy. Something was definitely wrong, maybe to do with her night terrors from last night? 

He tried his best to give a lazy chuckle and added a shrug for good measure. “i have time. undyne isn’t going to say much.” 

Frisk swallowed.

“It’s about Gaster.” 

That was the last thing Sans expected to hear from her. His eyelights immediately went out and a chill permeated the air as all the light around them seemed to dim and fade out with how his aura flared and spiked. 

Frisk tensed, her eyes going wide as she recalled Gaster and his suffocating darkness. Suddenly she was also recalling how Sans had looked in her dream and she wasn’t even thinking as she took several steps back. 

Sans was quick to notice the retreat. 

She never ran from him, Frisk never looked as if she might be at risk around him.

It hurt, it was a harsh slap from sanity.

Immediately he blinked his eyelights back into existence and the mood shifted, the light turning once more to its previous brightness as a drop of sweat ran the curve of his skull. His mind was racing and he found it hard to concentrate on anything other than his wife and how she cowed.

“i’m sorry frisk i--i didn’t mean to.” She quivered as he reached for her but she didn’t fight him as he embraced her. He swallowed down the magical saliva building in his nonexistent throat. “just...how do you know that name?” 

Frisk’s tensed posture loosened at the remorse she heard in his voice, the fear. Sans appeared terrified, but rather from her knowing or from just who exactly Gaster was she couldn’t be sure.

“I met him.” Before she knew it Sans was holding her at arms length with his hands gripping her shoulders, not enough to hurt or bruise but firmly, as if she could slip through his grip and be lost within seconds. 

His tone was hushed but stern, hard as iron and cold. “what do you mean you met him?” 

She had to remind herself that this was her husband, he’d never hurt her and would be the last person who’d ever wish any ill will on her, that he loved her in order not to shrink under his aggravated gaze.

She’d never seen this side to him before. He was so...uncontrolled. “My nightmare…last night.” 

Sans shook and gritted his teeth as he forced his hands under his cloak so that she couldn’t see the way his hands balled into tightly clenched fists. His sockets lidded in thought.

It had been years since Sans had even heard that name last and it angered him how now that he did it was from his own wife of all people. It was bad enough he’d seen him before they’d gotten married. He should’ve known that wouldn’t be the last time he saw him.

What was his old man up to?

“i don’t want you looking into this.” Frisk looked at him. 

It sounded like he had just given her an order, not a request or even a soft plea, a command. And it made something harden in her chest, burn in rebellion. Out of the whole time she’d known him Sans had never made demands of her. 

“What?” Sans leveled a look so empty and void of all his familiar softness it felt as if a stranger was standing in front of her. 

“i’m serious. gaster is dangerous. stay away from him.”

She bit back the initial response that built up on the tip of her tongue. Why she had the sudden urge to fight him so fervently on the subject puzzled her, it was just a feeling; a boiling and simmering feeling of wrongness for her to listen and cut off all contact with the Unseelie.

Something was telling her there was another path she could take, a better one.

It couldn’t be wrong if her very soul cried for her to obey could it?

Unknowingly what she said struck her husband like a blow. “I want to help him.” 

Sans...was outraged, frozen in shock. 

Frisk didn’t know the implication behind her statement, how insulting it was to his role as Judge. In a way it sounded as if she thought there was a flaw behind what he’d done, as if there was hope for someone he’d deemed beyond any sort of salvation.

She wasn’t aware just how damning it sounded to throw her support behind a being who represented everything wrong and unnatural with the world and how it should be. By saying what she did Frisk might as well have just crushed a flower beneath her heel and called life itself disgusting.

But this was Frisk.

There were times he forgot just how pure she was. How determined and strong the woman he loved could be if she tried hard enough, of course she’d want to help someone if she could, that’s all she’d ever wanted as a child. Why wouldn’t she give that back tenfold as an adult?

He loved her, so much.

It was that fact alone that cooled him and made his voice come out weak instead of bitter. “you can’t.” 

If his own dust and blood wasn’t enough what hope did she have? She was only going to end up hurt if she tried and Sans did not want that. He could already see the cogs turning in her head and he hated it.

He couldn’t think of a way to convince her.

Frisk didn’t believe him, she desperately wanted to after all as a fae he knew more about how his world worked, but she just couldn’t. Something in the way his shoulders slumped told her she couldn’t ignore this.

She let out a gasp of shock as he abruptly turned away and opened the door. He was going to leave? Just like that? They hadn’t even finished talking.

What was happening? “Sans--”

“frisk.” 

He paused long enough to speak but didn’t even turn to look at her. “i have to go.”

Her heart felt like it broke as the door shut behind him. But she knew the pain was nothing compared to his, he’d sounded as if he’d been about to cry with how his voice had broken, she’d seen the way his shoulders had shook. 

Frisk wondered if he even knew he’d reacted that way.

[mcmystery]

He’ll Adore You. (Cerise x Mr. B)

During their long travels around Remnant, Cerise’s mysterious companion thought it would be best for them to visit her family back in the South West of Anima. Since during their travels, Cerise and him have been through a lot. She accompanied him as he traveled for his work and got to experience all the wonders and cultures of each continent. She eagerly agreed, bouncing up and down at the idea that she would be returning home to see her parents and properly introduce him to them.

From the first day Cerise met and confessed her love to him; he let her join him on his business trip, since he saw the potential in her of wanting to experience the world and showing her how she can aid those in need. Since that first day to the present, she has shown her deep admiration for him, and respected his feelings if he was to never return them back. Yet, during their journey together, he witnessed her ambition and compassion for others. He let down his walls around her despite his troubled past. Though it was her honesty and innocence that slowly won him over.

These growing feelings soon began to slip within his interactions with her. He would smile more warmly at her, cherish their conversations, and welcomed her more within his personal space. When the opportunity was right, he sat her down and humbly returned those feelings towards her. Cerise, of course, was ecstatic and hopelessly falling deeper in love with him.

So on to their new little trip to visiting Cerise’s village, her partner queried that he would like to know more about her family since he’ll be meeting them for the first time. 

He glanced over at Cerise who walked by his side, cheerfully looking straight ahead. “Cerise, may I ask more about what your family is like?”

Cerise lightheartedly smiled at him, “Hm? Oh, of course! Like I mentioned before, my parents are wonderful! I’m soo excited for you to meet them!” She clasped her hands together and brought them close to the side of her face as she glanced at him.

He smiled back at her charming behavior, the excitement she displayed warmed him. “Hmm,” he began, “you’ve mentioned your mother before; what about your father? What’s he like?”

Cerise’s pace gradually came to a stop, “Ohhh~ He’s tall!” She exclaims while raising her hands as far above her head that she could reach, even on her tippy toes she tried to scale out her father’s stature.

He stopped as well to watch her display, “Tall?”

Cerise lowered herself and her arms back down, “Mhm!” she confirmed, “Taller than you! And really strong!!” Once again doing a display of flexing both her arms as much as she could muster, while scrunching her eyes closed and gave a confident smile.

He chuckled with a bit of worry on his brow.

Cerise relaxed her pose before speaking again, “But I think that makes sense since he hunts and is the local butcher for our village after all.”

“A b-butcher?” He probed.

“Yup! He even taught me how to hunt and skin a bit.” Cerise mentioned with confidence.

She began to walk again with her handsome partner following in her pace. He thought a bit about Cerise’s father’s job description and how it made a bit of sense with how she knew some tricks of the trade. Another questioned followed up with these thoughts.

“And you said you’re an only child, correct?” He asked. “He must be… protective of you.”

Cerise ponders on this for a bit before she responds. “I guess you can say that.” She smiles again, “Now that I think about it, when I was younger a group of boys were messing with me and he gave them quiet a scare!” She laughed innocently at the memory. As her laughter evened, she placed her hand in a questioned manner to her chin. “Hmm, I didn’t see them much after that…”

He gulped at that little note. “So… what would he think of you…” pausing for a moment. “and me? Together? Traveling alone? Staying at inns?”

Cerise smiles gleefully at his questions and moves closer to him, she pats his back repeatedly in an energetic motion. “I’m sure that once he meets you, he’ll just adore you!!” Followed by her giggles.

She brings her hand back to her space. Placing both her palms to cup her face, closing her eyes and begins to exhibit a blush across her cheeks. “Besides, I don’t think he’ll harm my first boyfriend.”

He abruptly gave her a look of shock. Of course, they had both told each other their feelings at this point, but he hadn’t brought up that question yet to her on where their relationship stood. In fact, it was the whole reason why he wanted to take her back home, so he could properly meet her parents and ask for their permission to officially date their daughter. To think Cerise sees him already in this light might mix up his plans. His thoughts went over her statement again and became fixated on a single word.

“F-first?” He began to feel the heat raise from his neck and under his hair line.

“That’s right! You’re my first love~!” She bounced gently towards him and clung to his arm, hugging it tightly and smiling blissfully as her face flushed a deeper shade.

Even with her sudden actions, it didn’t waver his gaze into space of looming fear that washing over him. His thoughts started to rush all at once with dread at each realization.

“She’s an only child. Her father’s protective. He’s a butcher.” His thoughts began to extend their range of concern. “Am I really her first love? Her first boyfriend? She met me, a complete stranger, and professed her love to me the same day we met. I let her travel with me, and we’ve been traveling alone together.”

Sweat began to form and he’s face paled at the realization, “Staying at inns. Separate rooms of course.” He reasoned, but that reason was thrown out with how it will come across to a parent. “But would he believe that?!”

All these forced thoughts came to him as he recalled just the recent conversation, “WHY DIDN’T SHE SEE THOSE BOYS AGAIN?” His heart started to pump harder, “NOT ONLY THAT BUT I’M A HUNTSMAN. PUTTING HIS DAUGHTERS LIFE IN DANGER. TRAINING HER. TEACHING HER. I’M TECHNICALLY HER MENTOR AND SHE’S- SHE’S-!!”

“You okay there, honey? You suddenly look pale.” Cerise glanced up at him in worry as he didn’t say much.

He held her hand that gripped onto his arm, in a way of finding comfort for his trouble thought. “I’m just… mentally preparing myself…”

[venusxxlangdon]

Michael Langdon x reader x Roman Godfrey headcanons

warnings: polyamory, smut, double penetration, oral, edging, mentioning of blood and face fucking, cum eating, daddy kink, soft dominance 

words: 5.2k

A/N: thank you guys for 1.1k followers, here are some hcs for one of my favorite pairings. Some of y’all’s asks have been answered here as well. Honorable mention of @micheallangdons who plotted these hcs with me    

moodboard by @micheallangdons

Before Roman met Michael and Y/N his life as a newly born upir had been nothing but an endless battle with his demonic nature. Days full of self-loathing and helpless attempts to tame his hunger had gone by before he gave up and quenched his thirst for blood, much to his mother’s triumph. She was so proud of him while he felt nothing but utter disgust and a deep abyss in his heart. Her praise seemed nothing but mockery. She could dance on his bones and still preach about her good intentions.

He did not want to admit that she had won the battle. Roman felt like he was falling deeper into the dark void. Was he going to spend the rest of his life like that? Abandoned and scared of hurting everyone he knew? These questions kept him wide awake in the middle of the silver nights and made him drown his sorrows in cognac and cigarette smoke.

He felt like an addict, storming from one bar into another, looking for hookers to feed on and then sending his people to hide the victims’ bodies. Eventually, it all turned into a regular routine and he mastered the art of draining every drop of blood from humans necks without even staining his always perfectly ironed shirts. He decided that if he turned into a stone-cold machine with no feelings and the slightest idea of attachment he would feel better. Having focused on his parents' empire, the Godfrey Institute, he became a business tycoon: ambitions, cunning, manipulating. Unfortunately, it was calm before the storm. His mother always knew what buttons to push to make him snap and lose the strings of control over his ruthless guise.

It was the night when everything went downhill. Blood was hammering in his temples, fingers gripped onto the sterling weel as he was driving to a familiar location, a bar where he was a frequent visitor. A passing car flashed the headlights, illuminating Roman’s jet black eyes. The usual forest green hues with bluish spots were swallowed up by the unbearable hunger. He could feel the roof of his mouth starting to itch, his heart beating faster.

Factitious self-control wafted around his tall figure when he entered the club. He looked out of place dressed in his black dress shirt and matching tailored slacks, the look on his face intense like an upcoming thunder, electrifying in the thick air. 

Something felt different at that time. His nostrils flared, breathing in the mix of expensive alcohol and smoke. He looked around scanning through the crowd of dancing bodies. It felt like hundreds of needles were piercing through the tips of his fingers; he gulped heavily, listening to the sound of crimson blood flowing through the people’s veins. There was something else. Something he could not quite catch. It was seeping through his fingers making it difficult for him to get a hold of it. He turned around on his heels, ignoring a confused look some girl shot at him and froze to his spot. What if his hunger caused these fantom feelings? The sensation became stronger. Godfrey turned his head in the direction of the far left corner of the spacious room. Something about it drew him closer to a big leather sofa where there was someone whom Roman had met before.

