#He’s just Another Shadow ( Hiccup Dash Games );

[seijorhi]

Final Girl

Kuroo Tetsurou, Bokuto Koutarou & Akaashi Keiji x Female Reader

And please check out the incredible fanart @lausterdomyamong created for this fic here 💕💕💕

TW blood, gore, violence, minor character death, implied non-con, pregnancy mentions, nsfw

Your lungs are burning. 

You haven’t run like this in years, your thighs are screaming at you for a reprieve. With every step it feels like the soles of your bare feet are splitting open but you can’t stop, not for a single second.

You can’t stop. You can’t stop. 

Keep running.

It’s dark, and you can barely see.

Stumbling like newborn foal through the thick undergrowth, tripping over the roots that catch at your feet. Your legs are scratched and bleeding, and there’s a nasty scrape along your arm from where you’d fallen and tried to cushion the blow, but you shove it all down and you keep running.

You can’t hear much over the sounds of your laboured breaths and your own heartbeat hammering away inside of your ears, but you know you must be making a racket. Branches breaking, leaves crunching underfoot as you clumsily dash through the woods - keep running, keep going.

Being quiet won’t save you if they catch up.

The loud whoops and the hyena like laughter that echo out through the trees behind you spur you onwards. Faster, you have to run faster.

This is nothing but a game to them. 

“Wait- wait, just stop for a sec… do you hear that?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes as you scoot closer to his bedroll, “Really, babe? The campfire stories weren’t enough for you? Do you not want me to sleep at all on this trip?”

There’s a teasing little grin on your face, not that your boyfriend can see it in the darkness of your tent. You expect him to laugh, grab you by the waist and pull you under him - make some quip about his wicked intentions of not letting you sleep a wink, but he doesn’t.

He stiffens, pushing himself back upright onto his palms, head cocked to the side like a dog listening for the faintest hint whisper of a sound.

“Babe-”

“Shh!” he hisses, and it’s more shock than anything else that has your mouth falling shut. His hand reaches across to grab yours in the darkness and he squeezes it just once. An apology maybe, or a reassurance that you’re still there with him. “Can you hear that? I think… I think there’s someone out there.”

You swallow uneasily, goosebumps prickling at your skin. If this is part of some stupid joke, you’re gonna kick him out of this tent and make him bunk with his friends for the rest of the trip. He’s never been one for mean spirited pranks, but this is freaking you out.

“It’s probably just one of the guys-” or an animal, or the wind, or his own overactive imagination. You guys are out in the middle of the woods after all. 

“I’m gonna go out and check,” he whispers, pulling his hand from yours and pressing a quick kiss against your cheek. “Stay here.”

There’s a road, a long stretch of winding highway that you’d driven along for what felt like hours when you’d first arrived with your friends. There’s no possible way for you to know if you’re going in the right direction, but if you can just make it there, then-

The thick scent of smoke invades your nose and for you falter - just for a split second - searching for the source. There, maybe two hundred yards away to your left, you spot the orange glow flickering between the trees and your stomach lurches.

Dark figures flit through the clearing, maybe a dozen of them, half illuminated by the bonfire. You can hear their laughter, the shouts and drunken revelry as they party the night away. They don’t have a care in the world, and why should they? Real monsters belong in horror movies and scary stories, not lurking in the shadows of the woods. 

Leave them.

The vicious thought takes you by surprise, but for one awful moment, you consider it. The promise of fresh new toys to rip apart and break, drunk and blissfully unaware, surely that would be enough to tempt them away. You’re just one girl… 

(The truth, the one that sits heavy in your stomach, whispers that you know better than to believe they’ll ever let you get away.)

Your heart pounds against your ribs, your legs unwittingly slowing down. You don’t have time for indecision; it’s them or you.

If leaving them to the wolves meant that you walked away from this, if you could make it back home-

There’s a shout, a scream that rips through the crisp autumn night before it cuts off with an abrupt gurgle. A loud thud followed by a laugh you don’t recognise - one that sends a chill running down your spine. More voices, more screams. Footsteps and a splatter of something dark and viscous against the side of your tent.

There’s a hoot and a chuckle, closer this time, and you hear a sob that’s all too familiar. Pleading. 

Your friend begging for her life.

“Shh, shh, shhh. Aw c’mon sweetheart, don’t be like that.”

Another hiccuping sob. “Please… p-please I don’t wanna die…”

“Kuroo-”

There’s a petulant huff, a loud voice interjecting, “s’no fun when they’re just sitting there.”

Kneeling frozen in your tent with one hand clamped tightly over your mouth to stifle your own terrified cries, you squeeze your eyes shut, not daring to draw breath. 

Somebody sighs - the first one, you think. “Y’know, I think Bokuto has a point… Do you like games, sweetheart?”

There’s no response - at least not one that you can hear - but she must have nodded, because the voice continues, “Glad to hear it! Tell you what, we’re gonna play a little game, and if you win, we’ll let you go! Sounds fair, right?”

“We’ll even give you a headstart, just cause we’re nice guys! Whad'ya reckon ‘Kaashi? A minute? Two?”

There’s a short silence, filled only by the sounds of her ragged whimpering. “Two,” the second one - ‘Kaashi - decides. His voice is deadpan, smooth, cold and blunt, but there’s an underlying current of something excitable - the barest hint that he’s not quite as disinterested as he sounds. “She won’t get away.”

No.

You veer, sprinting towards the camp. 

The others died while you hid like a fucking coward, too scared to do anything to help them (it wouldn’t have made a difference, but you should have tried) you can’t do this again. 

You can only imagine how you must look, a strange woman sprinting out of the woods, barefoot, your nightgown torn and filthy, blood streaking your skin. You can pinpoint the moment that they catch sight of you, one of the guys doing a double take and jerking so badly he almost falls off the log he’s perched on. “What the fuck?!”

Another turns, eyes wide and gaping, “Dude, she’s fucking pre-”

“RUN!” you bellow, just in time to see an axe arc through the air beside you and embed itself smack bang in the centre of his skull with a sickening thud.

“Now that’s a bullseye!” Bokuto hollers, maybe thirty feet behind you and gaining quickly. “Didja see that, Akaashi?”

Screams erupt from the other campers, scrambling frantically to their feet as their friend collapses lifelessly to the ground, blood still spurting gruesomely from his wound. 

“Don’t go gettin’ cocky now, the night’s still young,” Kuroo drawls, swinging his baseball bat - the dark wood flecked with dried blood, rusted nails crudely hammered through the barrel - experimentally through the air a few times. “And last I counted, I was still two up on you.”

There’s no time to humour the fear that rips through you like wildfire. You grab the nearest camper - a girl not much older than yourself, staring wide eyed and trembling at the body in front of her - and yank her forward with you. “Run,” you hiss again.

The others scatter, drunk and clumsy - a split second too slow. 

A boot lands on the fallen tree stump, its owner springing gracefully over it. Akaashi’s machete gleams in the moonlight, sweeping gracefully like an extension of his arm as he slices downwards. Blood sprays, drenching his front, and another body falls to the ground - this one missing half a face. 

It’s brutal. Chaotic. 

Ruthless. 

You can’t look back, you can’t help them. The girl is screaming at you, yelling words you can’t hear, trying fruitlessly to tug her wrist out of your grip, but you don’t relent. You don’t slow down, not even as dread fills your stomach and tears burn unshed in your eyes. You can’t help the others - not as Kuroo’s bat comes swinging out of the darkness, tearing flesh and muscle from bone, not when Bo yanks his axe from his victim’s head with a foot planted on his chest, immediately giving chase to another with a wild grin, not when Akaashi’s machete, slick with blood, cuts through her friends like butter - but you can save her.

Just one person- 

“Kitten, come back and play!” Kuroo shouts after you with a sickeningly fond chuckle.

- so long as you don’t stop running.

The camp is eerily quiet, even the crickets have stopped. You have no idea how long ago they left to hunt down your friend, how long you’ve sat, sobbing in silence, too scared to breathe, waiting to see if they’d come back. 

Your friends are dead. Your boyfriend is dead. 

You don’t realise how badly you’re shaking until you try and move - almost falling flat on your face when your arms give out. They’re gone, but every noise, no matter how muted, feels deafening and you try not to flinch as you drag yourself towards the mouth of the tent. You don’t have time to prepare yourself for the carnage waiting for you across the camp ground, you can’t think about the fact that people you love have been torn apart and murdered while you cowered away frozen in fear.

The grip you have on your emotions, your sanity, is fragile, but in your terrified hysteria, you understand one very important thing - they could come back at any moment, and you cannot be here when that happens. 

You cannot stop and cry for your friends, you cannot afford to break down when you see their bodies hacked up and scattered around you - you won’t even look - you just have to take the car keys fisted in your right hand, get to your boyfriend’s truck and get the fuck away from this nightmare as quickly as those wheels can take you. 

Crawling on your hands and knees you slowly pry open the tent flap, biting your lip and wincing at the quiet hiss of the zipper. 

The cold night air hits you like a slap in the face, but it’s nothing compared to the overwhelming coppery tang of blood that settles on the tip of your tongue as you breathe it in. You bite down on your whimper, squeezing your eyes shut and forcing your leaden limbs to move - you can’t afford to stop now, you have to get away.

You won’t look, you won’t look, you won’t-

“I was wondering when you’d finally show yourself.”

Ice douses your system, your heart lurching. Your eyes shoot open, darting towards the source of the voice - there, leaning calmly against the thick trunk of a tree only a few feet away from you is a man. Tall and slender, with dark hair and delicate features, you’d probably go so far as to call him pretty if it wasn’t for the blood splattered garishly across his pale skin and the teasing grin tugging at his lips. 

Absolute terror renders you helpless as he pushes away from the tree and takes a single, calculated step towards you. “Kuroo and Bokuto won’t be long, they’re just finishing up with your friend.” His pretty smirk widens as your eyes well up with tears and a gasping sob finally rips its way free from your chest, “but I don’t think they’ll mind if we get started without them.”

You’re following the well trodden path, praying to god that it’ll lead you back to the road, to any kind of safety. The shouts and screams behind you died out a few minutes ago, but you can’t let yourself think about what that means - it’ll only slow you down and you’re so close.

“Wait, wait, stop! We ha-have to go back!” the girl cries, trying once again to pull you to a stop. “My friends-”

“I’m sorry,” you pant, glancing across at her - and you are. Her eyes are wide and terrified, swimming in a pain you know all too well. It’s selfish and cruel, and it’ll tear her apart just like it has you, but if you let her go now… “It’s too late for them, we need to keep-”

“Baby, you know you can’t hide from us!”

Bokuto. Your heart seizes just as the girl shrieks, and you risk a glance over your shoulder, slowing just a faction. 

They’re closing in, all three of them, less than twenty yards away.

Panic and desperation bite at your nerves - you can’t let them catch you, not now, not when you’re almost free. But your body is aching, your muscles on fire and your stamina is shot to pieces. You’re on your last legs and they know it. They don’t even have to run anymore, they’ve worn you down completely - it’s a miracle you’re still standing.

And it’s childish and petulant, but you just want to scream and cry and yell and beat your fists against the ground because it’s not fucking fair!

You were so close.

Your grip around her wrist slackens just a touch, and the girl takes the opportunity to rip her hand free from yours. You expect her to run, to flee like a bat out of hell and leave you crumpled in the dust, but instead she turns to you with a withering glare, “This is all your fault. You brought them here. You did this.”