“Michael Langdon,” he breathed out, a bit too surprised. It was funny how he had not recognized his vibe immediately. They had met only once but it was something Godfrey would never forget. The blonde Antichrist had the most unique, alluring aura that would suffocate you if you did not know how to handle it. Even for Roman, who was only half-human, it was quite a challenge.

Michael was splayed out on the sofa with a glass of whiskey in his hand. Godfrey mentally rolled his eyes at the Antichrist’s outfit, ever so extravagant: a navy blue velvet dinner jacket paired with a white shirt, his neck adorned with a big burgundy bow made of the finest silk. Long, luscious locks flowed down his shoulders, curling slightly on its end. Two blue sapphires of his eyes were narrowed, studying Roman’s figure curiously. Godfrey would never admit it, but he felt very uncomfortable under Michael’s mischievous gaze. He instinctively wanted to straighten his back to look more confident, to show Langdon who was the boss. But the pretentious smirk ghosting over Michael’s lips indicated that the Antichrist could care less about the boy’s attempt to look powerful.

“Enjoying the evening, Mr. Godfrey?” He took a sip and swiped the tip of his pointed tongue over the corner of his mouth. Michael cocked his eyebrow at Roman, clearly being aware of the upir’s hunger.

“Quite a lot,” Roman sneered and moved his gaze at the girl sitting next to Langdon with her legs that were barely covered with a short dress hooked over his lap. She was looking at Roman through the thick fan of long dark lashes framing her eyes beautifully. There was something detached in the youthful beauty of her blush and a shy smile painting her lips. For some reason Godfrey found himself embarrassed and even looked away, meeting the mocking stare of Michael’s blue eyes.

“Care for a drink?” He asked, swirling the glass in his long fingers, the metal of his rings clicking against the cut. “You look...thirsty.”

Roman gritted his teeth, the sinew on his neck pulsing.

“How sweet that it’s the matter of your concern,” he muttered, still eyeing the girl from the corner of his eyes. She smiled and hid her face in the crook of Michael’s neck, her fingers grasping the fabric of his shirt. She braced one of her slender arms around his neck and brought her face to his ear.

“What was that, kitten?” Roman clicked his tongue disapprovingly at the pet name, suddenly feeling out of place. He looked around, searching for a new victim. He spotted a girl who was sitting alone at the bar and thought that she could be a nice option. Y/N’s voice drew him out of his thoughts.

“He’s the one,” she whispered in Michael’s ear, but it was audible enough for Roman’s hearing to catch it. He snapped his eyes back at her, noticing that she was looking at him again. Whatever she had meant, it was something that did not make Michael happy. He shifted in his seat and put the glass aside on the table.

“Are you sure, Y/N?” he asked, the threads of concern lacing into the tone of his voice. He gently took her chin between his thumb and index finger, slightly turning it to the side. “You can have anybody...think twice, sweetheart.”

Roman felt as if he had become an unwilling witness of something he could wish to have never seen. It all felt too intimate. He coughed and adjusted the cuffs of his shirt, wondering why he was still standing there. It seemed like the girl’s heavy gaze pinned him to the floor. Michael was frowning, tapping his fingers against the knee impatiently.

“Well, if you excuse me...” Godfrey started awkwardly and shoved his palms into the pockets of his slack, brushing his thumbs over the fabric. The girl was still whispering something into Michael’s ear. He looked so concentrated that for a second Roman thought that Langdon would not even notice if he left. God knew how long he had been standing there like a fool before Langdon finally spoke to him.

“Why don’t you join us, Roman?” He suddenly offered, and the girl giggled, playing with the blonde strand of Michael’s hair. Roman watched her twist the silky locks around her fingers and let them cascade down Langdon’s shoulders. He licked his lips nervously. “I believe I haven’t introduced you to the love of my love yet, and I’m dying to fix this little omission.”

The corners of Roman’s lips twitched in amusement.

“I’m a busy man, Mr. Langdon,” he shrugged, ignoring the fact that Michael had addressed him on the first-name basis. “Hence I’m afraid we won’t have time to discuss the latest gossips.” He noticed the way the girl’s face sulked and how she slightly pushed her bottom lip forward in a pitiful pout. For the reason unknown to him, his heart swelled and suddenly he wanted to do anything to erase the sad expression off her doll face. “But I’ll be more than glad to get introduced to a beautiful lady next to you.”

She smiled and extended her hand to him which he eagerly accepted, slightly squeezing her fingers. Her palm was soft, it felt like his large hands were wrapped in the finest, pearly silk. His whole body jolted up as soon as he touched her. A shiver ran down his spine, and he looked at her with wide eyes. By the devilish sparks in her eyes, he knew she had felt it too.

“Y/N,” She said, and her voice turned out to be much lower than he had expected. “Y/N, Y/L/N.”

He smiled back and bent forward at the waist to bring his face closer to her hand and leave a quick kiss on her delicate skin.

“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Y/L/N. I’m Roman Godfrey, a CEO of the Godfrey Institute,” he answered proudly.

It was the beginning of something bigger than him, bigger than all of them.

A quick conversation with Langdon and his little pet, that was how Roman referred to the girl in his head, had managed to distract him from his hunger only for a short time. Soon enough he found himself apologizing for having to leave so soon.

He did not waste any time when grabbing the girl he had spotted earlier by the elbow and dragging her out of the club. Luckily she was way too drunk to care. He flashed his best smile at her, and she followed him to the car, giggling every time she stumbled on her heels.

Roman did not pay any attention when she put her hands on his crotch and tried to rub him through the fabric of his slacks, his eyes focused on the road. He bit the inside of his cheek to suppress the sudden tremor in his body. He was seconds away from stopping the car and sinking his teeth into the girl’s neck. She smelled like vodka and a subtle hint of her fruity perfume. He turned his head at her and she whimpered at the animalistic gaze of his now onyx eyes.

“Oh my God,” she mumbled, and suddenly her face turned into sharp features of Michael Langdon. Roman almost instantly hit the brakes.

“You look thirsty,” Langdon mocked. Thirsty, thirsty, thirsty, thirsty echoed in Roman’s head, and as he pressed his head into the back of his seat, Michael’s face got distorted into a smirking grimace. What the fuck? Beads of sweat covered Godfrey’s forehead.

“Get out!” He yelled and shut his eyes. When he opened them again, he saw a confused face of the girl who had instantly sobered up from his cry. She was looking at him with her big eyes resembling a fish, and at that moment all he wanted her to do was to leave him alone.

“What?” She asked, adjusting the straps of her dress to let him see a full view of her cleavage. He rolled his eyes.

“You heard me,” he hissed. “Get. The fuck. Out.” He did not care if she had to walk alone in the dark.

Roman drove his way home in silence, hungry and frustrated. He slammed the door of his car shut and stormed into a big mansion. Numerous thoughts were buzzing in his head like a swarm of bees. He headed straight to the shower, hoping that it could help him clear his mind.

He was too tired and tense to care about anything but the burning ache in his bones. Roman let out an inhuman cry when the streams of hot water hit his shoulder blades. He wished they could wash every cell of his disgusting being off the face of the earth. He hugged himself and dug his fingers into his skin as if he was going to rip it off. His plump bottom lip was trembling as he let his anger unwind. He didn’t want any of this, any of this life. He hit the wall with the fist and rested his forehead against the cool tile, sobbing brokenly. Fucking hell.

When he finally crawled out of the shower and reached for the towel to wrap it around his hips, he suddenly got glued to the spot. His nostrils flared. The waves of very powerful energy waged over him bringing the feeling of deja vu. His stomach did a flip at the thought that he was not alone in his mansion and what was even worse — his intuition knew the names of the intruders. Roman did not even care to dress up before he left the bathroom and made his way into his bedroom. His heart skipped a beat when he heard two low voices behind the closed door. No, it could not be true. He wrapped his fingers around the knob and turned his wrist to the left, pushing the door open with his hip.

Frankly speaking, now when he thinks about what happened that night, Roman is thankful that he did not kill Langdon and Y/N the second he saw them sitting on his bed. He remembers the shock and confusion. He thought he was hallucinating.

Langdon took his time to explain why they were in his bedroom while Roman was standing before them with his eyes wide open and his whole body unable to move. Y/N had been having the same dream over and over again: she was saving a young man from something she could not explain. The only thing she knew was that they needed to find him. Michael had never been into charity but he was ready to indulge the wish of the love of his life. Little had he known thar eventually she’d come to him and say that the stranger should have become a part of their relationship. Well, that was too much.

Michael did not understand the urge. Possessive by nature, he was not going to share her with anyone. “I’m not a fucking saint,” he shouted in her face while she was looking at him with her eyes full of tears.”And I’m definitely not a fool.” 

They had spent days fighting over that matter until she won. Langdon did not know what exactly made him change his mind: the sadnesses that flooded his lover’s mind and became unbearable for him to handle or the unknown force within himself.

“Let’s see who’s the one needing our help first,” he said through gritted teeth, secretly hoping that Y/N would drop that idea soon enough.

To find out that it was Roman Godfrey being the one in need of help was similar to being punched in the face. When he and Y/N were following the upir on his way home, Langdon tried to do his best to talk her into choosing someone else.

“He’s in pain,” she begged, turning her head at him, “don’t you feel it, Michael? I know you’re aware of how torturous his hunger is.”

“And why should I care?”

“Because I do,” she protectively crossed her arms, “and you care about me. He’s special, Michael. He needs help.”

“Fuck, remind me to ask my father why he chose a fucking angel as my eternal partner,” Langdon rolled his eyes and sped up the car.

He did not believe that any of them would ever turn this into a relationship. He was sure that Y/N would drop the idea as soon as she would see how fucked up Godfrey was. He refused to admit that at that moment jealousy was boiling in every fiber of his body.

When Roman started spitting the curses out, and the subtle hint of doubt sparked in Y/N’s eyes, Michael was celebrating his triumph. However, his content didn’t last. Y/N had this weird talent of persuading people, and eventually, both men fell victims to her charm.

Neither of them knew how to act. Michael couldn’t overcome the feeling of disdain he felt toward the younger boy and he was determined to treat him as such until he would prove that he was worthy of his respect.

On the other hand, Roman didn’t understand why she had to “win” anyone’s trust when it was Langdon and Y/N who had broken into his house and decided to make him “a proud member of their relationship”.

“You two,” he pointed his finger at them, “are fucking insane.”

“Don’t act like you haven’t done anything worse than this,” Michael scoffed, “I’m sure impregnating Letha was far less moral”

Those words nearly brought the entire venture to its end.

Roman realized that he really needed help, Langdon’s help, when the Antichrist had soothed his thirst for blood. Using his magic, Michael subsided Godfrey’s desire to kill and for the first time in what it seemed like forever, the upir could breathe.

Y/N made him believe that his kindhearted human nature was still within him. Of course, it took her months to persuade Roman, but the result was worth it. He desperately wanted to be good. All those sleepless nights he had been punishing himself for his victims were gone, and finally, he found someone who could turn him to the light. Well, technically they had found him.

Funny, how salvation came from the Antichrist and his lover. They moved from Roman treating the affair among the three of them as just sex to a deep, serious commitment.

It took Roman a lot of time to realize that he wasn’t alone anymore. The three of them took care of each other.

The turning point happened when Roman had another breakdown. He had been dealing with his hunger relatively good thanks to Michael and Y/N’s influence, but then he went on a business trip and just snapped. 

He rested his head in his hands, trying to keep breathing, but it felt like the air had suddenly got thicker. He rushed to a small fridge in his hotel room, looking for a bag of blood that he had stored in case of emergency, but the shelves were empty. He growled in frustration, his senses becoming more acute. His thirst, an obsession with blood, always put him in a weird, dizzy state where he could barely control himself. He didn’t feel like himself anymore. A white fog covered his eyes and enveloped his brain like a thick blanket. He couldn’t think straight.

“Heeeeelp!!” A loud, animalistic scream of a man he was holding in his arms, pulled him out of the trance. Godfrey opened his eyes and faced the dreadful look on the poor man’s face. He had no idea who it was and how he ended up there, in a dark alley far from anyone’s eyes. He tossed the man’s body aside like a useless puppet and looked at his hands covered in blood.

“What are you?” He snapped his head at the man who was on his hands and knees, looking terrified. Roman inhaled sharply, his body trembling as if he had a fever.

“You better fucking run,” he managed to bark. Panic rose inside of him like a tsunami, flooding his mind with a bitter aftertaste of fear and despair. He was scared of himself. He instinctively reached for the phone in the back pocket of his jeans and pressed one button of a speed dial. Please, pick up the phone, please, pick up the-

“Yes?” A familiar soothing baritone responded.

“Langdon, please...” Godfrey sobbed, feeling ashamed of his weakness. He fell to his knees against the dirty stone wall and squeezed his eyes tightly, but it didn’t prevent a couple of crystal tears from falling down his sharp cheekbones. “Help me, I’m begging you, Langdon.”

Michael did not need any explanation.

“Think of the place where you are at now,” when he spoke his voice was ringing with ice and calmness. Roman let out a sigh of relief. “I’ll come get you.”

“Okay,” he whispered and concentrated on the scenery he needed Michael to see.

Langdon was there in no time.

Something about Y/N kept Roman glued to her. Maybe this nagging feeling in his chest was aroused by the radiant warmth that surrounded her like a halo. “How does she even handle you, Langdon?” He once teased Michael.

The dynamic between her and the Antichrist was amusing as well. Roman did not like to admit it but he had been fascinated by Michael’s protectiveness over her since that time when he met them at the club. He thought that such a delicate flower as Y/N deserved nothing but the most careful guidance.

“Is she your little girl?” He asked, folding his hands over his chest and watching Y/N make her way toward Langdon and taking her seat on his lap, wrapping her arms around Michael’s shoulder.

“She’s my girl,” the blonde man answered, his palm cupping her bum and gently squeezing through a flimsy fabric of her dress, “but she’s not little. She does need me to take control when we’re intimate, but it’s never about age regression.”

Dominant by nature, Roman wanted to take care of the gorgeous girl, sitting on Michael’s lap, too. He missed the moment when he had started dreaming about her calling him daddy and letting him touch her wherever he wanted. He desired to learn every inch of her body because Michael seemed to had known where to touch, pet, and lick in order to turn her into a pliant mess.

She looked angelic in her pink and white set, her body splayed out on the expensive sheets, hair tossed around her head as Michael worked his tongue between her parted thighs (her panties were pulled aside), making her tug on his blonde locks and moan his name out loud.

“You need to earn the privilege to make her feel this good, puppy,” Langdon said, using the back of his palm to wipe Y/N’s cum off his full, glistening lips, looking extremely pleased with himself.

And Roman did. He was a bit rougher than Michael at times due to his impatience and youthful maximalism which worked perfectly in tandem with Langdon’s soft dominance. Secretly, he thrived off of bossing Roman around and telling him what to do. He loved holding the younger boy by his neck and burying his face between Y/N’s legs, making him feast on her pussy.

“Good boy,” Michael mused, letting go off of his grip. Roman was panting heavily when he pulled away from her throbbing core. He inhaled sharply and his body jolted forward back to her center when Langdon slid his hands down the younger boy’s torso, encouraging him to continue.

Godfrey found himself addicted to this romance. The obvious competition for Y/N’s attention was making his blood boil but it was different from what his hunger had been making him feel. Ardor electrified every sense in his body and made him feel alive.

She indulged his panty kink like nobody else. Y/N always wore the pretties undergarments, and to pull her panties down and off her legs with his teeth was Roman’s favorite thing to do. He loved dragging the lacy piece down while looking her in the eyes, making her watch his every move. She looked the prettiest when lying against Michael’s chest, while the blonde man was playing with her nipples, caressing them with featherlight touches.

Roman often found himself in a reverse position: blindfolded and gagged with her lacy thong. “Keep riding him, doll,” he moaned at Michael’s command and the increased pace of Y/N’s hips moving in sync with his hammering heartbeat.  

Thanks to Michael and his training, Roman became more patient and grew to enjoy edging their girl for hours. He and Michael would have her on her back, hands and legs bound to the bed and with a vibrator pressed against her clit. She looked ethereal, all desperate for his and Langdon’s cocks. The delicious stretch that both cocks made her feel was indescribable. She felt so, so full and worked up, but most importantly — she felt safe and taken care of.

Sometimes, as a part of her punishment, they would not let her cum for days. Prohibited to touch herself, she was suffering from the overwhelming arousal flooding her body. She’d try to clench her thighs, to rub herself against the armrests of Michael’s chair, to hump her pillow, but it seemed like the two men always knew what she was up to. They were always there to hush her and remind that if she continued “acting like a bratty slut” they’d have to extend the period of punishment. Godfrey and Langdon knew what buttons to push. One day when she was on her third day of edging, Roman came up to her when she was washing the dishes and slowly started peppering her neck with kisses. Being impossibly horny, she instantly leaned into his touch, hoping that her punishment was over. He fingered her until she turned into a whimpering, pleading mess, begging his to free his cock that she could feel against her ass from the confines of his slacks and fuck her right there on the kitchen counter. But the upir only laughed and pulled his hand out of her panties, leaving her on the verge of tears, wanting more.

Langdon loved eating her from behind while she was on her knees before Roman and sucking his cock, letting the mix of his precum and her saliva drip down her chin and breasts. She would cup the two mounds in her palms and smear the liquid all over her nipples, twisting and rolling them between her fingers. She could feel Michael’s hair brushing over her thighs every time he brought his mouth to her center to bury his tongue into her heat.

The men loved spoiling their girl. Her closet was full of the most beautiful designer dresses and the prettiest underwear. Roman adored when she put on a little show for them every time they’d buy something for her.

“Sit back and enjoy, daddies,” she’d tell them, and Michael and Roman would wait for her to come out of the bathroom in the new see-through set adorned with ruffles and pearls that matched her angelic personality but also showed off her spicy, devilish side. They nearly choked on their whiskey when she took a couple of elegant strides toward them and bent over to demonstrate how deliciously the sheer fabric of the panties hugged her bum, a purple jewel of a butt plug poking through the lace.

Michael’s blood ritual was something Roman always looked forward to. The first time he witnessed it, the younger boy thought he was going to lose his mind from how erotic it looked. That was when he tasted Langdon’s blood. His silver tongue glided over the Antichrist’s smooth, porcelain skin, leaving burning imprints in its wake. Michael’s chanting in Latin was mixing with the sound of Y/N’s moans and the obscene slapping of  Langdon’s flesh against her thighs. The men’s eyes were as dark as cosmos, illuminated by the light radiating from the candles that were put in a circle around their entwined bodies. There were no green and blue, only dark, deep emptiness of the supernatural creatures.

Michael know what big stress the ritual was for Y/N, thus he always made sure to take care of her afterwards, and Roman was always there to help. They’d carry her upstairs and run her a bath.

Speaking of bathing together, Godfrey loved when she rode him and Michael in the tub. The used a water-based lube, so it would not be uncomfortable for all of them. Plus, doing anal in the tub where everything was nice and clean was a lot easier. Roman adored the view of her breasts bouncing before his face as she kept moving on his length up and down, her wet hair clinging to her face.

Aftercare was the most important thing after making Y/N cum, of course. Especially if sex was rougher than usual. Sometimes the mood would strike for forceful face fucking, slaps across her tender cheeks and a cum shot all over her pretty face, but Roman and Michael always made sure to tell her how good she was for them.

“We’re so proud of you,” Langdon whispered against her cum-stained lips, and she smiled so wide, feeling happy and satisfied with how she had taken him and Roman. Every inch of her body was sore, muscles burned from overstimulation, but the pleasure that had come beforehand was worth it. She could still feel the mix of Michael’s and Roman’s cum seeping out of her, so she indulged the temptation to snake her hand between her legs to collect the pearly essence and lick it all clean.

When it was getting darker the following scene was very common for their mansion: Y/N was curled up on Roman’s lap while he was absentmindedly playing with her hair, threading his fingers through the soft strands. Michael usually worked till his eyes would get tired, so after a while, Godfrey and Y/N came up with an idea of how to get the Antichrist’s attention. Roman wouldn’t take his eyes off the tv as he slowly dragged his palm down her body and rested it on her thigh, his fingers barely swiping over the hem of her pj shorts. She looked up at him and shifted a bit, pressing her body against his torso. Roman toyed with a little bow on her waistband and slightly pulled the ribbon to untie it and slip his fingers under it, frowning when he touched the fabric of her panties. He looked down at her and mouthed “Why are you wearing them?” She shrugged and smiled, her breath was already uneven and heavy. She had to bite her knuckles to suppress a needy whimper threatening to fall from her lips. She wriggled her bum and parted her legs, letting Roman properly touch her. He cupped her pussy in his palm, outstretching the fabric of her already wet panties and shorts, starting to massaging her clit in slow, lazy circles.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” Michael said in a sing-song tone, making Y/N nearly jump out of her skin. She looked at him with her eyes wide open and instinctively covered Godfrey’s hand between her thighs with her palm.

“Get back to work, Michael,” Roman mewled, ignoring Y/N’s attempts to close her legs. He smeared her arousal all over her folds, earning a loud gasp from her.

“It’s hard to concentrate when I can fucking smell her,” Michael drawled, gripping on the pen with such force that he nearly broke it.

So yeah, Roman’s plan always worked.

They loved traveling together. Eating fresh croissants in France, tasting every sort of pizza in Italy, buying the best vine in Spain, and walking down the narrow street in Monaco. Even though Roman and Michael were busy they always found time to take their girl, who looked good in white summer dresses, with her skin glowing and lips dripping with juices of ripe fruits, somewhere nice. 

tagging those who expressed their interest in this pairing: @divinelangdon @littledemondani @ms-mead @emmyrosee @mega-combusken @lvngdvns @wroteclassicaly @michaelsrighthand @hecohansen31 @1-800-bitchcraft @saturngirlz @desidia-1 @langdonsdemon @kaigitana @peachesandfern @livanka @lovelylangdonx

[missmalice202]

Designing Your Melody: Chapter 13 - Kisses

Chapter 01 - Chapter 12

“Viperion, are you humming right now?” Carapace asked. “You do realize we’re in the middle of a boss fight, right?”

“Leave the boy alone, Carapace. It’s obvious something good happened to him for him to be in such a good mood.” Rena Rouge scolded. Viperion chuckled at how fiercely she’d defended him, even though it didn’t bother him at all to be called out like that in the clan chat.

“Really? Care to share with the rest of the class?” Ladybug teased. She was a little disappointed that his humming had stopped, though. It made her smile to hear him unconsciously expressing his pleasure. He had an excellent humming voice. Is that even a thing? Or is it just a singing voice? Regardless, she enjoyed listening to him regardless of what kind of sound he was making. The smooth tone of his voice did wonderful things to her nerves and gave flight to the butterflies in her stomach.

“Well,” he said, hesitating. “I found her, guys.” He felt a little weird mentioning Marinette around Ladybug. She hadn’t been online when he had initially discussed his little problem regarding the hard-to-find designer, and now he was wondering if he shouldn’t have just kept it to himself. He and Ladybug had been growing closer over the past few months and it didn’t feel right talking about another girl when she was listening. But he was happy that he had found her and wanted to talk about it to his friends.

“You seriously found her?” Chat Noir asked. “Congrats! I’m glad it worked out for you.”

Carapace began giggling into his microphone, trying hard to hold back his laughter but failing miserably in the end.

“Hey, are you okay?” Chat’s voice sounded confused. What was so funny about Viperion finding the girl he’d been searching for? Chat was happy that his friend would finally be able to talk to her about her design. Plus, it was really sweet that he’d been so affected by her that he kept hearing her song in his head. He wasn’t really sure what that meant exactly, but Viperion obviously couldn’t forget about the girl… A feeling he knew all too well.

“Hold on a second,” Rena said. “Who is ‘her’?” She knew that her friend had a minor fascination with their reptilian clan mate, but if he was off the market, that would make things difficult for her to ship them together. She’d been trying for weeks to get Nino to tell her who he was, but her boyfriend was even harder to crack than his namesake.

“I first mentioned her to the guys about a month ago. You and Ladybug weren’t on that night, so I guess they didn’t tell you about it, huh?”

“No,” She replied through clenched teeth. “Carapace definitely did not mention that you were looking for some random girl.”

Carapace’s nervous chuckle echoed in their headsets. He was sure that his girlfriend would give him hell for not telling her about it later.

“Anyway, I’ve been looking for someone for a while now and I finally found her the other day.”

“That’s awesome, Viperion,” Chat cheered. He was a sucker for happy endings, especially since his own life felt like such a tragedy.

“Oh, Chat, if you only knew…” Carapace’s cryptic response confused everybody, but he quickly changed the subject before they could ask him about it. “So, are you going to see her again?”

“Yeah, we’re going to get together again later this week,” he replied, his anticipation palpable for them to hear.

“Aw, that’s great,” Chat cooed. “Good luck, buddy.”