The accusation hits you like a slap, but before you can even open your mouth to protest (she’s not wrong, you know she’s not wrong) she grabs you by the shoulders and with all the strength she has left, shoves you back in the path of your pursuers. You stumble from the force of the blow, not expecting it, and for a moment you feel yourself start to fall, instinctively curling in on yourself to protect your belly-

Strong arms catch you before you can hit the ground, pulling you against a warm, muscular chest. “Gotcha,” Kuroo breathes, his tongue darting out to lick at the blood splattered across your cheek.

Vaguely, you register Bokuto’s low, furious growl as he launches forward, his axe raised high. The sharp, piercing screams are cut off quickly - violently - as he buries it in her neck with a snarl. He swings again and her head tumbles clean off to bounce across the forest floor, but he keeps going, swinging again and again and again until her body is nothing but a bloody, mangled mess for the animals to scavenge. 

Your vision blurs, and it takes you a moment to realise that it’s tears welling up in your eyes as Kuroo’s hands run up and down your sides, drifting protectively across the gentle swell of your stomach. “You did good, kitten,” he coos, Akaashi and Bokuto coming up either side of you. “But it’s time to come home now, don’tcha think?”

A hand cups your cheek, drawing you to meet Akaashi’s twisted, lovesick expression, “Gotta reward our pretty little girl for playing her role so well,” he murmurs, his thumb gently stroking the delicate skin. 

“Maybe we can fuck another kid into her,” Bokuto adds with a grin, his previous rage all but forgotten, sated along with his bloodlust thanks to the butchered corpse lying a few yard away. His golden eyes, half lidded and burning with lust, flicker across your face for just a moment, drinking in every last drop of crushing defeat and despair before his lips crash down on yours in a savage, bloody kiss.

This was nothing but a game to them - one you never had a chance in hell of winning. 

[yinyangswings]

Hanging off the Ledge

Fandom: Assassin's Creed Unity

Characters: Arno Dorian, Reader, Elise de la Serre (mentioned)

Pairing: Arno x femReader

Notes/Warnings: Implied thoughts of suicide, drinking, mention of vomit, used Google translate for my French so forgive me on that

Word count: 3088

Summary: You knew that there would always be trials when you fell in love with Assassin Arno Dorian. Knew that he had demons within him. What you didn't know was that your own demons would rear their heads at a vulnerable moment after an argument with him. Nor did you know that it would be Arno who finds you standing on the ledge of the South Tower of Notre-Dame, staring down at the streets of Paris.

She wandered around the streets of Paris. The moon mingled with the lamp light, the sound of men singing from the bars, dogs barking, a cat hissing from an alleyway.

She didn’t really notice.

“You’re going to get yourself killed if you keep being reckless like this, Arno!”

“For fuck’s sake Elise, I’m not a child!!”

She frowned, wrapping her arms around herself. The argument itself wasn’t a new one. She thought he was being reckless and he, as usual, didn’t appreciate being coddled. And if she was being truthful with herself, this hadn’t been the first time he had called her Elise by mistake. Right after she had died, he would call her that on a nearly daily basis. She had red hair. Elise had red hair. For a man who had been drinking away his sorrows, it hadn’t been a surprise to get the both of them confused. But as a few years had gone by and he had grieved correctly he had stopped. She had thought, naively apparently, that maybe he was beginning to move on. When they had gotten together she had thought that maybe he actually loved her. That, while Elise would always have some part of his heart, which she had expected, she could share with the ghost of his former lover.

But that seemed like it was a lost cause.

He doesn’t love you. He loves Elise. He’ll always love Elise over you. If he could save her by sacrificing you, he’d do it without hesitation.

She felt her eyes begin to burn and she roughly rubbed under them, pointedly ignoring the voice whispering in the back of her mind, but was pushing into her mind like a nail. She slowed when she found herself in front of Notre-Dame, the large building looming in the square. It wasn’t a church anymore. Some cult now ran it. The Cult of Supreme Being, if she remembered correctly. It was dark, signifying no one was likely in there.

Perfect.

She worked the door open and slid into the shadowed building. She remembered being a child and coming here once with her father and brother. It had been a beautiful cathedral, the stained glass glistening down upon the pews, the statues, the soft hymns of the choir.

She had gotten in trouble for staring too long, but she couldn’t help it. It had been a comfort for her.

It was now a shadow of what it once was. A daily reminder of the mistakes of this country. Of the change that had happened.

Just like you. You’re a mistake.

She found herself walking up the stairs in the back, her footsteps echoing despite being as quiet as she could. Several staircases, unlocking some doors, and climbing more stairs later she found herself in one of the towers, staring at the bells.

It was so quiet, only the wind passing through the room seemed to sing its song. She slid her hand across the one bell near her, feeling the chill of bronze soak into her hand. She jumped when her foot kicked something and she looked down to see a small crate of...wine bottles?

“Oh for God’s sake. Really?” She muttered, bending down to look at it more closely. It looked like someone had had the idea that no one would look for wine in an abandoned church.

Well...at least no one who wasn’t an assassin and knew how to pick locks.

She hesitated for a moment before she flipped the bottle over and looked at the label. It wasn’t even a good year. But it would do. She worked the cork out and took a swig, grimacing at the taste. She took another swig.

You’re useless. It’s no wonder your father died hating your existence. Why your brother died hating you.

And another.

You’re a disgrace to the Creed and the Brotherhood.

And another. The wine tasted bitter and she knew that she should stop, but it was helping with the pain, numbing it.

Arno will never love you. He will never see you as anything more than a replacement.

She coughed violently as she choked on the wine, not able to tell if the burn in her eyes was because of that or something else. She sank back, sniffling slightly and coughing at the burn. The voice was relentless.

Usually she could ignore it, plaster on a smile and carry on her day. But now…

Now…

Wouldn’t it be better if you just ended it?

As though to bolster the suggestion a sharp breeze rushed past her, creating a mournful sound through the tower she was in and she looked towards the opening.

And she took a step forward.

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

Arno Dorian was not in the greatest of moods as he jumped from roof to roof. The argument was still fresh in his mind. He understood Y/N’s point of view on the whole thing, but he felt that he wasn’t a child that needed to be coddled. He was an assassin, just like her. He hadn’t appreciated her scolding him, but looking back it hadn’t been a critique but more of a worry of hers. And he yelled at her, making her leave their room and the Café. Which was why he was running around Paris like a lunatic in the middle of the night looking for her to apologize. He had considered waiting at the Café but after three hours, he began to grow worried. Even at her angriest, she hadn’t been gone that long.

His desperation was growing in stature when she wasn’t in any of her normal spots that she would go to. He was about to head back and see if she had made it back to the Café when the moon peeked out of the clouds and illuminated Notre-Dame. He spotted a flash of red on the top of the South Tower. He stumbled to a stop, looking up, squinting to get a good look, before hurrying over to the church, making short work of getting to the top.

Sure enough it was Y/N, sitting on the railing of the tower. She glanced over her shoulder, before looking back out towards the city.

“Bonjour Arno.”

“There you are.” He huffed, landing on the roof of the tower, a frown on his face. He took a step and blinked as he kicked a wine bottle, watching it roll away from him.

“...Fancy a drink tonight?”

“Casse-toi. Like you’re any better.” Y/N slurred, taking another swig from another wine bottle, swaying slightly in the wind.

���Y/N, get off the ledge.” Arno said evenly, despite his heart threatening to pound its way out of his chest. “You’ll fall, Cherié.”

She cackled, though there didn’t seem to be any humor in her voice.

“Wouldn’t that be…” She hiccuped. “Wouldn’t that be une tragédie? I’m sure my funeral would have a grand total of...one attendee; moi! They might even bury me, or they’ll just dump my body into the Seine.”

She laughed again though he frowned.

“Y/N.”

She glared at him, before rolling her eyes, and pointedly ignoring him, taking a swig from the bottle in her hand. She was silent, staring at the few people of Paris wandering around, unaware of the two assassins sitting above them.

“Suppose I’d need to avoid some random passerby though, oui? Can’t...can’t hurt an innocent because of the Creed.”

It was as if cold water had been dumped on him.

She couldn’t mean...she wasn’t seriously considering...

“Y/N, get off the ledge.”

It wasn’t a gentle request anymore. She scoffed, standing like a child who was being called home during a riveting game of tag and didn’t want to. She swayed and stumbled on it, drawing closer to the edge.

“And if I do that by jumping off? No stacks of hay down there that I can see.” She asked good naturedly, her voice amazingly calm.

“Y/N, don’t joke like that.”

“Who’s saying I’m joking?” She hummed, twirling in an unsteady circle, swaying backwards. Arno dashed forward, grabbing her arm and yanking her back onto the roof, the bottle falling out of her hand and disappearing over the edge. He could only hope it didn’t hit anyone below as his arms folded around her, holding her close as she began to fight against him.

“Avez-vous perdu la raison?” He snapped. “Why would you even consider killing yourself?!”

“Because the place would be better without me!”

Arno staggered backwards as she kicked at his legs, his mind reeling, trying to catch up with the situation, but unable to comprehend it.

“What are you talking about?! Do you know how devastated we’d be if you died?!”

“Who, Arno? Who would fucking miss me!?” She cried, fighting against him. “My family is gone, Arno! My brother died hating me because of the reason I was even brought into this world! Father hated me because I killed Mother! Name on fucking person who would care if my brains splattered on the steps of Notre-Dame below!”

“Me!”

To that she let out a laugh that could have been a sob.

“You? YOU!?” Her voice went into hysterics. “You don’t give a damn about me! You never did!”

“Y/N, what’s gotten into you!? Of course I-”

“I’M NOT ELISE!”

He went still and he released her in shock. She stumbled away, but didn’t attempt to jump off the ledge again. She seemed to curl into herself, tears sliding down her face as she looked at him.

“You think...you think I’m stupid? Or blind? You don’t think I don’t know that you see Elise every fucking time I fucking turn and you see my hair, or when we spar, or...or argue? You think I’m that blind to not see that ache in your eyes every damn time you even look at me?? For fuck’s sake Arno, you’ve called me her damn name tonight!” She inhaled sharply, trying to stop crying, but failing. His eyes darted from side to side, replaying the argument earlier in his mind, before his eyes widened.

“Y/N, I didn’t-”

“Do you know how much it hurts trying to pretend I’m happy, when I’m reminded daily just how unnecessary and unwanted I am in this world? How much better you and this world would be without me? You want Elise back so much but I’m not Elise. I can’t be her. I can’t even begin to compare to her.” She whimpered. “I’m an assassin, but I was literally only born to be that because my brother was too sickly to be one. And despite that, despite working day in and day out to prove to him I could be a good assassin, I know that my father didn’t even want me! So...so why even bother being here? No one wants me, Arno. I’m just...just this big mistake...I...I…”

“Ma Cherié…” He said, his voice suddenly rough and he hurried over to her, pulling her to him again. She struggled for a moment, beating at his chest to get him to let go. He did not, digging his hand into her hair to keep her still. “Ma Cherié, no.”

“Let go, Arno!”

“No. Not until you listen to me.” He said. “I know I make mistakes. Too many to count. I hurt you so much without even realizing it. And you are the most patient woman to not murder me in my sleep for that.” He trailed off, swallowing noisily, “Oui, there are times I think about Elise, and wonder what life would be if she was still alive, and oui sometimes there are moments where I see her in you.”