A loud smack filtered through their headsets. Unbeknownst to the other listeners, Nino had slapped his forehead in exasperation at how completely clueless his friends were. Seriously, it was too much for him to take sometimes.

“That’s…awesome, Viperion. It’s just…awesome. If you’re so interested in her, she must be just…awesome.” Ladybug’s voice was stilted and they all could tell that something had upset their friend.

“Girl, you okay?” Rena had hoped that she wouldn’t be upset by this development, but it looked like it was inevitable. She sighed, knowing that she’d be doing damage control soon.

“Yeah, Rena, I’m awesome. I just remembered that I had this…thing I had to do so I’m gonna log off. I’ll talk to you later.”

With that, her avatar disappeared, indicating that she was now offline.

Viperion was concerned. Ladybug usually wasn’t the type of player to quit in the middle of battle, especially a boss battle. It was apparent that something had bothered her about the direction their conversation had taken. Maybe she was disappointed that he had been talking about stuff that had happened in the real world, something she was adamant about keeping separate from gaming. He felt guilty for driving her away. “Was it something I said?” he asked his friends.

“Dude,” Carapace said seriously, “you have no idea…”

-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-

It’s been almost a week since the fashion show and Luka’s patience was finally paying off.

Finally, after months of being stuck in the middle of the tug-of-war game between Mr. Roth and Jagged Stone, he’s been set free.

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t mind being forced to come to the studio day after day to play for his idol, but the futility of the exercise and the fact that he had something else he would much rather be doing was enough to make the normally patient man quite irritable. His sister had even commented that he seemed to be on edge lately and wondered what the cause for it was.

But now, thank god, Vivica was back from her maternity leave and ready to take his place as Jagged’s guitarist. Luka didn’t mind being a temporary replacement. After all, he had no grand ambitions of being a rock star or anything. He just loved to play, even if it was playing someone else’s music.

Though, considering everything he and Jagged had worked on had been scrapped, it wasn’t as if he’d be given any sort of credit for the time he put in at the studio.

He didn’t let that bother him. He knew that if Jagged needed him again, he’d be there to play for him, no matter how frustrating the circumstances were.

The silver lining to the whole situation was that now he was free to pursue his current interest: a Miss Marinette DuPain-Cheng.

Resting his bike against the side of the bakery, he looked up at the storefront with a barely suppressed smile gracing his face. He’d been looking forward to seeing her again. He’d refrained from texting her until he would be able to see her for his fitting, even though every fiber of his being wanted to reach out to her.

Adjusting the acoustic guitar strapped to his back, he entered the shop where he was immediately comforted by the warm ambiance of the bakery. Sabine was behind the counter, as always. When she looked up at the bell ringing and saw him, she greeted him with a smile as sweet at the macaroons she was boxing up for a customer.

“Luka! Welcome back, sweetie. We haven’t seen you in a couple of days and I was starting to worry about you.”

He grinned down at the tiny Asian woman. Despite his true motive for frequenting the bakery in the past, he honestly had missed the gentle woman. However, he’d never admit to her that he’d actually been coming to the bakery so often in an attempt to track down her daughter. He didn’t think that admission would go over so well. Especially since he’d heard about how fiercely protective Tom DuPain was of his only daughter.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been by lately. Work has been keeping me busy, unfortunately.” He walked up to the counter. “But now I’ve got some time to spare, so I came to visit.”

She laughed. “Don’t bother trying to suck up to me. I know you’re here to see Marinette. She told me you’d found one of her designs and wanted her to make it for you.”

His eyebrows raised. Guess he was busted. “She told you about that, huh?”

She nodded. “Yes, she did, dear. I’m just surprised that you were able to find her based only on one of her drawings.”

He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I actually have you to thank. I made the connection when I delivered that fabric to her room. I saw her designs on the wall and I recognized her signature.”

“Ah,” she said knowingly. “So that’s why you became such a regular customer.” Her usually cheerful face fell into a disappointed frown. “And here I thought you were coming for my pastries.”

Luka raised his hands in surrender. “I did come for your pastries. Honestly. They’re the best in the city! I would have come even if Marinette wasn’t here.” He spoke quickly, hoping to avoid offending the petite woman.

Taking pity on the poor boy, she started to laugh. “Relax, sweetie. I know.” She nodded her head toward the stairs that led to their apartment. “Head on up. She’s expecting you.”

Relieved that Mrs. Cheng didn’t hold his true motive for all his visits to the bakery against him, he climbed up the multiple staircases to Marinette’s space.

Upon opening her trap door, he could see that she was definitely not expecting his arrival.

Hunched over her desk, she looked almost possessed by whatever it was she was working on in her notebook. Her hair is pulled back in a messy bun and there’s a spare pencil tucked behind her ear. There’s another pencil between her clenched teeth as her almost crazed eyes scanned the page. With a growl, she grabbed a white eraser and began to furiously attack the paper with it. With a frustrated growl, she tossed the eraser aside, she used the pencil between her teeth to continue working.

It was obvious to Luka that she hadn’t heard the thump of the trap door opening, so rather than interrupt her work, he simply walked over to her pink chaise lounge and made himself comfortable. She was so interesting to watch when she was focused on a task. He could see her energy barely contained in her movements. Her hand jerked and swept across the paper.

Inspired by the movements her pencil made as she created her own form of beauty, he brought his guitar around and began to quietly play. Tempo fast, notes discordant, he created a melody to accompany the frantic dance of her hand.

Minutes pass before Marinette registered the music playing at the edge of her senses. Glancing toward the source, she was shocked to see Luka sitting with his legs folded under him to support the guitar he was playing.

With a squeak, she began to apologize. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

He didn’t even look at her as he continued to play, transitioning from her frantic song, to a slower melody, its gentle chords slowing her heartbeat and easing her tension. “It’s okay. I understand what it is to be taken over by inspiration. To have the world around you fall away and nothing else exists but what you’re creating.”

Her shoulders relaxed. Of course, he would get it. Feeling much more relaxed and less embarrassed at being caught in the midst of a designing storm, she released the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. “Thanks for your understanding. Just give me a minute to get this cleaned up and we can get started getting your measurements.”

She quickly gathered the papers scattered around her desk and stuffed them haphazardly in a folder.

“There’s no rush.” He looked up at her then, eyes piercing through his hair. “I like watching you work. The way your hand flies over the page as your drawing, it’s almost like a dance.” He smiled softly at her blank expression. “I was just providing some music for you to dance to.”

Marinette’s mind went blank as she stared dumbly at the musician.

“Yes., well, yeah…” She didn’t know what to say to that. What do you say to something like that? How do you respond to something so beautiful? “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Kissing any chance of this not being an embarrassing experience for both of them goodbye, she gestured to the stool in the middle of the room for him to climb on so she could take his measurements.

‘Oh god, what have I gotten myself into?’ she asked herself once more.

-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-

Chapter 14

*Sorry for the delay. I wasn't certain on where I wanted the story to go from here, but I finally figured it out. My original plan was to have 29 chapters to this story, to go along with the 29 days of Lukanette February prompts. Now, I'm not sure if I want to drag it out for that long. But I DO know that there will be at least a few more chapters to this. There's a lot of things I need to resolve before I can say "and they lived happily ever after" or whatever.

Special thanks to @novicevoice, @skatsh18, @macaknight, and @unabashedbookworm for your comments. I’m glad you all like this story I’ve come up with. Your kind words are very much appreciated <3

Until next time, my lovelies XOXO*

@write-for-your-life2

[beyondconfessor]

The Infernal Contract [12/16]

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Lilith/Zelda Spellman

Summary: "And what does Faustus think of you?" she asked, snapping forward and grabbing Zelda's right wrist. "No, better yet, why don't you tell me what you think of him, of how high you must regard him to remove the very protection I provided."

N.B.: Also posted on AO3

Faustus delivered a modified version of his tenets, advising the school assembly with everything happening, a reversion to the traditional ways would be the only way to appease the Dark Lord.

It was a lie, but one Zelda wasn't above standing beside at this stage. There was little else she could do, and allowing some of his tenets to pass at least pacified Faustus for the moment, though they were like to stir complaints within the coven.

Witches were to pursue herbalism and other forms of healing magic before any extracurricular studies––warlocks, of course, could pursue whatever magic they desired. The other doctrines similarly followed, requesting witches to dress and act accordingly in the so-called image of Lilith, where warlocks should see their reflection in the Dark Lord.

Zelda's most considerable annoyance was that Faustus depiction of Lilith was of an otherwise helpless woman, capable of only the healing arts (as the Satanic Bible mentioned her magic explicitly only in service of Lucifer but failed to pick up the subtext between those moments). Intimately knowing the raw power that Lilith weld, especially with the higher forms of the Dark Arts, Zelda despised the comparison drawn of a woman who acutely mirrored the False God's Eve rather than that of a true Goddess capable of creating an exorcism that a witch could perform.

But Zelda knew when to bite her tongue. She had agreed to stand by and uphold the new doctrine fairly.

She may criticise it behind closed doors, maybe even lead her students to think about the Satanic Bible critically. Still, she would not openly defy the Anti-Pope. With everything going on, it would only create another problem, and she already had a few piling up.

As it was, those other problems were becoming the forefront thoughts in her mind, eclipsing that of the coven and the school. The prophecy was the most significant of her concerns, to the point she was now dreaming of reading the passage.

Zelda had gone over it a dozen times, each word to the context of each other. Prophecies were notoriously tricky. It was magic that stretched back to the early stages of most civilisations, and an imprecise one at that. Fortune-telling, tarot readings, prophecies, divination, even haruspicy were rarely used, given that their readings were often inaccurate and held a dozen vague meanings. It was why the tale of Oedipus was often a parable told to young witches who tried to peek into their future.

As it was, Mr Scratch had mentioned another prophecy in the Greendale Mines. It seemed a good idea to explore the prophecy from all angles, including one that used imagery instead of words, which was how Zelda ended up standing before the mines in the late hours of the evening, long after Faustus had retired to his room.

She stood before the mine shaft, listening as the wind howled through its tunnels. It had long been rumoured by mortals and witches alike that the mine shafts reached to the very gates of Hell. Standing here, Zelda could feel the magic crackle in the air, a magnetic draw pulling at her magic and knew why the witches had dug into the mines. It was almost like a siren song, singing out to her.

Lighting a cigarette, Zelda contemplated her strategy. She could try to summon the blasted prophecy, but it was likely that protective magic would envelop it. How the mortal children had found it, Zelda had no idea, but predictions had a way of hiding themselves until it was nearly too late to prevent it from occurring.

No, it seemed she would have to enter the mines—something she previously had no interest or plan in doing so before this evening.

"I wondered how long it would take you."

Zelda turned on her heel, looking to face Lilith. The woman stood on the outskirts of the trees, surrounded by shadows. It made the paleness of her face in the moonlight starker in contrast to her hair and clothes.

"What are you doing here?" Zelda asked, dropping her cigarette to the ground and snuffing it out before the woman had a chance to snatch it from her.

"The same thing you are, I imagine."

"I find it unlikely that we managed to cross paths here, of all places."

"Well, perhaps my arrival is not coincidental," Lilith admitted as she began walking towards her until they were side-by-side looking at the entrance to the mines. "You tripped my spell," she said and then pointed to a piece of silver string, and a bell that hung from a tree branch, likely set to summon Lilith should any person walk underneath. Though as Zelda squinted at the charm, she noticed that a single strand of hair had been tied to it, binding it to a specific person.

"Honestly," Zelda scoffed. "And just how did you know that I would come here?"

Lilith made a shrug, playing an attempt at innocence. "You mentioned another prophecy, so naturally I derived you'd eventually end up here."

"I certainly did not!"

"Oops. Then Sabrina must have mentioned it," Lilith said, her eyes flashing in mischievous amusement. Zelda looked away, glaring at the mines as she found herself regretting the fallen cigarette. She should have known that Sabrina would eventually make her way to her dearly favourite teacher and confess every secret.

Zelda would have done well to curse the memories of all the children, but it seemed that it was too late now. "Have you seen it?" she asked.

"I have. Would you like me to show you?"

Zelda wondered if there was any point. If Lilith had seen it, then there was little to be provided from herself viewing it. And yet, she knew it would haunt her if she refused. "I would."

"So be it," Lilith said before walking into the mines. She was enveloped by shadows, disappearing from all of Zelda's senses until a warm, golden light lit up the opening of the mines as she held up a lantern. Turning to face out of the mine-shaft, Lilith looked to Zelda and waited for her to follow.

"So be it," Zelda echoed. Exhaustion weighed on her shoulders as she slipped into the darkness of the mines.

There was a wet, damp smell to the tunnels and the only sound that filled the space was that of their heels clicking on the stone ground. Her shoes perhaps weren't the best footwear, but she had a steady-foot charm on all of her heels to prevent missteps (after all, a witch shouldn't stumble).

But the quiet was stifling. A considerable unease continued between them as Zelda wondered to their previous tryst and the way Lilith had looked at her when she held the book of prophecy.

Lilith had been furious, and then her eyes had looked to Zelda as if she'd discovered something quite fascinating. It weighed on Zelda's mind and sparked a strange yearning she couldn't allow herself to poke at (and yet did, like a child picking at a wound).

"Faustus has released a new set of tenets," she advised.

"Of course he has," Lilith responded. "And I take these tenets are to restrict the witches further from their ambitions to power?"

"Yes. With absolutely no consultation from the Dark Lord."

"Well, the Dark Lord is rather busy," Lilith said, there was a weariness to her voice as she said it, though there was a lazy attempted to mask it with irony.

"With Sabrina?" Zelda asked, but Lilith didn't respond.

No further words passed between them and Zelda wondered if the woman was deliberately trying to be dramatic with the silence, or if she genuinely had no biting comments to make.

Perhaps she was preparing them for some big reveal.

The tunnels twisted and sunk, and as they did, Zelda felt the pull of her magic, leading to her where she could only presume the Gates of Hell resided. Zelda's mother once spoke about how their grandmother had been digging through the hills with other local witches, seeking salvation in their Lord, until the Von Kunkle's had struck them down, causing the remaining coven to flee throughout the forest.

The mortals now owned the mines, but the magic sang out.

Lilith didn't lead her to where the magic pulled. Instead, she took a sharp turn down a shaft labelled marked with the number thirteen, and crept down a steady slope until they came to a crevice.

There she held up the lantern for Zelda to see.

"Here's your prophecy," Lilith said, with a nonchalant gesture. Zelda squinted in the dim light and looked over the artwork.

Wax candles stood scattered around the altar, their wicks snuffed, but Zelda knew they were not ordinary candles. With a snap of her fingers, the candles alit, casting warm light against the stonework (the flicker of power warming her as it did).

She looked over the artwork and felt her unease grow. From the immediate artwork, Zelda already knew it wasn't a happy prophecy.

She studied the iconography, glancing across the apparent symbolism. The picture of Sabrina was centred and definite with the crown of thorns, with little to doubt her likeness. The door represented Hell, the hanging tree representing Greendale, and as such the mortal realm. There were demons against either side, a corrupted version of cherubs, representing their guardianship of Sabrina and therefore her status as godhood (or at the very least Queen).

Zelda pulled back and crossed her arms. Likely the mosaic was not a separate prophecy, but a visual depiction of the footnote found by Mr Scratch. Which brought to question, why was the prediction a footnote?

"Someone wanted this hidden," she stated, glancing to Lilith.

"And someone wanted it found," Lilith responded. "I think we can both conclude as to who."

Zelda initial instinct was to raise suspicion against the woman herself, but it didn't marry up with her hesitation in the previous night. Lilith's fear and anger had been absolute before she attempted to conceal it with lust, and there was nothing to gain by her with Sabrina rising to the status of Queen.

Sabrina was to become something more significant, and this no less blindsided Lilith than any of them, it seemed.

Reaching out, she touched over the tiled pieces. There was a blue halo around Sabrina's head, the pigment created from crushed lapis lazuli.

"Mortals made this," Zelda said.

"What makes you think that?"

"A witch wouldn't have dyed and cut these tiles by hand," she touched over the jagged edges. There was frenzied energy to the creation as if it had compelled its artist to finish it. Drawing away, she pulled her hand back and dusted her fingers from the dirt that had accumulated over the stonework. It wasn't enchanted, but she could feel the compulsion coming from the prophecy. "And a witch would have made it much gaudier."

"I see," Lilith whispered, Zelda looked to her, catching the expression freezing as stared into the artwork, a frustration pressing in her brow before it smoothed to a neutral projection.

"What is it?" she asked.

Lilith turned and faced her, despite the composure, her eyes seemed alight with fury. "Why would a mortal depict a halo?"

"To represent holiness, her duality between mortal and..." Zelda trailed off, swallowing as she realised.

"And celestial," Lilith finished with a sharp, mirthless grin. "Perhaps the Dark Lord does not plan to marry her after all. Though I wouldn't put that past Him."

Zelda's heart sunk in her chest with the spoken revelation. Her niece, the girl she'd raised from a baby, was not her blood. "A Morningstar?" she whispered as if the Dark Lord might be in earshot (He might just be, she realised). "Surely not, she looked so much like Edward as a child."

"The Dark Lord has been known to possess men and enter their wives beds. Perhaps he obtained an offspring out of it this time."

Zelda shook her head, feeling her crossed arms tighten. Sabrina was a Spellman. She'd raised her from diapers to teens. Were she the Devil's daughter, there would have been some omen of it before her Dark Baptism, some great warning to Zelda.

Or perhaps she'd been blind to them all.

"What do we do?" Zelda asked, feeling the words slip out, a thousand smaller questions seemed to fill her mind, the fear of which beginning to grow massive and overwhelming in her head. Was she to tell Sabrina now? What did this mean for the Spellmans? Did she tell Ambrose and Hilda? Was the apocalypse to rise? Why hadn't Edward-

"What do you mean 'what do we do'? We follow the Dark Lord's plan," Lilith hissed. "If this is His will so be it."

Zelda shot her a look, watching the woman's facade splinter with her scrutiny. Lilith was as unsettled as she was. As fearful for what this meant for them both. "Is this what you want?"

Lilith hesitated, her eyes staring at the mosaic. "It doesn't matter what I want."

"Doesn't it?" Zelda asked. "Isn't this meant to be promised to you?"

"And what do you know of what was promised?" Lilith asked as she schooled her features, all doubts erasing from her face as if she was the very model of loyalty and devotion. "The Dark Lord grants us all that we deserve, and we are at His mercy for it. You'd be wise to heed to His will."

"Isn't Hell to be yours, since you left the Garden and found Him? Is that not what you were promised for servitude?" Zelda pushed and watched the carefully placed mask fracture further. Depths of desire sunk in Lilith's eyes, as if the very crown of Hell sat before her. "You know that this means He won't give it to you. He never planned to."

"And pray, tell how you could know of the Dark Lord's will? Of my relationship with Him?" Lilith inquired with a caustic tongue. "You're just some witch who's first marriage soured before she finished her vows."

Zelda flinched at the venom, and before she could think better of it, she was snarling back, "At least I got my crown, you'll only ever be a handmaiden to Him."

Lilith grinned at her, but there was no amusement in her eyes. Only a sharp coldness that reminded Zelda that she was not just speaking with any witch. "And what does Faustus think of you?" she asked, snapping forward and grabbing Zelda's right wrist. "No, better yet, why don't you tell me what you think of him, of how high you must regard him to remove the very protection I provided."

Zelda tried to tug her hand out of Lilith's grip, only to feel the grip tighten as she was pulled forward towards the woman, barely a breath away.

"It was stolen," Zelda hissed. "I wouldn't have––" but she stopped herself from admitting any further. She could feel her chest tightening, a fear that she said too much to the woman already.

A strange look passed over Lilith's face, a hunger as she touched over the bare finger. "Do you love him?"

"No, I don't love him."

"Do you wish he was me?"

Zelda pressed her lips shut, refusing to answer such a question (and admit the truth). But the answer must have been as apparent as the moon in a cloudless night because Lilith eyes filled with mirth and then laughter was rupturing from between the red lips. "Oh, I see."

"You certainly do not!" Zelda said, finally snapping her hand away before her heels caught against a loose stone and tripped her backwards. She hit the wall of the tunnel. Her head thudded against the rock, stunning her long enough for Lilith to press against her.

Hissing from the pain, Zelda pushed herself to stand taller and not allow the intimidation to affect her as she looked into the woman's eyes (appearing silver in the dim lighting) and felt her anger ease, waiting for the next moment. She wanted to slap her, push her away with the same overwhelming desire to kiss her and draw her close against herself.

Instead, she remained frozen in place.

"You desire me, Zelda Spellman. I think you might even care for me."

Zelda's body shivered at the way Lilith said her name, but the anger returned at the accurate presumptions placed forward. "You may think quite highly of yourself, but outside of our tryst, I barely think of you at all," she lied.

"Not at all?"

"Not the slightest," Zelda sneered, feeling the woman's hands slide over her waist and down her hips.

"Not even in the sleepless nights?" Lilith asked as she leant forward. "When you're biting your tongue to hold back your gasps, as you lie in the guest room of your own home?"

Zelda felt the lips graze close to hers, the hands gripping at her hips in anticipation. "Are you spying on me, Lilith?"

"No," Lilith said, "But you're adjurations have a way of finding me."  

"I have spoken of no such thing," Zelda hissed, and then the woman's lips had moved to her ear, and Lilith's body was pressing against her. She heard her draw a slow intake of breath, the fingers curling against the material of Zelda's clothes.

And then Lilith keened in her ear, as if on the very edge of arousal.

Zelda felt her body still; her eyes flutter shut as the moan had more of an effect on her than it should, causing a sudden heat to glow warm in her belly.

But the exhibition didn't cease there. Lilith's lips touched over cheek before she began to repeat verbatim the very abjurations Zelda had solely whispered to the shadows of her room, between her sheets.

A part of her had known that it might reach her ears. After all, their contract had begun with a wishfully spoken prayer. If she was honest with herself, perhaps she'd even hoped that they would.

And yet to hear them. Feel the words in the exhale of breath was an entirely different thing. Zelda felt herself swallow thickly, her own hands turning to fists at her side as she tried to prevent herself from grabbing at the woman.

Lilith's gasps were hot in her ear, the words broken-up by sharp pants and moans meant to imitate her own, but if Lilith intended to mock her, they had an adverse reaction.

As Zelda felt Lilith begin to hitch up her dress, she turned her head, having enough of the performance. She tilted forward and caught the woman's lips, enjoying how Lilith anticipated it, snagging her tongue between her teeth, before letting it go with a laugh.

There was a mania about it as if Lilith was unravelling before her, eager to distract and pretend that this was just another tryst as she slid Zelda's underwear down her thighs and kissed her again with feverish temperament. Zelda responded in kind because the world was going to end, but it hadn't yet, and this might be their last moment together before it all fell apart.

The truth was that Sabrina was to be snatched away, and they were to return to their respected men, loyal and obedient with these changes. They had lost everything they'd built and worked towards. More than that, a deeper part of Zelda reminded her that this would be the end of them both. Their relationship could not continue if the new world order occurred. Lilith was to be Lucifer's handmaiden, and Zelda was to be Faustus' wife. They would become ships in the night.

Zelda tugged at Lilith's dress, undoing the zipper and slipping it down the woman's body before she drew her close again.

Her skin was warm against her own. If she held her close enough, it felt like time would stretch. That there was no home to return to, no encroaching deadlines, no prophecies of Nephilim children.

There was only the here and now. Only Lilith.

And yet her heart felt like it was breaking.

It ached to know that everything that had seemed so close in grasp was now disappearing from her sights, that Faustus would rule with an iron fist, squeezing every witch of their free will as the Dark Lord turned a blind eye to mould Sabrina into his Queen.

The Spellman family would be burned, Leticia and Prudence would be used and discarded at will, and Judas would be shaped into the perfect son with no mind of his own.

Where was Lilith to go?

Lilith nipped at her throat, snapping her back into the moment. In the dimness of the mines, she could see the woman's glare, demanding her attention.

She kissed at the woman's shoulder, slipping her hand under the lace underwear and touching over Liliths slit as she was fucked in return. The sex was frenziedness, building in a desperate need to touch and be touched and forget everything else.

And with it, Zelda wondered if the Dark Lord touched Lilith with the intent to admire and worship, or if He just consumed until there was nothing of Lilith left but a hollow version of herself?

Was that her path too, with Faustus, to bend until she snapped?

Zelda felt her anger grow again, a fury building in her as Lilith's mouth kissed down her throat.

"It matters," Zelda told her. "It matters what you want."

Lilith paused, pulling away to look at her in the darkness. "Zelda-" she whispered, the name purring as a warning to remind her of just how close to Hell they were.

"It matters to me," she urged. "Lilith, please, whatever you think of this, of me and everything else. It matters. Whatever it is that you want, I swear it, I'll abide by your will, even if it's to strike––"

Lilith kissed her mouth, hard and bruising to silence her. If the Dark Lord heard her, understood what she was proposing, they would be eviscerated for their seditious remarks. Perhaps it had been foolish for her to say it, but she wanted (needed) Lilith to know that they were more than the roles they played.

Lilith's hand came to her throat, wrapping around it tight enough that Zelda could barely draw her breath as she felt the woman's mouth move away from hers.

Then, very quietly, Lilith whispered, "I don't want your obedience, Zelda. It would ruin you. Do you understand?"