She struggled against him again and he thanked the wine running through her right now. At least he could get her to listen to him.

“But that doesn’t mean I’d be better off without you. That I don’t want you here.”

She went still.

“I love you Cherié. I love you so much. You don’t deserve all this pain and weight I’ve put on your shoulders. Especially with Elise. There are similarities between the two of you, but the differences outweigh them. Christ...I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve anything you give me.”

He moved her head away, cupping her face in his hands, brushing away the tears that were sliding down her cheeks.

“I don’t deserve waking up with you curled up to me and if I try to leave the bed, you hold onto me because it’s not yet time to wake up in your mind. I don’t deserve listening to you hum as you’re fixing a stitch in our robes while leaning against me, or your laughter when you’re sparring and you’ve pinned me. I don’t deserve having you scold me for being an idiot on a mission, yet having my back on said mission. I don’t deserve any of that.”

She stared at him and he gave a desperate laugh, his eyes glittering in tears.

“But even though I don’t deserve it, every day you bless me with those tiny memories. How could I be better off without you?”

She inhaled sharply, tears sliding down her cheeks. She let out a soft keening sound, closing her eyes tightly as a sob tore out of her throat, silencing the voice that was begging her to just pivot and jump.

“I can’t Arno...I just...I…I...I don’t know what to do.”

She heard him inhale shakily and felt him kiss her brow. He seemed to be shaking as well. He pulled her back into a hug, and she didn’t resist this time, just sobbing, face pressed into his shoulder.

“...Let’s go home.” His voice whispered into her ear after several minutes, rough as though he was holding back emotions. She nodded weakly, and he lifted her and carried her away. Before she could even object, he was walking down the stairs and past the bells of Notre-Dame.

She didn’t remember how exactly they got back to the Café Theatrë. She did remember having to stop several times in alleyways to puke her guts out from all that damn wine she drank. She remembered that Arno’s touch never seemed to vanish. Whether it was holding her hair away from the vomit, rubbing her back as she heaved, or holding her close to make sure she didn’t fall flat on her face when she stumbled away, he was always touching her.

The last thing she really remembered was going up the stairs to their room, being laid down on the bed and feeling a kiss against her temple. The next thing she knew, the sun was beaming into the room and her head felt like it had been used as a drum.

She let out a groan and curled up under the blanket, trying to rid herself of the headache. Distantly she heard a soft chuckle and then the clink of a cup on the nightstand.

“Can’t say I envy you. I know from experience it isn’t fun. Though this is a change in roles from what I usually remember.” Arno’s voice said softly. She muttered an expletive and peeked her head out from the covers. Arno sat down on the edge of the bed, offering a smile.

“Whatimeizzit?”

“It’s close to noon. I figured with the amount of drinking you did last night, you earned your sleep.”

Y/N groaned, covering her face with the blanket again.

“Come on. Let’s get some food into you. I promise you’ll feel much better.”

“If I ever go towards a wine bottle again, you are free to spank me.” She muttered, finally leaving the cocoon of blankets and Arno smiled.

“Oui m'dame. Granted, while it is a tempting offer, I have a feeling that’s not going to happen anytime soon.” He said and she snorted, instantly regretting it and cursed under her breath. He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead before handing her a pastry.

“Eat.”

She wasn’t really hungry, but nibbled on it anyways, glancing over at him as he watched her. He was just staring at her as though making sure this wasn’t a dream and she was actually sitting in their bed alive and well, despite the hangover. He had dark bags under his eyes, which were curiously bloodshot. He was wearing the same clothes he had been wearing the night before. Almost as if he hadn’t...

“Did you stay up the entire night?” She muttered in surprise, realization dawning slowly in her hungover brain.

“...I wanted to make sure you didn’t try and leave to go back to Notre-Dame.” He finally said and she grimaced, looking away.

"Je suis désolé, Arno. I didn’t-”

“No! No, don’t apologize...just...is that the first time you’ve...that you’ve considered that?”

She shrugged.

“I’ve never gone as far as I did last night...but there’s always that voice in the back of my head saying that everyone would be better off if I wasn’t around...I don’t usually listen to it. But it was just...so loud last night. It drowned everything else out.”

“Y/N…”

She shifted away, embarrassed. He swallowed roughly before cupping her face, brushing a thumb against her cheek bone. She leaned into his touch, finally looking up at him.

“If it does happen again, if that voice becomes too loud?” He asked softly. “Find me. I meant what I said last night. I love you. I don’t deserve you, but I love you. And I’ll spend every day I have remaining telling you that. So find me, and I’ll put to rest any worry you have.”

She nodded, closing her eyes as he kissed her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, and then very delicately her lips, before resting his forehead against hers.

It wasn’t a clean fix. There were still problems that needed to be discussed. Issues that needed to be talked about. In the future he would have nightmares of wondering what if he hadn’t gone looking for her, if the next day they had found her body at the steps of Notre-Dame, and waking up in a cold sweat to check and see if she was still there next to him, still breathing. For a while after, she couldn’t go near Notre-Dame, couldn’t even take a sip of wine before her stomach revolted at the contents because it reminded her of that night.

But right then and there, it didn’t matter.

She was sitting there breathing, and in his arms.

And that was all Arno Dorian cared about.

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

Translations:

Bonjour : Hello

Casse-toi: Fuck off

Cherié: Sweetheart

Une tragédie: A tragedy

Moi: Me

Oui: Yes

Avez-vous perdu la raison: Have you lost your mind?

Ma Cherié: My Sweetheart

Oui m'dame: Yes Ma'am

Je suis désolé: I am sorry

[a-swcrdandshield]

Hiccup

Musings: To Fly and Never Come Down ( Hiccup Musings ); Likes:  Heart Skipped a Beat ( Hiccup Likes ); Fears: I’m no Hero ( Hiccup Fears ); Head Canons: Yet another fish-bone ( Hiccup HC ); Music/Audio: And the Dreaming ( Hiccup Playlist ); Aesthetic:  Flowers Growing Between His Ribs (Hiccup Aesthetic); Faceclaim: the stars are the trees in the forest ( Hiccup Faceclaim ); Self: Constellations Twisting in My Mind On My Skin ( Hiccup ); IC Interactions: You have Stories to Tell ( Hiccup Interaction ); IC Blogging: I’m a Bad Bitch You Can’t Kill Me ( Hiccup Blogging ); Dash Commentary: That is not Correct ( Hiccup Commentary ); Dash Games:  He’s just Another Shadow ( Hiccup Dash Games ); Open Starters: Welcome to Berk ( Hiccup Opens);

[babytaes]

The Arcane Angel

➳ 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: “ why is it that the good-looking people are always the ones with the mad minds? Several cases of dead bodies have been discovered, and they are all linked. They are often accompanied by a pair of angel wings.”

❥ 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: jeonghan x female reader

❥ 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: serial killer au, suggestive/smut, angst

❥ 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 6K

❥ 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: there are some suggestive and light smut scenes, if not comfortable with them please don’t engage. Profanity. we have smirky and seductive jeonghan, what a surprise. 

➳ part of the song series 

↳ Because we don't want to behave

Apparently you lost control, you never really had before

Say, ooh you changed, you're not the same

You're different than the way that I loved you

When you turned around and heard a piercing scream, a shadow appeared from the dark woods. You quickly grabbed your phone, switched on the flashlight, and cast it at the shadow.

You couldn't tell what it was because all you could see were some big black wings. You slowly rose with your jacket and stepped closer to the forest, texting Jeonghan to ask about his whereabouts.

“Babe, I didn't exactly follow your instructions about staying in the car, but there's something wrong here. Call me please.”

As you peered up from your phone, you heard a ping from across the ground; he was now in front of you, wings and all. His black eyes gazed into your soul as blood dripped down his wings.

As he quickly caught you and whisked you deep into the dark night, a chuckle escaped his throat.

You didn't notice when he started going missing at odd hours of the day, particularly at night, but you did notice a slight shift in his mood whenever he returned from whatever he was doing.

You didn't want to question him or worse, catch him in the act; you'd understand if he were to come forward, right-?

When you stop talking to Jeonghan, he stops sucking on your neck. He dipped his finger into your folds, eliciting a moan from your parched throat. As your body whimpered as your high passed over you, he moved his digits faster and faster.

You both went limp as you collapsed on the bed, gasping for air, your body aching for relief as you slid the water from the bed stand gulping it down.

Jeonghan returned from the bathroom with a washcloth and gently washed you up while kissing the swollen region and giggling as he saw your reaction.

The aftermath was the best part of sex. How could someone who was so rough and passionate yet be so caring and kind? You leaned against your arm, watching him clean up the dried cum that had splattered all over your and his body.

You blew him a kiss as he finished you up, tossing the cloth in the bin, and ran over to your side, arms open. You scooted over to him and closed your eyes as you wrapped your arms around his waist, nestling into his chest.

You mumbled a simple question against his skin, which perplexed him for a moment

“Do you love me?”

As he pampered you with several kisses on your forehead, finally landing on your lips as he drew you closer to him, his famous chuckles fell from his lips.

“I'll love you forever y/n” As you closed your eyes and remembered the unforgettable day when you met him on that fateful night, your chest began to move softly.

You were 23 and fresh out of college, ready to live and move anywhere you could, and South Korea was your first stop. Not only did you want to immerse yourself in the culture and admire the stunning architecture, but it was also time to reconnect with some old friends you made on a previous trip abroad.

You had a difficult time understanding the language and finding out the city's customs and all of their wonderful facets. However, with the aid of your college classes and friends, you were able to shape phrases and sentences that would assist you in getting around the area.

You texted your friend Min-Su as you walked to the airport entrance with your luggage, waiting for her car to arrive. A beep alerted you, and you dashed over to the white car, arms outstretched, as she parked and opened the trunk to load your belongings.

As she rushed over to you and wrapped you in a long-awaited embrace, she let out a cry. As you tightly clenched her waist and soaked in this quality time with her, a tear streamed down your cheek.

As you both jumped in the car, a grin grew on her face, and within minutes, you were blasting music from the aux, resuming where you all left off!

“Do you recall the group of boys we met the last time you were here?” You stood up from the sofa, glaring at her grin.

“If you start a sentence with sooooo, you know it's not going to be good.” As you sat back on the sofa, you heard her laugh, and a shadow came to a halt over your body and spoke.

“Well, that's accurate, but they've invited us to a kickback at their place. I did mention you were returning to town after a long absence.”

You jumped from the sofa and dashed to the fridge for a drink as a hand flew to her thigh as she rubbed it. You relaxed on the island while sipping your water, curious about her proposal.

“Will Jeonghan be there."  Min- Su's head whipped around, raising her brows and smiling, she chuckled in your direction.

“Perhaps you'll have to come if you want to find out.” You rolled your eyes at her and walked back to your temporary room, shouting at her as the door closed behind you.

“Text me the details, I'm going to lie down and rest my eyes, and fuck you!”

As you closed your eyes, you heard a snicker, followed by an “I love you too.”

As you blinked away the crust and sleep with your eyes half-closed, trying to block out the noise from the phone, your alarm goes off. Min-Su kindly entered the room and turned off the alarm for you. In response to her behavior, you waved your hand at her.

“Get your butt up, Luv. You must have been exhausted because you slept for three hours straight. “Jet lag.” You awoke suddenly and checked your phone; it had been 3 hours. As you trudged to your suitcase in search of something to wear, an unavoidable yawn slipped out of your throat.

When you reached your bulky suitcase, a stretch took over your body, and a hand flew to your face as you tried to relieve the pain.

“I'm not sure what you're wearing, buttttt you got an hour to get ready."

As you tried to process what she had said, your eyes flew up at her.

A damn hour, to cover up all this. Jeez

You ran over to your phone and switched on your speaker, hoping to speed up the process of getting ready after being awakened by the startling news. With voices coming through the speaker, you hurriedly applied your makeup and found some comfortable shoes before hurriedly throwing on a bag and heading out the door.

“I'm not going to lie, I'm blown away. I look so damn hot. See, Min-Su, you had nothing to be concerned about.” As you approached the entrance, she rolled her eyes at you, where you could already hear voices and music blasting.

Here we go

You cursed yourself as you remembered that you hated going to these parties when Min-su opened the door and was greeted by shouts of random shouting. You didn't like loud noises, and many people made you feel uneasy, but you were always there to have a nice time.

You clutched Min-Su's hand as she led you to the kitchen, which smelled strongly of booze. You noticed a familiar group of people approaching you from down the hall. When you realized who it was, a grin spread across your face.

“Is that Y/N, THE Y/N, it's been a long time, and we've missed you dearly.” Cheeky Seokmin hugged you with open arms, and as you returned the hug, more of the other members came into the kitchen looking for you.

Except for one male, everybody received their fair share of hugs about 5 minutes later. You noticed his figure leaning against the kitchen door frame, sipping whatever he was drinking and paying no attention to you. He had the same appearance as before, except now he had black locks cascading down the front of his forehead. He turned to you with a smirk on his face, eyeing you up and down until he left the room.

So we're playing this game are we now.

When excused to go get some "juice," you swallowed the bitter taste and let out an enthusiastic yell as you flew your hands up in the air, gathering another drink and chasing the prey out the back door towards the pool.

You were already stumbling out the door, even though you had only had two drinks. As you turned around with the biggest smile on your face, a hand landed on your back.

As he shifted you to the closest chair he could find, a perplexed Seungcheol kept you steady. He sat you down and looked you in the eyes. You weren't yet wasted, but you were on your way there, and a few more drinks would have put you out.

When he gave you his cup and urged you to drink, you looked up and took it, perplexed.

“Don't worry, it's just water,” says Seungcheol

You took a swig and chuckled at him as you gasped at his remark.

 “Wait, so the famous Seungcheol isn't drinking?”

“No, hold up, I'm the "designated driver," which means I've just had one drink so far. Someone has to keep an eye on these boys.” He rolled his eyes at you and turned to face the other partygoers who were dancing to the noisy yet soothing music.

A hiccup escaped your throat when you caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye. He was looking fucking good once more. You set your cup down and stood up, bowing to Seungcheol and thanking him for the short conversation.

You gathered your courage and approached him; it was almost as if he was teasing you as if he was playing a game with you. When all you wanted to do was fu-

He had already walked up the stairs, waiting for you as you reached the back door before you could reach him. As you ascended the stairs, you saw him reach the last room and excused yourself through the crowd.

“Hello, Y/N, it's been a long time since we've seen each other.” You walked into the room to find him casually typing on his phone on the bed frame.

You sat on the opposite side of the bed, shutting the door, and crossed your arms, laughing at his remark.

“I admire how you put on this show when you begged me to return this summer. “Something must have changed,”   When he looked up from his phone as he got out of bed and approached you, he had a devilish grin on his face.

He took a step closer to you, almost whispering, as he stood over your small frame.

“Says a lot for someone who was basically begging me to fuck them senselessly. “Did you miss something or?” When you grabbed his shirt and yanked him closer to you, he licked his lips. 

“How about we pick up where we left off and see if you can keep your promise.” He pushed you down on the bed and kissed you without breaking the kiss as you tossed his clothes to the side as the last words left your mouth.

He looked up at you with carnivorous eyes and spoke loudly until he hit your core.

“Oh, this is going to be so much fun; I'm so glad you're back.”

And with that, you guys were back to being your usual horny selves.

As you slowly open your eyes and search the room for Jeonghan, you stir in your sleep. It was pretty early in the morning, so he must have gone out.  Your hand grabbed the television remote and turned it on.

The news lady began speaking as you were distracted by your phone, oblivious to the events she was discussing. You dialed Jeonghan's number to see where he was. To be honest, you miss seeing his face first thing in the morning and before he goes to work.

(In News Voice) “According to recent reports, the Arcane Angel has struck once more. At 4:30 a.m., a young man's body was reportedly discovered at the scene off of 3rd Street on Seoul Ave. We've just received news that another pair of angel wings have been discovered at the crime scene, coated in the blood of the deceased. This is the third body this month, for a total of eight bodies in the last three months. To the neighborhood, we ask that you remain safe while we investigate who is responsible. Now let's talk about the weather.” 

You looked up from your phone and gasped at her words; this jerk has yet to be caught. You recall a similar case from when you first arrived a few years ago. And you thought they'd figured it out by now.

The thought of their intentions made you shiver. You took a brief breather before getting out of bed and walking to the bathroom, where you stripped off your clothes and entered the shower.

It wasn't long until you heard the door open and a few voices, as you scrubbed your body trying to figure out who it was. “Maybe he didn’t go to work, you never know with him”

 As you finished up, turning off the water and getting out of the shower, a grin crept across your lips as you heard the bedroom door open and a familiar voice ringing in your ears.

Jeonghan guffawed and dashed to your side, hugging you closely as you wrapped yourself in a robe, pouting as he leaned his head on your shoulder.

“You should have left it open; you know all access for my eyes only.”

You slapped his chest and turned to face the mirror, attempting to do your skincare. Jeonghan wrapped his arms around your neck and kissed you deeply. As your eyes were rolling, you let your neck fall into his arms.

Still, in ecstasy, you let him pick you up and put you down on the counter after he united your rob and tossed it to the side.

“The fact that you can't just let me do anything I want without it leading to more. Aren't you such a needy person?” You chuckled as he rolled his eyes at you, and as your back slumped against the mirror, trying to catch your breath, he started to eat you out while spreading your legs.

As he pulled yourself closer to his mouth in an attempt to build more tension, a cry escaped your throat.

As you tried to talk, you whimpered. “Hannie... faster—faster-fast.  As you held on to his hair for support, your words failed to come out. As he pinned you down, he started to lick harder, and slick juices poured out of you as you panted.

He cleaned the cum off the back of his hand and sucked up the remainder while he laughed at your disheveled appearance.

“Whenever I do that, you literally fall apart.  Also, get ready because I want to take you out today have”

As you walked out the bedroom door, he gave you another kiss on your wet core. You shook your head and gently got up, you laughed and called out to him, tightly securing the robe around your body.

“You can't just spring that upon me after what you just did. Also, It's not my fault you're so good at it.”

You came out of the bathroom in a casual outfit and moseyed over to the sofa, where you were surprised to see more people than you had expected. Mingyu, Hoshi, Joshua, and Seungcheol were all laughing on the sofa, much to your surprise.

You waved to everyone before sitting on Jeonghan's lap and whispering in his ear.

“If I had known there was company, I would have been quieter.” He replied with a chuckle into your ear.

“It's not because I had to prove to them who is mine and who can satisfy you as well as I can. No, it's not me.” As you lay on his lap, shielding your face, he kissed your temple and wrapped his arms around your waist.

As the discussion progressed, the subject of the Arcane Angel crept into the conversation, and everyone's expressions fell silent. You entwined your hand with Jeonghan as you gazed down at your arms. You spoke and looked at the others.

“Do you think this guy will ever approach us; we have no idea what his intentions are. He was pursuing young males last I heard.” As you looked at Jeonghan shaking his head, you felt a grip on your palm.

Why did they not want to talk about this?

 “Why don't we go out now?” Jeonghan said, tapping your arm. “The mood is dropping, and I'd like to hang out with my girl.”

You grinned and stood up, grabbing a coat from the rack and saying goodbye to everyone when you heard Jeonghan calling out to his friends.

“Please don't make a mess, and remind Joshua of tonight; we don't want anyone to be late.”

Joshua gave him a thumbs up and stood there watching as we shut the door behind them, leaving the house silent

As you got into the car, you held Jeonghan's hand as you pulled out of the driveway humming as he entered the lanes.

“So, what were you and Joshua talking about?” “Do you mind if I come?”

As he considered his extracurricular behaviors, he caught a glimpse of your pouty face and broke down inside.

With a shake of his head, he expressed his dissatisfaction

“Not this time, love, me and the guys... we have a meeting” You scowled at his remark as you cocked your head to the side. He locked his gaze on you once more, tightening his grip on you as you crossed your legs aimlessly, staring out the window, oblivious to his presence.

He has gotten good with lying, hmm?

“Babe, please look at me.” As you guys walked into the park, he jumped up and down. You laughed and didn't seem to notice his movements. If you're going to be so mysterious, I suppose I'll follow suit.

As you filmed the scenery with your camera pointing towards the lake, little ducks emerged from the water and walked towards you both. You cooed at the baby ducks waddling around the mother as you walked over to them.

As you got closer to the birds, you talked softly to the smallest one, smiling as you returned your gaze to Jeonghan.

“You know little one, don't get a boyfriend because all they do is lie and hide secrets from their lovely girlfriend.” When you turned around and saw Jeonghan, a grin appeared on your face.

As he looked down on you with a sulky smile on his face, you instantly chuckled and hugged him, telling her that you were just... partly joking.

“I c-could bring you if you really want to go so bad.” However, you must stay in the car.” You leaped into the air and kissed him on the cheek before sprinting past him to a grassy open field.

As you sat out your picnic spread waiting for your smiley boyfriend, you smiled as you saw him jogging up to you.  He arrived and sat down, removing the food from the basket and clearing space for the meal.

You took out two wine glasses, one of which you passed to him, and afterward you went to get the champagne. He watched you with fascination as you poured champagne into his glass.

“Cheers to this beautiful day, and thank you from the bottom of my heart for bringing me on this ride. I believe we both agree that this was something we all needed. With this maniac on the loose, things have been tense, but I'm glad I have you to help me stay safe through it all, I love you.”

He draws you tighter to him and smashes his lips on you instead of his playful smirk that he usually has on his face when you get all gushy. As you scoot closer to him and close in on the empty space, his tongue slips in and out of your mouth

As he caressed your face and patted the open space between his thighs, he pulled back and massaged your head. You slid closer to him and sat in between his lap, kissing his hand lightly and resting your head on his chest, soaking it all in.

It was late at night, about 12 a.m. The atmosphere was much darker than it appeared on the surface. As he pulled into an empty parking lot overlooking a forest, you peered over at Jeonghan. You couldn't tell who was there, but the other boys' cars were familiar.

With a smile on his face, Jeonghan switched off the car and faced you.

“First and foremost, as I previously said, you must remain in the car. I and the guys have this meeting and we will be out late. So, if you get tired or need to return home, I'll leave my keys with you. I'll be able to get a ride home with Joshua. If you get hungry, I have left some snacks in the back. “Are you sure?”

You cocked your head and shook your head, trying to figure out what was going on.

“What are you guys doing in the woods for a “meeting?” It seems suspicious, and it will take that long. Tell the others not to stay out late because the Arcane Angel is still out there.”

He laughed as he rolled his eyes at your joke and took a bag from the back.