The hand eased, and as Zelda drew in a breath, she asked, "And what of your ruination?"

Lilith smiled in the dark. "It happened long ago." Zelda went to argue, only for Lilith's fingers to touch against her lips. "Forget your words, and be mine for this moment. Then we can separate to our own lives."

Zelda swallowed, understanding the subtext. Despite how it ached in her chest, this was to be their last time together.

Lilith's hand slipped under her jaw and tilted her head as she pressed forward and kissed her again. It was sweet, gentle, and then it grew with a passion, not unlike that evening in the moonlight that seemed so long ago. A yearning build in her chest, and all Zelda wanted was Lilith.

Their moments together were ending, and Zelda wished she could translate the growing need inside of into words, but it was all she could to do to kiss and not drown in the woman's touch. As Lilith kissed her, Zelda followed, stroking over the woman's sex in an attempt to appease her. It wasn't obedience she offered but something else. Something sacrilegious.

It wasn't enough. Zelda pulled away and dropped to her knees, grabbing Lillith's hips and tugging her to her mouth as she tore the lace down her legs.

"Zelda," Lilith coaxed, fingers drawing through her hair. The way she said her name was like a sigh, summoning something from the recesses of Zelda's mind. She couldn't see her face in the darkness, but she could feel the woman's legs shake and ease underneath her hands. Feel her rock over her tongue, fingers curling into her hair.

And then, for the first time, Lilith stopped holding back her vocalisation. For the first time, her moans rose (slowly at first, and then loud and unrestrained), echoing through the tunnels of the mines as she repeated Zelda's name over and over.

Never had her name sounded so sweet on someone's tongue (and she'd heard it spoken by many lovers).

Zelda didn't know if it was a reward for what she said or a distraction from their seditions, but the way the woman's fingers curled in her hair, the way her body trembled unlike a performance and more like unbridled eagerness, felt primal. It made her magic spark and reach out, and made the night stretch for a little longer.

It felt...

Zelda felt the word hush quietly in her mind, feeling centuries of propriety and religious education warn her against the very idea of thinking it.

...but it felt sacred in the way the satanic magic didn't.

Holy.

And with her perdition in mind, she thought to herself that Lilith tasted divine.

[khhunniewriting]

The Others (16)

[ Mafia/Gang AU ]  [ Index ]

Note: Consider reading The Quiett’s side story before this chapter ^^ it’s not necessary but it is in this universe and would fit between ch. 15 & 16.

Ji-hoon stepped out into the hallway as soon as he heard Leo’s footsteps. He was surprisingly light on his feet for someone his size. Even his steps are silent, Ji-hoon thought to himself. It took a lot out of him to be just as silent as him but he did his best in order to see where he was going so suddenly.

Lately, it seemed Leo had less of a chance to talk and spend time with you alone. If Joonkyung wasn’t around then it was Ji-hoon who was constantly tagging along, nearly clinging to him.

“Mom,” Leo called out after finally finding you.

You had just been kicked out of your own bedroom by the maids who caught you trying to reorganize your own clothes. They were upset to see you were unhappy with their work and asked for you to point out the flaws. After which they took over and had you step out.

“My baby Leo,” you sighed immediately opening your arms to hold him. It was as if he sensed your turmoil and came to your aid. “I can always rely on you to comfort me.”

His brow furrowed in question to which you responded by letting him know your grievances.

“I’m starting to get restless from not having anything to do.”

“Do you want to set for me?”

You smiled at the thought of doing something familiar. It had been a while since you were last asked to set for your son so you immediately jumped at the chance.

The two of you went out to the backyard not realizing Ji-hoon was right behind you silently watching the way you two interact. He watched you joyously set ball after ball for Leo, taking into account his every word.

After throwing the ball exactly as Leo asked you clapped your hands seeing he made the seemingly impossible shot. “Leo is the best!”  It was especially fun to see how red his face got when you praised him. “My son is the best!”

“Mom-”

“You know I was starting to think you were having so much fun with Ji-hoon that you would never ask me to do this again.”

Leo lost his hold of the ball at his mother’s sudden interruption.

“At first I was worried you might hate me after finding out that everything is my fault. Even if you don’t say anything I know you very well Leo.”

He realized even his mother had worries she hid behind her smile. Similarly, he hid his emotions behind a blank mask of indifference.

“I could never hate you,” Leo very calmly responded.

“I know,” you smiled brightly.

“Did you ever hate me?” Leo bit his lip not knowing how the words managed to slip past his lips. It was something he always thought about despite never feeling unwanted. The circumstances of his birth were always so obscure so he paid it no mind before but now that he had all the facts... it was hard not to wonder.

This seemed like a very private conversation. Ji-hoon had planned to join them, he never imagined he would stumble upon this kind of conversation. The air was thick and heavy, his own chest felt some sort of tightness.

Using his exact words you assured him, “I could never hate you.” Leo acted stoic, indifferent, and nonchalant on the outside but inside you knew he had deeply hidden his emotions for your sake. “I love you too much.”

Leo’s lips curled up relieved to hear it once more, “I love you too.”

Ji-hoon shakily sighed as tears blurred his vision. When was the last time his mother said she loved him? He pushed the tears away and went back to his usual self when he heard Leo mention their upcoming basketball game.

“What are you two doing. brother’s mom?”

You turned toward Ji-hoon’s distinguishable voice and beckoned him over when he seemed to keep his distance- most likely due to the fact your son was scowling at him. You had come to like the way he addressed you it was far more familiar than ‘Mrs. Lee’ or ‘Leo’s mom’. “Ji-hoon want to join us? I’m not very good at shooting but I can dribble and pass pretty good.”

Just to prove it you stole the ball from Leo and dribbled past him to the free-throw line only to promptly pivot and turn around to pass it back to your silent son.

Leo tossed it Ji-hoon, a silent approval allowing him to join.

Ji-hoon smiled brightly accepting the invitation and running up to you.

“You stole it from little bro but can you take the ball from me?”

He stopped short of you to show off his fancy footwork, his hands expertly dribbling the ball from one hand to the other, in between his legs, and behind his back.

You gasped in awe, “Ji-hoon is so talented.” Your genuine praise was enough to break Ji-hoon’s concentration giving you an opening to swipe the ball. In an instant, you dodged the towering teen and dribbled past him to pass the ball to an eager Leo.

Ji-hoon hadn’t seen him but his brother was already on standby near the basket. “What- no fair, this is two on one!”

You gave a small giggle enjoying the fact that you were able to finally interact with Ji-hoon outside of the drama and investigations. Referring to Zene and Ash you commented, “Too bad those two are already resting, or we could ask one of them to join us.”

Their shifts usually came to an end in the evening once they were safe at home and the boss, Dok2, was home. Then they would retire to sleep only to resume their positions at midnight.

“Then let’s take turns and share brother’s mother,” Ji-hoon boldly suggested. To his surprise, Leo simply nodded in agreement.

It wasn’t until the night chill set in that Leo was aware of how long they had been outside. He saw you shiver slightly with only a thin sweater to shield you from the wind. He smoothly slid his jacket over your shoulders not minding the cold.

“It’s getting late, we should go inside.”

You nodded in agreement. “Good idea,” you all but ran back into the warmth of the building leaving them behind. Truthfully you had been wondering until when were these two giants would deplete their energies and retire. It seemed like they would stay out all night. Thankfully your observant son noted your condition.

Ji-hoon laughed, “your mom’s pretty fast.”

Leo had no response to that.

He was simply eyeing this Ji-hoon who seemed to hide a lot for being such an open honest person. The image of Ji-hoon silently crying while poorly concealing himself was ingrained in his brain.

“Next time you want to join, just ask.”

Ji-hoon watched his brother’s retreating form with wide eyes. “You knew I was there the whole time!” How embarrassing...  “Just so you know I wasn’t eavesdropping or anything I just-” He used ‘anything’ to cover for his crying.

“Whatever big brother says,” Leo smirked.

In this situation, Ji-hoon wasn’t able to enjoy or focus on the fact that Leo had once again called him big brother. He walked with his head hung low wondering why Leo decided to speak up.

Was it to embarrass him?

Or was he genuinely concerned and giving him a chance to talk about it?

Ji-hoon knew Leo wasn’t completely devoid of emotion from what he heard earlier so he went with the second option. “I just- I realize why you have such a hard time accepting my-our, father.”

Leo had a loving mother all his life. The amount of care, love, and devotion from her was more than he had ever gotten from his parents combined. Sure, they cared for him but it was shown differently. His mother watched and educated him 24/7 when he was young; before he could even enter school. He was smart thanks to her who wanted to prepare him for his role as future heir and leader of Illionaire Ambition.

His father had put various people in charge of his safety. He brought him along to experience and familiarize himself with the business. Any question and monetary indulgence were fulfilled by him. Ji-hoon could ask for anything and it would be there. Until he started living with his father a part of him disliked the cold man that constantly ignored him unless his life was in danger.

Now he felt being by his side had softened the man. He got to see his father’s expressions the same way he saw Leo’s. He understood they were much more cautious than he who openly expressed his emotions with a few exceptions.

“You two are really alike, it’s kind of annoying.”

Leo didn’t know how to respond. To him, Ji-hoon was a more outgoing version of Joonkyung. They seemed to think and act alike. After all, what kid would suddenly accept and befriend the son of their father’s extramarital affair?

“You’re the one that likes cars, women, and jewelry.” Unlike him, Ji-hoon constantly wore chains and watches similar to their fathers. He even expressed interest in wanting to pierce his ears.

Ji-hoon relished in the thought that his interests overlapped with his father. “True...”

You were oblivious to their conversation when they caught up to you inside. That’s when Leo decided to inform you of his upcoming game.

“We’re playing next week.”

“Next week?” You looked forward to seeing the game. Although part of you was remorseful that you wouldn’t be able to engage in your pre-game ritual. There was no way you would take your son to that place now.

Joonkyung eagerly searched for you when he finished bathing and saw you had yet to come to his room.  He got downstairs just in time to witness the remorseful expression of his beloved.

“What’s wrong,” he wondered if his sons had done anything to upset her.

“Brother’s mom used to take Leo to the spa for a massage before every game but now because of AOMG she’s lamenting not being able to take him.”

“It’s just- a very experienced person worked there.” She was referring to the woman that regularly massaged Ji-hoon, the one with expertise in the field of sports medicine and physical therapy.  

Joonkyung nodded in understanding. “You can go, Hoody no longer works there. She disappeared shortly after your resignation.”

You were truly angered by the two-faced woman who tried to get near you with ulterior motives. But as long as she was gone then it would be great if she could see her old co-workers. She lamented leaving so suddenly without saying goodbye.

“Then shall we go this weekend?” You looked to both Leo and Ji-hoon.

“Me too?” Ji-hoon’s eyes brightened up at the invitation, immediately accepting.

“Then we’ll all go,” Joonkyung stated very matter-of-factly causing you to give him a bewildered look. “It’s still too dangerous for you two to be alone.”

“You too?” Ji-hoon asked incredulously. If he and Leo were going then Zene and Ash would be there to protect them. If he felt more guards were needed then he could assign some.

He didn’t need to go himself.

Joonkyung wanted to go.

\\\

After a long week of school, the weekend had arrived. Leo found comfort in the familiarity of the spa despite the discomfort he felt in being there with his new father and brother. 

“Manager Y/N!” The young lady at the front desk exclaimed upon seeing you. It brought all those within earshot to their feet. They began greeting you in earnest despite you not working there anymore.

“Hello everyone, don’t mind me I’m just a customer today.”

“How can you say that! We were all so worried about you.”

“Sorry,” you laughed it off not knowing what you could do. You knew you worried them, they had been your staff for many years and to suddenly leave like that must have worried and/or hurt them. 

The attention shifted to Leo who seemed to have grown since they last saw him.

“It feels like ages since we last saw you.”

“Did you get taller?’

“Handsomer,” another suggested.

It was a chorus of chatter that left the usually outgoing Ji-hoon in silence. The constant glances his way didn’t help. He felt these people desperately wanted to ask him something.

It was inevitable. 

Everyone was wondering who the other handsome men in your life were. However, no one dared to ask... directly.

“We’re so happy to see you are so well escorted today.” The young woman winked at you. 

You blushed slightly knowing this would happen. Even if you steeled your resolve during the ride over, you still felt unsure of how you should present your relationship with Joonkyung.

You avoided Joonkyung all together and instead brought Ji-hoon and Leo to their attention. “These two have a game coming up.”

“Ah-” the woman hummed in understanding knowing well what Leo’s usual treatment consisted of. “Say no more Boss, I’ll let Saeyeon know.” She got up asking the two boys to follow her.

While they were gone you took the opportunity to question Joonkyung. You pulled him over to the waiting area. “Is it okay for you to be here with me?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Up until now, Joonkyung had remained silent not knowing that his looks aside, the people around them were starting to note the similarities between Joonkyung and Leo.

“I’m not sure-” You shook your head. It was one thing to reconnect and rekindle your relationship with Joonkyung behind closed doors. It was another to publicize it. While you were no one special, he had a reputation to uphold, an image and set of rules to guide his behavior. 

Joonkyung didn’t need you to voice these concerns. He had already known what was on your mind since the day you nonchalantly accepted to be the Lady of Illionaire. He suspected you yourself didn’t grasp the meaning behind these words.

“Is it so hard to say you are my wife?”

“Wha-”

Joonkyung silenced you with a quick kiss before smirking.

In a hushed whisper, “When did I become your wife?”

“What did you think I meant when I declared you the Lady of Illionaire? Why do you think I am working so hard to divorce Kylie?” Joonkyung sweetly pecked your cheek to settle your shock and bring you to terms with what he was saying. “Obviously I will marry you after.”

Your heart nearly seized at the declaration as if it were set in stone. He wasn’t even divorced yet he was saying these things. 

“Although we are practically married now with you living and sleeping with me-”

“Because you keep insisting!” 

After sleeping with Joonkyung once he seemed to instantly take to being a couple again. He didn’t force you to move into his room or anything but he would go to your room if you didn’t go to his. Once you fell asleep in your own bed only to wake up beside him the next morning. 

So you willingly went afraid your son would one day knock on your door only to find you two together. He was a teenage boy but still, you worried about how to deal with this type of thing. You were mindful of him and Ji-hoon, making sure not to act lovingly with Joonkyung when they were around.

The usually composed man chuckled, “Yet you don’t resist once inside.”

You took a step back from him to regain composure. He was being to blatant about things that required delicacy.

The move only served to awake Joonkyung’s need to be closer. He secured his arm around your waist pulling you against him. He sat down on a cushioned seat bringing you to sit on top of his lap.

“I can sit on my own,” you tried to protest but he held you firmly. You hid your reddening face hastily behind your hands. Unable to comprehend Joonkyung’s sudden good mood left you vulnerable.

Joonkyung kissed the hand that kept your cheek from him. “You’ve done enough on your own...” his voice came off as remorseful yet sweet as he tried to portray his sincere devotion. “I want you to seriously rely on me, to depend on me.”

The entire time Joonkyung was on high alert, making sure nothing went wrong. With everyone doing their jobs behind the scene he was hopeful that soon he would be able to guarantee your safety instead of confining you in the mansion.

\\\

“You’re ditching us!” Ji-hoon indignantly exclaimed as he got off his father’s car. Instead of parking the car his father drove up to the front door and asked them to get off and you to stay.

It was pretty obvious what his father wanted to do.

“Should I follow you on your dates in the future then?”

Ji-hoon hummed, “Good point.”

Leo was especially unwilling to get off but did nonetheless. He was eyeing his father wondering what his intent was. It wasn’t like they didn’t already spend every day together. If anything Leo felt it was he who spent the least amount of time with his mother now that this man showed up. The more he thought the less he wished to know.

A blush painted your cheeks when you realized what was going on. “I’m not even dressed for a date.”

Joonkyung disagreed thinking the clothes didn’t make a difference. As long as it was you, the clothes would pale in comparison to your beauty. You could wear anything and it wouldn’t matter because his eyes would be on you regardless.

“What you are wearing is fine.”

You looked down at your outfit. Although plain, the jeans and black turtle neck were complimented by your warm coat. 

After years of being single, you didn’t know what date wear would look like now. You got used to dressing for comfort as a working single mother but you did try to some extent.

Leo hesitated but said no more and turned to go inside. 

“Wait for me...” Ji-hoon followed him allowing you two to drive off.

Zene and Ash quickly sprung to action, rolling out of their seats to go greet them. 

“Hey young bosses, back so soon?”

“Where’s the boss?”

“We were ditched,” Ji-hoon informed them. “He took brother’s mom on a date.”

“Oh,” the two guards winked at each other not realizing Leo was glaring daggers at them. “Don’t worry young bosses, we’ll keep you company.”

“Why don’t we go out,” Ash suggested. “We can ask Mr. Kwon to drive us to the arcade or something. We can’t get too wild since you two are still kids.”

“Who’s a kid?” Ji-hoon was offended by the term. He was at least a teenager and wouldn’t let others look down on him just because he wasn’t of age yet. “Who would want to go to an arcade?”

Zene noticed the interest in Leo’s eyes. After spending so long by his side he too had started noticing Leo’s silent language. The subtle changes in his eyes and face that meant something. “Looks like the young lion boss is interested.”

“Huh?” Ji-hoon quickly turned to his younger brother. “You want to go?”

Leo didn’t confirm or deny, he looked away knowing he was at least interested. “I’ve never gone...”

“Then let’s go,” Jihoon beamed. Finally, the chance had presented itself for him to show off.

\\\

It was late at night, Donggab had finally made it home when his phone rang alarming his doting fiance. Luna sauntered out happy to see him only to stand by quietly as he answered the call with a noticeably dark expression.

“What is it?”

The Quiett answered after seeing it was a hitman from Ambition. He was originally one of Kylie’s men, one that Changmo and the other truly loyal Ambition guys alerted them to. He was monetarily persuaded to be on Kylie’s side all these years. Now they flipped him to their side by doubling the amount he regularly received from Kylie.

Had it been anyone else he would have ignored the call.

“The ex-lady put a hit out on Lady Y/N for 5 million.”

The Quiett’s jaw tensed alarming Luna. She was prepared to jump into action if necessary. Without a second thought, she made for the stairs to get dressed but was stopped by his hold on her wrist.

“Alright, thanks for the information...” He had to tell Dok2 about this. “Try to gain exclusive rights to the job. Appeal to her and make it believable.”

“What if she doesn’t agree?”

“We’ll worry about that afterward.”

Once Donggab hung up he told Luna. “She put out a hit on her.”

There was no need for names, Luna understood the situation completely. She also knew this wasn’t something she could help with. She could only curse Kylie, “that stup*d f*cking b*tch.”

He was only thankful this came out before you stepped out on your own. Donggab was aware you were due to go out for Leo’s game. Secret guards had been picked out especially for that day.

Now he knew Dok2 wouldn’t be willing to risk your life by letting you out of the mansion.

“You have to tell the boss.”

He was in agreement but before he could make the call he got another. This time it was his assistant.

“What is it?”

“Sir, AOMG is present at the north side of our territory. It seems to be Jay Park himself and his second-in-command. Additionally, there is word that one of their vehicles was spotted earlier today around Lady Y/N’s old neighborhood.”

When it rains it pours, Donggab thought to himself.

“Thank you for the information. Enhance security and send additional guards to the boss’s home. I also need people on the streets finding that stray vehicle. They must approach cautiously- it could be Sik-k.”

“Why the boss’s home?” Luna quickly demanded answers. “Are they going to be okay?”

“I’m going to inform Dok2 looks like everyone has their eye on us today.”

“Shouldn’t we check on the young bosses?”

“They have Ash and Zene.”

“Still...” Luna couldn’t leave it be. “I’m going to call him.”

-end-

Y/N: Yeah so next chapter is going to be lit.

[presidentrhodes]

Spider-Man Far From Home spoilers

I just finished watching it and, honestly, I’d say it was a pretty good way to bid farewell to the first three phases of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. 

Spoilers under the cut. This is pretty long and rambly. 

1. Midtown high is supposed to be a school for geniuses but these little shits use comic sans in tribute videos and steal watermarked Getty Images pictures to put in them. I loved it, particularly with the song choice and the fact that Vision’s picture was from the Civil War airport standoff in Leipzig — that means only Peter could’ve provided it and no one bothered to ask how he got it. 

2. Tom Holland really wasn’t kidding when he said the film was a love letter to RDJ/Tony Stark. He was everywhere, his sacrifice was being recognised around the world: they even had a documentary on him, which was available in the in-flight entertainment, plus, there were murals and photographs in Venice and Prague. He was very much present throughout the film. 

3. EDITH. In a nutshell, it’s an augmented reality-enabled AI that controls a tactical and defensive system Tony built to protect Earth in the aftermath of his demise. Think Ultron’s perfect self minus the winning personality — EDITH controls a bunch of massive Stark Industries satellites in orbit that are equipped with thousands of weaponised drones. It can remotely target individual threats and take them out with simple voice commands. It also is able to connect to any network in the vicinity, so, Peter was able to see what his classmates were doing on their devices. 

I’ve already seen so many angry posts comparing EDITH to Project Insight without taking into account a) intent; and b) the reality of the MCU. Tony didn’t build EDITH for the same reason Zola built Project Insight. The former was meant to be a last or first line of defence, controlled by an Avenger Tony personally trusted. The latter was a means to subjugate the world population to Hydra’s will. 

All tech in the MCU is dangerous when it falls into the wrong hands — that’s why they’re called the wrong hands and why Steve once said the safest hands are their own. The supersoldier serum gave us Steve Rogers; it also gave us the Winter Soldiers, a bunch of dangerous, invincible highly-trained assassins. Pym particles gave us Ant-Man and the Wasp as well as time travel; it also gave us Yellowjacket, who immediately wanted to weaponise the tech. The Iron Man suit gave us Iron Man; but also gave us Iron Monger, who wanted to build an army of metal soldiers. Wakanda’s highly-advanced weapon systems were able to withstand a full-scale invasion from the Outriders, but those same weapons almost started a global war in Killmonger’s hands. Project Insight and Ultron showed us the bad side of AI; JARVIS, Vision, FRIDAY, Karen and EDITH, to an extent, showed us the good side of AI.

The point is, technology in the wrong hands will always be a bad thing yet people only seem to gripe about Stark tech while ignoring every other piece of advanced technology we’ve seen weaponized or misused. I wonder why. Since the MCU canonically isn’t made up of one big Luddite colony, there’ll always be new technology being developed and bad guys finding ways to abuse them. 

Just look at the holographic tech Mysterio designed while at Stark Industries. Even before he was fired, his ambitions were grander and afterwards, he weaponized it and willingly sent people to their dooms so that he could play a hero. When 16-year-old Peter Parker, MJ and Ned — literal children — found out the truth and Mysterio risked being exposed as a fraud, he actively tried to kill them. Mysterio beat the shit out of Peter and threw him in front of an incoming high-speed train, so, no, I don’t care if Tony Stark was mean to him by firing him, he was a piece of shit who tried repeatedly to kill a kid. 

Tony, meanwhile, spent $600+ million on the holographic tech to design B.A.R.F — a technology with some really promising applications in the MedTech sector to help people overcome their PTSD and trauma. That’s the fucking difference between a superhero and a supervillain.

Sure, EDITH also has massive privacy concerns. That’s on Tony, but after the Decimation, I think people have bigger problems to worry about than whether Peter Parker is snooping on their text messages. Ultimately, EDITH offers Peter, and whoever else is going to fill up the Avengers roster in the future, a plan B to strike the bad guys from a safe distance. I

4. Tony left Peter in charge of EDITH. Not the Avengers, not SHIELD, and definitely not the US Department of Defense — a fact that actually pissed off Mysterio. Tony left it in Peter’s hands because he knew Spider-Man took the meaning of responsibility far more seriously than he ever did. All those years ago, Peter told him if one could do the things he could, and they didn’t, and then the bad things happened, they happened because of them. And, honestly, if anyone deserves to have control over such a potentially dangerous piece of tech that can help in future battles, then it’s Peter — even more so than Tony. 

5. Again, Peter is 16 in this film and still coping with loss and trauma. He willingly gave controls of EDITH to Quentin because Mysterio had everyone fooled, including Nick Fury/Talos — they’re both highly experienced soldiers. Fooling them wouldn’t have been easy and Mysterio’s plan was extremely well thought-out and perfectly executed. Peter redeem himself in the end and takes back control of EDITH. 

6. Peter and MJ were super adorable. Spider-Man is the only franchise apart from Iron Man, where the secondary lead characters are allowed to grow without it all being about the main hero. MJ is allowed to explore her feelings for Peter and measure them against Brad’s affection. Ned is allowed to also grow in his character and be more than Spider-Man’s best friend/guy in a chair. 

7. Happy and May were also adorable.

8. Happy ruined a perfectly good bed of tulips just to rescue May’s nephew and give him the TLC/pep talk he needed after, again, Beck pushed Peter in front of a high-speed train that would’ve killed an ordinary person. 

9. Peter confusing ACDC with Led Zeppelin is the most Gen Z thing ever. Happy watched Peter design his own suit and it reminded him of the times he spent watching Tony tinker in his lab. You could feel Tony’s absence pretty viscerally in that scene on the jet. 