“Out there is a little cabin, So it's not just meeting on a  grassy patch. And I'm not sure why they picked that name for him-- I mean for them. I suppose it's catchy. But don't worry about me; I'm capable of looking after myself.”

You snickered as you reclined in your chair, pulled out your iPad, and opened Netflix.

“If you say so, don't forget to kiss me before you go. Remember those movies where the girlfriend kisses the man and then gets murdered? That is something I do not want to happen.”

“I swear, you're such a drama queen.” He kissed you repeatedly before opening the door and waving to you as he approached the other boys near the car. He turned around and waved before walking into the woods.

You shut yourself in for a few hours by turning on the drama you were currently watching. Knowing you, it was only a matter of time before you finished the series, and this quiet time provided you with enough opportunity to do so.

Before you let loose and relax, you took out the snack bag and pulled out some chips, then hit play and settled in for the ride.

 As you turned off your phone, you rubbed your eyes and yawned. When you looked out the window, it had sufficiently darkened, and you checked the time, it was 2 a.m. To get some fresh air, you rubbed the back of your neck and opened the car door.

You gently jumped out and stretched while allowing your legs to regain some energy. You heard a scream coming from the direction of the forest as you walked around for a while. You were startled, but not completely terrified.

As you rushed to the car, grabbing your phone to record for evidence, another scream echoed from the forest.

Maybe it was the Arcane Angel? Imagine the headline, the stunning Y/N Y/L/N caught the Arcane Angel. How cool.

You grabbed your jacket and threw it on and ran towards the direction of the forest, switching on your flashlight to aid you in the moonlight.

Stay in the car, my ass.

As you aimlessly walked through the forest looking for something, you could hear the crisp leaves under your feet as you stomped on them, offering small entertainment. As you move deeper into the trees, you put your hand in your pocket and hug your cold body even tighter.

Why the fuck are they so deep. remind me to not come to these “meetings” anymore

A shadow crossed your path before you could process what had happened. It was hard to tell what it was, but it was moving quickly. It was almost gliding, more like flying.

When you turned around and heard another piercing scream, a shadow appeared from the dark woods. You flung your light at the shadow.

You couldn't tell what it was because all you could see were some big jet-black wings. When you smelt something in the breeze, you took a step back and scrunched your brows in disgust.

It smelt rotten.

When you looked around, you heard more strange sounds that perplexed you. You weren't about to become a statistic. You cursed to yourself when you sent a text to Jeonghan.

“Babe, I didn't exactly follow your instructions about staying in the car, but there's something wrong here. Please call me.”

As you peered up from your phone, you heard a ping from across the ground; he was now in front of you, wings and all. His black eyes gazed into your soul as blood dripped down his wings.

As he quickly caught you and whisked you deep into the dark night, a chuckle escaped his throat.

You screamed and thrashed about in an attempt to free yourself from his clutches, shouting to the dark night for help. Nothing worked, and as you soared through the air, not daring to look up at the figure, you knew you were in for a long trip.

When you knew you were bound in a chair and blindfolded, a chuckle escaped your mouth. From the other side of the wall, you heard a "whoosh" sound. You struggled to spin around to see who it was and what it was after.

“You know, this whole thing makes me laugh so hard. This is what happens when you're nosy. You remember, the nosy ones always die first.”

Before you could process what was happening, a figure appeared in front of you and removed your blindfold. You blinked a lot, trying to take in the light when looking at the person in front of you.

“Fuckin Jeonghan, I knew it was true; my suspicions were right. At the very least, you could've at least been more secretive about it.”

He gave you a puzzled look and coughed at you as he leaned in his chair in front of you.

“Wait, tell me what you're talking about. You knew who I was all along.”

You laughed and threw your head back, unable to believe what you were seeing in front of you. You smirked as you crossed your legs.

As Jeonghan looked at you, a gust of wind came out of nowhere, causing you to break free from the rope spinning around the wisp of cloud, exposing your true identity to Jeonghan.

"Witchcraft"

As he took in the scene in front of him, he gasped and staggered back. As he scrambled to his feet, attempting to appear presentable in front of you, he struggled to get the words out. You chuckled at him and shook your head.

“This one isn't going to sit well with the Council.”

You ran your hand through your hair and shook off the dust from your chilling entrance.

You crept up to him, crossing your arms and placing your fingers all around his neck, soaking it all in. You didn't expect him to learn about you so quickly, but I suppose things happen.

He shook his head and swept his hand through his hair, still perplexed by what had occurred.

“All right, before you start talking, let me get to start. Who are you, and what did you do with my girlfriend, and who the hell do you think you are?" 

You came to a halt and slowly turned around, chuckling in his direction. You leaned in close to his face, whispering something into his ears. The atmosphere had darkened by at least a factor of ten.

“Well, your "girlfriend" is still right here, if you must know. She's just gone for the time being, and I'll explain.   You're welcome to get a drink. I heard you and your "gang" were on their way to a meeting. “How are things going?”

He stood there watching as you talked directly into his ears; he wasn't sure if he liked this new version of you, but it was certainly sexy when you explained your part in the story.

“So, Mr. Yoon, where shall I begin?” Waiting for his answer, you cocked your head to the side and crossed your legs.

“Why don't you just tell me, how do you know the Council?” he thought as he raised his eyes to the side.

As you told him the story, you leaned forward and winked at him with an "ah" smile on your face.

“First and foremost, if you must remember, I am not from here. I'm from The Ode, a small town that you've probably heard of. Anyway, you're a bit of a prick, you know. You cause trouble wherever you go, and when you do, it always falls on our people. Aren't you aware of that-?”

“Well, it is my specialty you know,” Jeonghan smirked and snickered at you.

You rolled your eyes and motioned him to close his mouth with your hand.

“Anyway, The Council figured I'd be a good choice to keep an eye on you, kind of like a guardian angel.  BUTTTTT  I must admit, you have a knack for persuading people. To make it worse, I couldn't stay for long because I had to return to The Ode for mandatory training and other boring stuff.”

As you spoke, you looked at Jeonghan, and he focused on you as your words came out of your mouth.

“Last but not least, they assigned me to look after you after I completed all necessary training. The first time I met was the start of it all, you were still annoying back then-"

“Hey, I mean you still dated me” 

“I didn't mean to "date" you in the first place. Things just started happening and I was in too deep to get out. I'm not upset about it. I've had a wonderful time with you over the last few years, but I've strayed from the mission. The only reason I'm here is to keep an eye on you and keep you from getting into any mischief. Unfortunately, Iook at where we are.”

As he tried to hide his blush from you, he snickered. After that, he gasped and looked at you.

“So, were you sincere in dating me, or was it just part of the plan?”

When you explained yourself, you looked into his eyes. As you said, meeting him wasn't part of the plan, but you were happy you did. You loved his faults and all, even though he was an egotistical ass with a big ego.

“Yes, Jeonghan,” you said slowly as you shook your hand in front of him. I guess you have good hands and good flirting skills.”

“I mean, what else can I say-”

“Shh, I'm not done yet.”

He scowled at you, crossed his arms, and squirmed around like a child throwing a tantrum.

“All in all, I'd say. I'm not sure what will happen to me as a result of my huge disaster on this mission. It wasn't all bad, though. I had a great time with you and the guys and created some new memories that will last a lifetime. Perhaps I will convince the Council to let me stay for a while.”

He sprang from his chair and knelt at your side, pleading with you to do so.

“Please, Y/N, I don't know what I'll do without you.” He secretly peered up through one eye and put on a pouty smile in an attempt to win you over. You chuckled and shoved him to the ground, laughing at his antics.

“Sooo... Which do you want to know first, the good or the bad?'

“Bad news,” Jeonghan said quickly as he rose from the cabin chair.

“Well, the bad news is that we will have to move to a different area. You caused enough havoc in this one that the Council decided to cover it somehow.  The good news is that they're letting me stay; I think I had an effect on you.” You smirked and flipped your hair, laughing at him.

“And where did the guys go?  It's been a couple of hours. It’s 4 a.m. and they're still out?”

Jeonghan gasped and dashed to his phone, chuckling as he brushed his hand through his hair, dialing the boy's numbers.  When you came closer to the call, you could hear the boys' voices and different laughter. He gave you a sidelong glance and rubbed his head, avoiding eye contact.

“Soo bad news... We still have one more guy to deal with, and we can't just let him go. He'll be the last one, I promise. But we have to hurry because the sun is rising.”

Your face was pressed into your hands as you screamed and punched him in the shoulder. He raced around the room, avoiding your savage blows, before bolting out the door.

He spread his wings and teased you in the air as he spread his wings and hovered over you.

“Haha, you don't have any wings,” he teased as he blew raspberries at you. You won't be able to catch me.” 

This bitch really thinks I don’t have wings.

You covered your mouth to stifle the laugh that was escaping your lips, and before you could return the joke, you turned in the air, passing the moon quickly. As you smirked in front of Jeonghan, the rays of light shimmered on your velvety wings.

“So, what exactly did you say...?” 

You smirked at him and flew off into the darkness, yelling at him to hurry up.

He flew towards you, scrunching his brows and pouting.

“Heyy, that's not fair. Yours look way  cooler than mine.”

On your way to the boys' location, you saw Jeonghan flying far ahead of you. He was the sort to flaunt all of his tricks while flying.  As you peacefully watched him, he twirled and twisted in the air, gradually slowing down to fly alongside you.

“So, Y/N, would I have met you if I hadn't been so hot and a killer?” You sneered at his phrasing and pushed him away from you, which elicited a chuckle from him.

“To be honest, I'm not sure. I'm glad, though; you've improved my life in several ways. Living on The Ode became tedious after a while. I suppose you might suggest your heinous deeds drew me in.” You chuckled while covering your mouth, attempting to ignore the cringe that ran down your spine.

As you dropped to the ground, he grinned at you and took your hand, holding you close. He kissed your brow and extended his hand, which you gladly accepted and kissed.

“Now there's my lovely girlfriend.”

“So, what do we have here?” says Jeonghan. He walked up to the badly beaten man and knelt down, laughing at his terrified expression. As he looked up at Jeonghan, the man was terrified and panicked.

“Please let me go. I'm not going to do it again. Please don't kill me, I promise. "  As he turned to face you, Jeonghan cackled, his eyes narrowed into a lethal stare, and his mood darkened. When he looked up at him, the man's breath hitched in his throat. No... your th-the, The Arcane Angel,   As Jeonghan lunged at him and pulled out his heart, splattering blood everywhere as he held it in his hand, inspecting it, he let out piercing screams.

"Isn't it just satisfying, did you see him stuttering when he mentioned my name. The Arcane Angel. It's growing on me.

You look down at your shirt, realizing that blood has splattered all over it. As Jeonghan approached you, tossing the heart to one of the members, you shook your head at him.

He removed the blood that had fallen on your face with his clean hand. He smirked and kissed you on the mouth, wiping the blood from his wings.

“You're very sexy covered in all that blood,” he grinned as he looked you up and down.

You slapped his shoulder as you cringed at his remark.

“I know I am, but could we please hurry up?” I'm getting tired, and you guys still need to clean up this mess. I'll keep this one off the books, but let's get out of here before I lose my cool.” You threw them a pearly white smile as you sarcastically laughed.

The other members chuckled and nodded in agreement with you. You could see Joshua holding the lifeless man on his back as he, Mingyu, and a few others flew away, waving farewell to the rest of us made our way to the cars.

You looked at Jeonghan, who was wiping the rest of the blood off of him with some wipes he found in your bag.  You didn't mind his whole act, you concluded.

Some flaws I can live with.

As you skyrocketed through the air, waiting for him, you chuckled to yourself. He looked at you, puzzled, and threw the remaining wipes into his pocket before flying up to you grabbing your hand.

“Hey, why are you laughing at me?” 

“Because it's strange how quickly you switched it off. Like, go off actor” You bragged about him while raising your hand in the air and waving it around.

As he looked at you, he laughed and shook his head. He realized he had finally met someone who accepted him for who he was, wings and all. He loved your expressions as you continued to describe how he flew at the man like a lunatic.

He inched closer to you and put his finger over your mouth, suppressing your words.

“I know I looked cool, but let's talk about something more positive. Like where the hell we’re moving to, I didn't expect that."

“Oh, yeah, I didn't tell you, The Council will take care of that; all we have to do now is return to the Control Center in T-Minus 8 hours.”

He turned to face forward and said, "Oh," as you both approached the car. As you hopped into the car, sighing at the day before you, your wings both retracted in your backs. You planted a kiss on Jeonghan's cheeks before closing your eyes.

He took one look at your worn-out body and began driving towards home

Thanks for staying with me Y/N.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

➳ Navigate to the Maze

[amerrierworld]

Lost

Ocean’s 8 fanfiction

request: can i request something angsty and fluffy for tammy x reader?☺️ feel free to involve the whole ocean's 8 gang (they all ofc ship reader & tammy)

Summary: you get lost during a mission that turns dangerous and Tammy desperately tries to find you.

Characters: Tammy x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,786

Warnings: I hope this is what you meant with angsty :D Angst! Fluff! A bit of a near-death experience... but SFW and happy ending.

You held your breath, hiding in a dark, hidden alcove of the English countryside mansion. The building was massive, and very creepy, especially at night.

Your heart thumped in your ears as you registered low, hushed and angry voices down the hall from you. 

There were many jewels secretly kept hidden inside this mansion, locked away from the public that your team had gotten intel on. It was the one night that there were very few security guards around the place, and you and Constance had slipped in quietly.

However, you weren’t alone. 

A group of local thugs had similar plans, apparently, and somehow you had both arrived at the same time. Or they had already stolen the jewels and were now hanging around. 

Normally you wouldn’t be bothered by extra obstacles in a mission, but a loud bang had startled both you and Constance until you felt like you might be sick.

They had guns, and clearly weren’t afraid to use them, since the security guard was shot dead right on the front steps.

Immediately, Debbie had yelled in your earpieces from their hidden van outside to get back to the group. No amount of jewels was worth your lives, and you were grateful for her leadership. But you had gotten separated from Constance, and your earpiece had no reception where you were due to the thick walls and maze of a house, so now you were hiding by yourself, terrified.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, you thought, breathing hard to calm your nerves. If they saw you and considered you a threat, one shot and you were done for. 

All you had was a knife, and you didn’t think that would do much against a gun from a distance.

“Did ya hear something?” one stranger���s voice said, piercing the silence.

“Nah, probably just some vermin. This place is super old. No one else knows what’s hidden here,” another replied.

They were right around the corner, carrying flashlights. If they  took one step closer, they’d see you, and you’d be fucked.

A loud crash from a window breaking made all of you jump.

“What th fuck was that?” one hissed.

“Maybe some stupid local kids thinking they’re being clever. C’mon, let’s scare them away.”

Your heart was in your throat as you listened to them hurry away from your hiding place, and you nearly sobbed with relief.

-

“Tammy, get back here!” Debbie hoarsely whispered. The blonde mom-of-two ignored her, reaching into the back to grab a black hoodie and gloves. “You’re being so stupid.”

Constance had arrived by the van, out of breath, ready to collapse, but you were no where in sight. As soon as she explained that Y/N got separated and she couldn’t find you in the dark, Tammy had sucked in a deep breath and prepped to go in herself. 

“I don’t care, Debbie,” Tammy replied, stubborn as ever, “she’s in there alone and I’m not gonna let her die because of some thugs.”

“If you go in there, you’re both going to die!” Lou shouted, the other girls shushing her immediately. 

“Look, I’ll try her earpiece again, but all we can do is sit here and wait, alright?”  Debbie said, “they have guns, Tammy! This isn’t a game anymore.”

“Then you should’ve thought of that before we got here, Deb!” Tammy retorted. “I need to get her myself, I won’t let her die in there.”

With that, and all the courage she could muster, she jumped out of the vehicle and ran off before anyone else could stop her.

The mansion was surrounded by trees and forestry stretching out in a large plot of land. Tammy could see the lights of the strangers flickering through the windows and sneaked around the other side of the house. 

“You’re an idiot, Tammy,” Debbie said into her earpiece. “But I got Y/N’s location. I just can’t get her earpiece to work. You’ll have to find her.”

“Where is she?”

“East wing, the other side of where you are now. I don’t know what floor, you’ll have to look for her yourself.”

“Fuck,” she muttered. Then, an idea. Her kids once got in trouble for breaking a neighbour’s window when playing catch. Just this time, their idiocy could help her out.

She picked up a large rock and found a window close to her. She’d have to hide immediately and get inside somehow, but this would give her time.

“Okay I’m gonna distract them, keep an eye on Y/N for me.”

“Wh-what? Tam, what are you-”

One long swing and the window shattered with a crash. The rock rolled  around inside the room where it landed, and Tammy dashed off in the other direction. 

“Fuck this fucking job,” Tammy muttered to herself as she squeezed through a different open window. Then, into her earpiece, “Debbie, I’m retiring after this okay? No more criminality for me.”

She tried to remember what Constance had said when she saw you the last time before you got separated. It was eerily quiet as she carefully walked through the hallways.

“You’re close, Tammy, she should be right around the corner,” Debbie piped up. Tammy’s heart was beating rapidly, “I think she’s frozen in fear.”

Tammy felt guilty at the thought, she should’ve gone in with you, damn it.

When she found you, you had pulled out the knife in fear, only seeing a dark figure approach her. From what Tammy could tell in the dark, you were pale beyond belief, your eyes blown wide.

“It’s me,” Tammy whispered. Your knees nearly buckled at the sight of her, and you fell into her arms as a sob almost escaped you, but you forced yourself to be quiet.

“Tammy,” you croaked, hugging her tightly. She pulled away, saw how fearful your expression was, and was overcome with emotion. She kissed you, hard on the mouth, wanting to feel all of you, real and alive.  

“We have to get out of here,” she whispered, “Debbie says fuck the jewels.”

You giggled softly and nodded, letting Tammy grip your hand and pull you along.

“I’ve got her,” she said, pressing the ear piece.

“Good, now get the fuck out of there before we have to drag your bodies out.”

You were almost back at where Tammy had climbed in through the window, before Tammy pressed you back against the wall, into the shadows, cursing mentally at the sound of footsteps.

“Did you open this window here?” one voice said.

“No, did you?”

“It’s an old house,” a third stranger’s voice said, “no doubt it was already open. Don’t be so paranoid.”

“Hey, I could swear I heard voices.”

“That’s because we’re in the dark, and you’re a wuss. I told you not to shoot that guy but you didn’t listen.”

“He could’ve shot us!”

Their bickering went on, and Tammy looked at you, your eyes wide and pleading and afraid.

“Deb,” she whispered, barely audible, breathing into the earpiece, “we need help.”

“On it. Here goes.”

Immediately, loud sirens started up from outside, and the thugs jumped in fear.

“Fuck! The fucking police, are you kidding?”

“Some local probably ratted us out after the gunshot, damn it!”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

They practically flew themselves through the open window, breaking more glass. Tammy eyed them just around the corner, watching them run in the opposite direction of the blaring sirens.

“Come on and get back here, I can’t keep them on forever, otherwise real cops are coming to sniff this place out,” Debbie yelled into your ears. You grabbed Tammy’s hand, and ran.

As soon as your feet hit the grass outside, you ran like you’d never ran before, with Tammy close behind. 

The two of you almost missed the van, camouflaged as it was, if it weren't for Lou shoving open one of the doors, shouting over the sirens,

“Get in you sissies!”

You nearly cried with laughter and relief as she pulled the two of you inside, and the van sped away. Once you got on a real road again, Debbie turned off the sirens, and kept speeding up until you were sure the mansion was behind you.

You were in near hysterics, the relief of safety came flooding in and you collapsed in Tammy’s arms, her cheeks wet with tears.

Lou draped a blanket over your shoulders and the rest of the team scurried to the front of the van, trying to give you two as much privacy as possible.

“Alright?” Tammy asked you, and you nodded, despite the tears still spilling from your eyes. “God, Y/N, I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Me? When I saw you there in front of me, I was terrified that you were gonna get killed!” you exclaimed, voice rough from crying, “what did you think you were doing?”

“Saving you, you idiot,” she said, tightly holding your shoulders, “I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing!”

“Trust us, Y/N, we tried to make her sit and do nothing,” Lou piped up.

“Why didn’t you try harder?” you demanded, furious, “Tam, you could’ve died, and it would’ve been m-my fault,” you hiccuped with new sobs.

“You would’ve done the same for me,” Tammy retorted, eyes blazing. “Y/N, I love you. I couldn’t just sit and watch when I could do something about it.”

You shuddered, staring at her incredulously, your senses overwhelmed with fear, relief, love, worry. Instead of saying anything, you lunged forward and kissed her, hard like she’d kissed you, and Tammy sobbed into your mouth with relief.

The rest of the crew erupted into cheers and your face flushed red, burying your face in Tammy’s shoulder.

“Shut up you,” Tammy ordered them cheekily, “all that matters is we’re safe now. Fuck the jewels, right?”

“Right,” Debbie grinned.

“Wha- fuck the jewels? Really?” 

Constance stared at Debbie, mouth hanging open in sheer offence,  before tugging off her black beanie and turning it over. A handful of glittery diamonds and jewels tumbled out onto the floor. 

The group gaped at her, and she shrugged.

“I lost Y/N, and tried to find them, and then found this instead, before those thugs almost caught me. Don’t tell me ‘fuck the jewels’ when I nearly busted my ass getting these.”

“You’re a life saver,” you sighed, wrapping your arms around Tammy.

“Hey, I think it’s a win-win,” Constance put up her hands in defence, “we got our jewels, didn’t get caught, and Tammy got to save her damsel in distress.”

“Excuse me?” you said, flustered at the implication. Tammy grinned and kissed your cheek.

“All in all, a successful mission, I’d say,” Constance replied, crossing her arms and leaning back. 

Well, you couldn’t argue with that.

[oneofyatosfollowers]

Yatori Week 2021- Day 3

@yatoriweek2021

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32090953/chapters/79500055

Fanfiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13905660/1/Yatori-Week-2021

There was a cherry tree in the new neighborhood Hiyori moved to. 

It sat alone at the end of a small park, tucked away in the green bushes and trees. That’s where she met him. It was the day after the moving truck dropped off the last of their things at their new house down the road. Her mother had asked her older brother, Masaomi, to take her to the park since it had a playground. When he wasn’t paying attention, he threw the ball they were tossing too far over her head and it rolled towards the tree.