10. Peter tingle. Lol. 

11. Happy’s words about Tony were beautiful. He said something along the lines of, “Tony was my best friend. He second-guessed everything he did. He was a mess. But the one thing he didn’t second-guess was picking you.” That really furthered the Iron Dad Spider Son narrative.

12. Iron Zombie was the w o r s t thing ever. Again, Beck emotionally manipulated 16-year-old Peter Parker and said if Peter was any good, his mentor would still be alive just as he projected an illusion of a decaying Iron Man corpse attacking him. To give you a sense of how manipulative he really is, he told his guy in the chair that Peter’s blood will be on his hands because he had failed to report a missing drone part that MJ had discovered in Prague. 

13. Peter finally understanding that he doesn’t have to be the next Tony Stark or Iron Man. He just needs to be the next Spider-Man and Peter Parker. 

14. Peter choosing to safeguard EDITH. 

15. J. Jonah Jameson and J.K. Simmons. That is all. He’s the MCU equivalent of Alex Jones and I love him so much. I wonder if this means we’ll see Doctor Strange offer Peter his help to erase everyone’s memories about the reveal of his secret identity. 

16. Every Nick Fury scene automatically becomes 2000x funnier when you realize it’s Talos posing as Fury and 90% of the time, he has no idea what the fuck is going on and he’s just winging it as he goes along. Also, he was furious that he and his wife, as members of a shapeshifting species, were unable to detect Mysterio’s ruse. 

17. Mysterio was a douchebag. Apart from trying to kill actual kids because he feared they might expose him, he did nothing worthy of a hero. He was jealous and angry about Tony, and he wanted to usurp Iron Man without doing any of the hard work. He willingly put people in danger, was prepared to sacrifice people to make his actions seem more realistic and wanted to take credit for saving the day and preventing an Avengers-level catastrophe. I’ve already seen reviewers trying to sympathise with Mysterio, and his persistent attempts to kill a 16-year-old kid because Tony was apparently mean to him. 

18. And, no, Tony did not steal B.A.R.F tech from Mysterio as some review sites are claiming. The narrative is unreliable at best because we hear only Quentin’s point of view — the same Quentin who had been using his holographic tech to deceive people and put them in harm’s way because he wanted to shake the Queen’s hands or some misguided bullshit. He deserved to fired. Plus, he was a Stark Industries employee. Tech companies almost always own the patent to whatever tech you design or invent for them when you’re on their payroll. It’s how corporations work.

19. Tony quoted Henry IV to Fury when he told him to give EDITH to Peter and said Spidey wouldn’t get the reference (Heavy is the head that wears the crown) because it’s not Star Wars. It was a nice, poignant moment — made funnier when you realize that’s Talos in disguise, which means at some point, Fury had to have a conversation with him about Shakespeare and Star Wars. Someone pls write the fic. 

20. The most important thing is that this film actually tried to address the Decimation. Endgame pretended to gloss over it to give Gay Joe Russo his 15 minutes of fame. But this film actually started with May and Peter organizing an event to help the displaced. Pepper sent a huge check and apologized for not being able to make it in person. :( 

20a. I love Jake Gyllenhaal. I had expected Quentin to be a dramatic thot but he really brought a lot of depth to the character. 

Overall, I liked the film a lot more than I had anticipated. Some people are going to scrutinize this film to death to prove Tony was the ultimate MCU villain and, hey, if that’s the hill they choose to die on, I don’t really care. After 11 years and 23 films later, if they still think that Tony was the real villain all along, then nothing we say or Marvel does, will change their mind. 

Personally, I thought this film was a good send off to Tony, now that they’ve firmly established that Peter Parker/Spider-Man is going to be the new face of the MCU and will carry with him the Iron Man legacy. He wasn’t always right and a lot of his choices tended to backfire but, in the end, his motivations were good and he still went out as the man who saved the world. He, unlike Beck, or Vulture before him, never tried to kill a child, not even when he brought him to a parking lot brawl among friends. 

Now, if only Marvel can just leave Tony’s legacy alone and let Peter, and the rest of the MCU, thrive on its own instead of retconning established Iron Man lore to fit new narratives. 

[blue-mood-blue]

“Rule number one, my dude,” Taako says as he picks up a tomato for a closer inspection, “Always know who your product comes from.”

The tomato looks fine to Sazed, as does all of the other produce scattered on the stagecoach counter, but he can tell from the expression on Taako’s face that there’s something he’s missed. That’s not difficult to do - Taako has a sharp kind of attention to detail that Sazed has never managed to match, and probably never will.

He doesn’t understand what he missed. It looks delicious to him, the best stuff they’ve seen in a few towns. “You know someone in town I should have talked to?”

Taako shakes his head. He’s got that smile that only feigns patience on his face. “How much did you pay for these?” Not much - an impressively low price, in fact, which Sazed had thought was a bargain but was probably a red flag instead. His answer must be clear on his face, because Taako doesn’t wait for him to say so before snapping his fingers.

Whatever enchantment the peddler used to make the produce look fresh falls away, and everything on the counter wilts slightly. It isn’t much of a con - everything is edible, it’s not as if Sazed paid for garbage - but it’s not even close to the quality Taako demands for the show. 

“What I mean is,” Taako clarifies, “If someone wants something from you, consider why. If you can guess the reason, you’ve got the advantage.”

Sazed isn’t sure he understands the advice, but he doesn’t want to prolong the moment and his own embarrassment. He gathers the produce back into the basket and puts the mostly-fine food in their own stores. It’s fine, he thinks. He’ll have more chances to prove himself.

News travels fast in a small town, and rumors travel faster. It’s no time at all before everyone in the small community has decided on what really happened to old Walter and why his wife was carted away by the local militia.

“She never liked him,” Sazed’s mother asserts, well within earshot of her son. He’s only a child, and she assumes a child has no interest in the concerns of adults. He couldn’t possibly understand, he’s still too young. Sazed does his best to encourage that assumption, mildly playing with his toys with no indication that he’s listening. “You could tell, couldn’t you, just by the way she talked to him in public. And a hearty man like Walter getting sick like that? I always thought something about that smelled.”

One of the other adults at the table leaned in closer. They glanced at Sazed, and spoke in a whisper that was almost at normal speaking volume. “It was arsenic, I heard. Slipped a little in his food to make him sick. She might’ve gotten away with it if she hadn’t used a little too much that last time.”

For the little boy sitting on the floor, playing a quiet game and listening, that was the part that stuck. Just a little is okay. Just a little arsenic only makes someone sick.

The show was stunning, the audience was full, they have money to keep them going for months and the promise of success in every surrounding town for miles. But Taako still sits at the table and stares into the middle distance as if none of it means anything. He’s smiling and it’s an empty expression. There’s a bottle of wine next to him, and he hasn’t even bothered opening it.

Sometimes Sazed wants to ask Taako about what he’s looking for. If it’s ambition driving him, Sazed doesn’t think that Taako will ever be satisfied. Maybe that’s just the nature of success, to always want more. He doesn’t know that he’s ever seen Taako actually happy.

Sazed thinks, maybe, he’s starting to understand the dissatisfaction. There’s a restlessness building up in him with the surety that the show could be more - would be more - if he was just given a chance to be a part of it. The feeling bleeds into everything else until even the parts he used to enjoy have soured, and it’s all he ever thinks about.

He wants more. The more he wants, it seems, the less likely he is to have anything.

He’s about to retreat to his own cot because someone should get some sleep and Taako isn’t going to when he looks like that, when he hears Taako say something. Not necessarily to him, not necessarily to anyone, but Sazed is curious enough to hear him out.

“It’s fucked up.” There’s a long pause. Sazed thinks that might be it, but Taako continues. “How you can think you want something, work so hard to get it, and it’s not even close. A fucking joke.”

Taako doesn’t say anything else. Sazed goes to bed, and a couple of hours later he hears Taako get up and go to his own cot. 

Sazed doesn’t think he’s asking too much. Of course he wants to be a part of things - a bigger part of things. He wants the admiring stares of the audience, the smiles and cheers. He wants to impress Taako, as impossible as that sounds. He wants a chance. 

But Taako is always preoccupied, and so Sazed thinks, maybe it’s time to make his chance.

He visits the apothecary, and the old man behind the counter raises an eyebrow when he tells the man what he’s looking for. “What d’ya need arsenic for?” The man’s expression doesn't give anything away, and Sazed shifts nervously.

“Do you ask all of your customers what they're going to do with what they buy? What does it matter? What do people ever buy arsenic for?” He’ll be two towns away before he’s going to use it. The man won’t be able to put anything together even if Sazed does answer his questions.

The man hums in consideration, examines his stock, and hands over a small bottle. “This should do the trick, then.” And before the man can get a better look at him than he already has, Sazed leaves.

Sazed keeps checking his pocket on his way back to their camp, just to make sure the bottle is still there. The feeling of the glass makes the whole thing more real. He’s going to go through with it, and the tiny weight in his pocket is proof.

He wishes the little flutters of nerves would settle down. It's a good plan. It's a solid plan. A little sneaky, but completely harmless. He’ll slip a little of the arsenic into Taako’s food, just enough to make him sick. It has to be onstage, Taako has to be embarrassed, otherwise he'd power through it to do the show anyway. And then, of course, Taako will have to pay attention. Sazed will finish the show, it'll be obvious that he can handle the stage, and what's more, Taako will know that he's dependable in an emergency.

Sazed takes a deep breath and taps the bottle in his pocket again. It's all about to change for him. He's going after everything he wants.

He hides the arsenic in the chicken.

He watches from the side of the stage for his opportunity.

He sees Taako take a bite. He sees the way Taako’s face changes.

Everything falls to pieces.

It must have been the apothecary, Sazed decides weeks later in a dark tavern, hidden away in the corner. Rule number fucking one - know who your product comes from. It wasn’t arsenic in that bottle. The man guessed what Sazed wanted to do with it, and he guessed wrong, and then Sazed had everything that he wanted. 

He doesn’t want any of it.

The show died with Taako. Sazed could’ve repainted the side of the stagecoach, would’ve had a head start of an existing audience, but. He can’t imagine standing on that stage. He’s sure all he’ll hear is Taako’s voice, all he’ll see is the way Taako did everything better. He doesn’t want a cooking show. He never wanted a fucking cooking show. Sazed isn’t sure he knows what he wanted.

He doesn’t have anything now. He burned everything that was left. Sazed put everything into the stagecoach, every last hint or reminder of what he did, and he set fire to it and he stared at it as if ridding himself of the evidence would somehow relieve the panic and guilt swirling in his chest. It didn’t work; nothing has. He feels as if the fire is still licking at his heels everywhere he walks, the burning tracks outlining exactly what he’s guilty of to everyone he passes.

Sazed takes another drink of the awful beer in front of him. He came to the tavern because of a job offer, but he’d rather just stay where he is. For the first time since the fire he feels concealed; for once he doesn't feel like someone is watching him from just out of sight.

Sazed is here to meet someone though, and before he can make any attempt to slip away because of second thoughts she's spotted him from across the room. She's a tall orc woman who looks like she could break most of the other people in the tavern in half if she was so inclined, and it's with relief that Sazed observes her relatively friendly expression. She sits down at the table across from him. “So, you're the chef?”

It's a horrible idea, but when the ad for the position fell into his lap, he may have… fudged his skills somewhat. He knows enough, and he hopes that a different kitchen will clear away the possibility of ghosts. “I'm the chef, yeah.” He is now, isn't he? Now that there's no one else to tell him differently. He tries not to think about it like that, like the accident might have been something he wanted. He can't let himself think about that.

“Great. Are you ready to go? Maybe now? This is a really weird hiring process for us - boss lady wants to talk to you personally. She'd rather interview you on-site.”

Sazed hesitates. He doesn't relish the thought of going anywhere with a stranger, but it's either make an attempt at moving forward or keep running. It's an opportunity, there for him to take.

Taako didn't have any family. He didn't have any friends. No one to wonder what happened to him. There is no one looking for Sazed.

The moon is fake, there are wars that the world has forgotten, and Sazed can't process any of it around the expression of the woman who calls herself Madam Director as she stares down at him.

Deep, endless, boundless grief.

“I won’t ask why. Frankly, you don’t have an explanation that I want to hear.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m sure you can guess why I’ve brought you here.”

He doesn’t have an answer. He thinks he knew from the moment it happened that there would price for what he did, eventually, from someone. She continues.

“It’s not my place to pass judgement, or to decide how to punish you. Much as I might like to. But you’re all that I can offer her, once we find her. In place of him.”

He doesn’t say it while he’s being carried away to wherever they’re going to keep him, Sazed doesn’t say anything at all because there’s nothing to say, but he wonders if this woman and Taako had been looking for the same thing.