“I’ll get it!” She called. Masaomi, who was too invested in his video game, just waved. With a huff, Hiyori followed after the yellow ball, approaching the cherry tree. Once the ball was safely in her tiny hands, Hiyori stood. Suddenly, she heard sniffling. Alert and concerned, Hiyori looked around. She peeked around bushes and under benches until she realized the crying was coming from above her. Within the leaves and pink blossoms of the cherry tree, someone was crying softly. Hiyori’s heart sank when she realized it sounded like a little kid, just like her. Turning on her toes, Hiyori ran back to her brother with the intention of telling him, but she remembered her brother made fun of crybabies.

“I don’t want to play with you anymore!” Hiyori declared as she set the ball down at her brother’s feet. There must have been a break in the game because her brother gave her a look of shock and offense.

“Oh, uh, okay,” he said. Satisfied, Hiyori spun around and dashed towards the tree.

“H-hey!”

“I’m going to climb that tree!” Hiyori announced over her shoulder. She watched her brother pick up the ball and sit on the bench. Approaching the trunk, Hiyori slowed, feeling an odd sense of forbidding. She shook it off and stepped towards the tree, hands against the bark, and listened. Whoever was crying must have heard her yell her intentions and stifled their weeping. She huffed and looked around, spotting a rock right next to the tree that would make her just tall enough to reach the lowest branch. As she hauled herself onto her knees, nice oxfords scraping against the wood, Hiyori wondered if the person was nice. With a grunt she looked to the ground, furious with her mother for insisting she wear a dress to the park, then looked up. At first she couldn’t see anyone so she pouted.

“Hello!” Hiyori called into the pink, “I know you’re up here!” Her shout caused the leaves above her rustle. Someone flinched and was trying to readjust to make themselves smaller, instead the person had moved out from the branch they were hiding behind. Hiyori opened her mouth to point out their mistake, but thought better of it. As she continued her way further into the pink wonderland, Hiyori realized this person could be hurt. With another grunt, she sat on the branch and fretted; wishing she brought her capybara toy doctor kit. It would have been just like she practiced! Eventually Hiyori managed to climb up, and up, and up around the cherry tree until she was just under the crying child.

“Excuse me!” Hiyori’s shrill voice startled them and they whipped around to look at her. The boy’s eyes were a startling blue that stood out against the pink surrounding them. His long black hair was a major contrast too, it stalled Hiyori long enough for her to blink a couple times until she remembered her original goal.

“It’s mean to not answer, you know,” chided Hiyori as she settled more comfortably on the branch below him. When she met his eyes again she realized he hadn’t looked away the entire time. Did even blink those big blue things?

“Hello? Can you speak?” Hiyori tried again, this time a bit kinder. He hadn’t stopped crying since she sat down, tears rolled down his red cheeks in thick waves. No matter how he sniffed at his dripping snot or wipes under his eyes, he still looked just as miserable. She noticed he was wearing an off-white kimono, tied shut with a navy ribbon.

“Y-yeah I c-can talk,” the boy whimpered.

“O-oh.” Hiyori didn’t know what to say. Now that she heard his voice, his sorrow, Hiyori’s own lips started to tremble.

“No one -hic- asked y-you to come up he-re,” he hiccuped. That’s when Hiyori realized his eyebrows were knitted. He was annoyed with her.

“I thought you were hurt!” Hiyori defended, “I heard you crying!”

“I’m not crying,” the boy lied, pathetically. The challenge was clear on her face but the boy just let out a loud sniff and turned back around, pulling his knees tighter to his chest. Hiyori pouted again, which turned into a frown and she looked down. Up here, she couldn’t even see the ground. They were surrounded by nothing but pink and brown, the sounds of the world outside were muted as wind drifted through with a sweet scent. It was nice. She would have never come up here on her own- her mother did not condone rolling around in nature- but in any other circumstances this would have been amazing.

“Are you hurt?” Hiyori asked gently. There was a long pause before he shook his head, bangs wagging side to side, then he re-buried his face in his knees. Unsure of what to do, Hiyori played with her fingers, watching her legs swing back and forth. The thought of leaving crossed her mind but instead Hiyori crawled up next to him.

“H-hey,” he sputtered. Hiyori ignored him and situated herself right next to him, their legs dangling side by side. She watched patiently as he wiped his blotchy red cheeks then looked at her with that mild annoyance and baby pout. When he didn’t say or do anything more, Hiyori rubbed his back, hand moving up and down like her grandmother did for her.

“What’s your name?” She asked.

“Yaboku,” the boy said, “but my mom called me Yato.”

“What should I call you?”

“Um, Yato is fine,” he sniffed, “what’s your name?” He watched her pull back and stick her hand out to him with a smile.

“I’m Hiyori Iki!” She smiled as he took her hand and shook it. Yato’s fingers were sweaty and Hiyori wiped her hand clean on her dress.

“That’s a nice name,” Yato eventually said.

“Thanks,” Hiyori smiled. Her happiness quickly fizzled out when Yato just sniffed again and frowned at the ground. From this close she could see his eyes were puffy, his nose and cheekbones rubbed raw. It hurt her heart to see. No one should be that sad. Hiyori reached around him again, and pulled Yato into a hug.

“Shh, there there,” Hiyori comforted, “don’t cry. It’s okay.” The moment Yato’s head rested against her, his eyes instantly watered. She rocked him slowly, holding him tight as she shushed his sobs.

“What’s wrong?” Hiyori eventually worked up the nerve to ask.

“I miss my mom,” Yato lamented. He hiccuped and buried his face in her clothes, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

“Where’d she go?”

“She’s dead.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. My grandpa died recently too. Everyone was sad, I cried a lot too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Hiyori sighed, “So, what are you doing up here?”  

“I don’t want to be home, but I have nowhere to go,” he sniffed, “this is my mom’s tree.”

“Oh, did she plant it?” Hiyori asked. She leaned back in surprise and Yato moved away from her, but just slightly.

“No. She just liked it. A lot. We used to come here all the time.” He wiped his eyes even though he had stopped crying.

“That’s nice,” Hiyori said, “my family just moved here. So I’ll come here a lot too.”

“Really? You will?” Yato sounded so hopeful Hiyori couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah! Do you come here a lot too?”

“Everyday,” he sniffed, “if you want to play together, we can.” His face looked considerably clearer, he even smiled slightly. Meanwhile Hiyori beamed at the thought of having a brand new friend. Just as Hiyori opened her mouth to gleefully agree, her name was called somewhere below them.

“Hiyori!” Masaomi shouted, “come on, mom said we have to be home by four!” His voice echoed through the leaves and the two children watched his shadows dance against the pink. Hiyori’s mouth opened and shut before she looked at her new companion. Blue met brown as they communicated their reluctantness.

“Hiyori!” Masaomi shouted, a bit more panicked.

“Coming big brother!” Hiyori finally called back. Not wanting to worry him, Hiyori spun around and draped her stomach over the branch, kicking her feet until they met a foothold. It took her a lot less time to climb down but she looked up just before she vanished through the flowers.

“Yato!” She called up to him. It wasn’t necessary, he had been staring at her all the way down, but Hiyori just wanted to say it. Especially when- from below him- he looked like a spirit that belonged among the blossoms.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” She promised. The last thing she saw before she left was Yato’s smile and a wave.

The two become steadfast friends, closer than Hiyori had ever been with anyone her own age. They were practically inseparable; Hiyori making her way to the park at least once a day. Yato would always be there, it didn’t matter what time of day it was, he was always waiting for her at the bottom of the tree. For a while, Hiyori never questioned it, instead enjoying her time with her best friend every day, making up stories of pretend. Until she started her first day of elementary school and she passed by the park.

“Yato!” she called to her friend sketching in the dirt. His head popped up and that beaming smile instantly appeared at the sight of her.

“Hiyori!” Yato charged towards her. They met with their usual big hug, her backpack hindering his advances.

“Are you here to play?” He asked.

“No, Yato! It’s time to go to school!” Hiyori huffed. Confused, Yato cocked his head.

“School?”

“Yes! It’s this way, come on!” Hiyori grabbed his hand and tugged him along the park fence.

“But! I don’t go to school!” Yato fretted.

“Of course you do! Mom says all little girls and boys go to school at six years old,” Hiyori recited happily.

“I’m seven,” Yato informed. This surprised Hiyori, since the boy was much smaller than her, but there were more pressing matters to address. Yato didn’t have a uniform- still wearing that dirty kimono- but missing school was a big no-no.

“We have to go or we’ll be late,” Hiyori huffed. She continued to pull him but when they reached the end of the park,Yato gripped the fence and brought them to a halt.

“No, I mean I don’t go to school. My dad teaches me and my sister at home.”

“You can do that?” Hiyori gawked. She finally let go of him and watched his expression turn to a pout.

“Yeah,” Yato sighed.

“Hey that’s okay,” she rubbed his shoulder, “I’ll see you after school!” Hiyori promised. That seemed to cheer him up and he returned her wave as she jogged away from him. That promise stayed as they grew, Yato would be there when she walked to school and when she walked home. Hiyori’s mother let her stay at the park after school until dinner time.

“When do you go home?” Hiyori asked him once. He was covered in bruises and cuts again- apparently trying dangerous tricks on the playground- and his kimono was getting short and worn.

“When the lights come on.”

“Lights?” Hiyori questioned. Yato pointed to the streetlamps and Hiyori laughed.

“That’s called a street lamp!” She giggled.

“Well I didn’t know!” He huffed, suitably embarrassed.

“You don’t know a lot,” Hiyori said. She wasn’t trying to be mean, it was true.

“You should listen to your dad more when he teaches you,” she lectured. Yato just hummed and continued building their castle in the sand pit. Two springs later, Hiyori saw Yato wear something different for the first time. Just like their first meeting, he was sitting on his favorite branch. However, this time he faced her with a smile and a bruised cheek.

“Look at you!” Hiyori squealed. Climbing up the tree with the practiced ease of a squirrel.

“Me?” Yato cocked his head, holding his swollen cheek.

“You’re wearing clothes!” She exclaimed.

“I always wear clothes.” Yato was suitably confused this time and Hiyori rolled her eyes.

“Yeah a kimono.”

“My mom liked kimonos,” Yato said haughtily. That made sense. The one time Hiyori met Yato’s twin sister- shy to the point of avoiding all other people- she wore a matching kimono.

“Well you look good,” Hiyori complimented. She tugged on the orange capybara shirt and looked at his cargo shorts.

“Thanks! I found them!”

“Found them? In the store?”

“Uh,” Yato looked down, “yeah.” Despite how close they were, there was so much about Yato, Hiyori didn’t know about. But Hiyori wasn’t stupid, she tried to ask once she caught on, but he wasn’t a fan of that. But that didn’t stop them from getting closer.

“So, a haunted house, huh?” Yato snickered, “and what are you dressing up as?” As per tradition, Yato met her under the tree and walked her to school. Even when they -she- moved on to middle school a year ago.

“I’m not. I will be doing the entrance,” Hiyori stated. Spring brought on an annual happiness that could not be explained but Hiyori knew the sweet smell wafting through the air was all Yato.

“Come on Hiyori! No cosplay for me?” He teased, nose coming in far too close.

“Wha-? Cosplay!” Hiyori shoved him away, “And what’s for you?” She turned her burning face away as he laughed. They continued to playfully bat at each other until the school fence was reached and Hiyori fully pushed him away. Cherry trees were budding on her campus as the decorations for the culture fest were in full display. She stopped and stared at it, looking back at the boy who couldn’t even leave the park fence until a little while ago.

“Why haven’t you talked to your dad about coming here?”

“Hiyori,” his smile dropped and he looked to the side, “it’s fine. You know it’s for the best this way.”

“How can it be for the best? You want to, don’t you?” Hiyori pressed. As always Yato squirmed, shoulders sinking in.

“You know how he is, Hiyori. He’s just strict. It’s fine.”

“But-!”

“You’re gonna be late, you know. And so am I,” Yato shrugged. Hiyori pouted as he turned with a lazy wave over his shoulder. He thought he was so cool wearing all black and tying his hair up. With a huff, she rolled her eyes.

“I’ll see you later! Don’t forget what class I’m in!” Hiyori called after him. Turns out she would be seeing him during the culture festival, with the delinquents of her middle school, vandalizing the side and some storage sheds. They were squatting under a cherry tree under the window of her hallway, beating things they weren’t supposed to, laughing at whoever tried to stop them. This was not the Yato she knew. The sweet boy who sat next to pink flowers did not laugh while bullies beat those weaker than them. She had abandoned her post, running down the stairs, out the front door and around the building.                                                                                

“Yato!” She hollered at him. He stopped, wide blue eyes stark against the Cherry Tree behind him. He looked just as shocked and fearful as the first time she saw him, but her face held more fury. The boys were just as shocked at the sight of a girl glaring at them with her fist balled. She was shaking, but the frightened boy beaten against the tree trunk caused her to march forward.

“Uh,” one of the boys faltered.

“Looks like his girlfriend came to save him.”

“Hey girlie, whatcha up to?” Another jeered. Hiyori kept her head down as she reached for the stuned victim’s arm and pulled.

“She’s kinda cute.”

“Yeah, check it out,” the boys were musing in a frightening way. Hiyori could feel their eyes on her as she and the victim stood but she was most aware of Yato. They didn’t do anything as Hiyori turned and tried to walk away, until one of them grabbed her arm.

“Hey, where ya goin?” one of them gibed. Hiyori’s lips tightened as she forced herself to look away.

“Let go of me,” she said.

“Come on, I just wanted to know why a cutie like you was hanging out with this loser,” the boys around her laughed and she felt tears well up in her eyes. Then, it was cut off.

“She said let go,” Yato growled in a way Hiyori had never heard.

“What? Dude what’s your deal?”

“Yeah, back off! I thought you were cool,” the boy holding her hand squeezed and jolted, causing Hiyori to gasp slightly in surprise. That might as well have been a wrestling bell because all hell broke loose. The hand was pulled off of her and Yato was pushed, leading to three other students on the ground. Before Hiyori could even catch up, the main bully was beaten and held against the tree. Two other boys tried to help their friend- to stop Yato from hitting him so much- before their noses met with his elbow and fist.

“Yato!” Hiyori cried, “Yato, stop it! Get off him!” She finally gathered herself and grabbed his cocked elbow. Those blue eyes flashed to her again and Hiyori gasped. She had never seen him so angry, they were alight with terrifying fury under knitted eyebrows. His face fought to smooth out at the sight of her, guilt filling in the tight lines, Hiyori realized for the first time: Yato was much stronger than he looked.

“Hey! What are you kids doing?” A teacher hollered around the corner.

“Run! Scatter!” The bullies immediately took off. Yato dropped the student he was holding, letting him slide down the tree, taking the same position as his victim. Hiyori watched her friend spin around and move towards the fence.

“Wait!” Hiyori tightened her grip on Yato’s arm.

“I can’t let my dad find out!” Yato spoke rapidly when he whipped to face her. For a moment she was shocked by the sudden flip in emotions but her jaw clicked shut as irritation boiled.

“You have to face the consequences of your actions! You can’t just leave!” Hiyori shouted. At one point the victim she helped tried to hold Yato too, only to be shoved off just as quickly. By now the teacher was marching over with two more in tow. Yato struggled against Hiyori, pulling so strongly that her heels dug in the dirt.

“Hiyori, I’m not kidding, let go.” Yato demanded with a low growl.

“Yato-”

“Stay right where you are!”

“I said get off!” With a final push, Yato sent Hiyori to her rear, flat in the dirt. They stared at each other, a mix of shock and hurt rolling across their features. Then, he was gone, up the cherry tree and over the fence by the time the teacher reached them. Hiyori was not like Yato. Hiyori would listen to the teacher, Hiyori would end up sitting in the office and telling them everything, Hiyori would meet her parents after they got a phone call. Hiyori would still go to the Cherry Tree to face him at their usual time, only to find it and it’s branches empty and silent.

Unable to break a promise, or a tradition, Hiyori prepared to meet Yato under the park Cherry Tree that weekend for the viewing. They watched that tree bloom every year before Hiyori left to go with her family or friends. But that short time they spent together was as nostalgic as it was precious. Yato was waiting for her, kicking up against the bark like usual. Except he wasn’t smiling at her with that crooked grin, in fact he wasn’t even looking at her. She didn’t approach him, just stood there with her fists balled. She wanted to yell at him, slap him across his bruising cheek but she was waiting for him to speak first and he knew it.

“I’m sorry.” He said. It was lame and pitiful and he knew it but it was enough for Hiyori to march over to him.

“You better be sorry. How could you? Beating up on someone weaker than you,” she jabbed her finger on his chest, “is that why you’re always beat up?” The realization seemed to strike her just as strongly as it did him. Boys were crazy; what if those bullies have been fighting with Yato the entire time?

“No,” Yato spat at the ground, “I just met them. Couple months ago.” He shared her scowl and Hiyori felt her eyes water with frustration.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t realize I had to. You’re not my only friend, you know. Besides, you have other friends too.”

“They’re not good friends, Yato.”

“I can hang out with whoever I want,” he suddenly glared at her. It shocked Hiyori enough for her to let out a short gasp which caused Yato’s face to drop again with guilt but he looked away before she could glare. Up close Hiyori saw all the bruises littering his face. He seemed to be favoring his right side but Hiyori can’t tell if it’s because of his foot or hand. Honestly Hiyori couldn’t bring herself to focus on street fight bruises.

“Fine then,” Hiyori sighed. She watched her friend pout for a couple moments longer before looking above them. This tree was beautiful, it’s petals completely covered it in the most breathtaking shade of blush and magenta. Despite herself she smiled, this was her happy place but only when the boy in front of her was there.

“You look really pretty,” Yato mumbled. When Hiyori looked back at him, she noticed he was staring at her again. Drinking in her appearance with a blank expression.

“Th-thank you,” Hiyori blinked. Her mother put her in a pink and purple kimono with butterflies sewn around her ankles. Her fingers reached up to play with her hair, the majority of it tied with a hairstick. Damn him for making her forgive and forget her anger so easily. With a hum, Yato watched her for a couple moments longer before he looked back at the ground.

“You should go. Your friends are probably waiting.” This was about twenty minutes earlier than when she usually left but her friends probably were already there. Still, Hiyori didn’t want to leave, even if Yato was okay with it.

“Come with me,” said Hiyori.

“What?” Yato yelped, head popping up. Hiyori didn’t bother elaborating, she just grabbed his hand and pulled him off their cherry tree.

“Wait! Hiyori!” He stumbled but didn’t pull away as she walked him out of the park.

“That boy you beat up is going to be with us. His name is Manabu and I expect you to be nice,” Hiyori huffed. She held her breath as they headed towards the end of the fence. Of course they left the park more often than not these days but it still worried her. She sighed with a smile when he just continued to follow after her as they left the park behind.

“Are you sure this is a good idea? Won’t they hate me?”

“No,” Hiyori giggled, “why would they hate you?” She looked back at him for a moment. Eventually she let go of his hand but was happy to see he still followed. It had been awkward at first, Yato practically hid behind her while her friends gaped and teased. Poor Manabu was terrified and wouldn’t even talk to her unless Yato was distracted. But it ended up okay, everyone had fun and her female friends cooed at how cute Yato’s smile was.

Unfortunately, Yato couldn’t hover around her all the time. It was next spring, before middle school graduation, that Manabu asked her out. He had been so attached to her after her little rescue attempt that Hiyori had a hard time saying no. Fortunately, boys had a habit of falling out of Cherry Trees.

“That’s why Hiyori Iki, please,” Manabu bowed, “please go out with-” He fell to the ground with a thud, squished under another body.

“Yato!” Hiyori gasped. Her friend was rubbing his butt with a pout, refusing to look at her or the boy he now sat on.

“What are you doing?”

“I tripped.”

“Out of a Cherry Tree?” Hiyori huffed at him as he stood, stepping off Manabu as politely as he could. The two friends couldn’t look at each other’s red face but Hiyori at least had the dignity to help Manabu back up with Yato watching her, just like that day. Manabu too, looked suitably embarrassed. His face rivaled that of the apples on an apple tree rather than the pink of the blossoms above them. Before Hiyori could nicely turn him down- and let Yato have it- someone gently weaved their arms together.

“Sorry, but Hiyori has plans with me everyday after school forever. Give up,” Yato stated nonchalantly. He led her away as Manabu and Hiyori worked to close their mouths. The two children didn’t look or say anything to each other, even when they reached the park.

“Forever?” Hiyori repeated.

“Yep. Forever and ever,” Yato said in the same tone he used when they promised that as kids. He was completely turned around but Hiyori could see his red ears.

“And what if I wanted to date him?”

“You didn’t,” that got Yato to turn around, “I could tell.” There was nothing she could say, even with both their faces rising in temperature, he was completely serious. And he was right.

“That and you looked like you wanted to drop through the floor,” Yato finally snickered. With a gasp she whacked him, hitting him more the more he laughed at her, trying to mock her horrified expression.

“I keep telling you to stop spying on me at school! They’re getting ready to cut down that tree!” Hiyori said. At some point, Yato caught her hand and twined their fingers together, grinning despite her embarrassment.

“Come on! Let’s get some ramen. Your treat,” he started towards their favorite noodle bar. Hands swinging, she walked right next to him, refusing to let go or look at his proud smirk.

“You just don’t want to lose your meal ticket.” She muttered.

“Oh come on,” Yato scoffed, “you know you love me!” He cackled at the terrible joke and Hiyori struggled to smile. He meant it as a joke- right?- but that little comment resonated in Hiyori all the way through her middle school graduation. It kept her up at night, bounced around her skull as they walked around town, and vibrated in her chest when he waited under their Cherry Tree with a bouquet of flowers after her graduation party.

The more aware she was of her own feelings, the more aware she became of his. The attention, the neediness, the jealousy, the more-than-friendly affection. Hiyori was almost sure Yato liked her too. But no matter how much she pushed and pried, the first year of high school coming and going, he never did anything more. And if Manabu was anything to go by, Hiyori was still on the market.

There was another boy, Fujisaki, in the grade ahead of her. He had been one of her first friends in highschool and often hung out with her group of friends. Somewhere along the way, they had exchanged phone numbers, spent time alone together outside of school, and talked everyday. Even Yato knew more about him than he should, scowling as she recounted her stories about Fujisaki. There were even a couple times Fujisaki walked her home, staying with her and Yato at the park until she had to go home. They argued, right then and there under the Cherry Tree, over who would walk her home. Fujisaki’s charisma and Yato’s temper had Hiyori pick the former; something she regretted for days but never apologized for. Instead, Hiyori tried to keep their interactions and knowledge about each other to a minimum. But the fact was that Fujisaki was much more determined than Yato’s stubbornness. Before she knew it they had gone on a date, then two. Something Yato saw on social media.

“You’re really going out with him?” Yato had been late, for the first time, to the Cherry Tree one day, marching towards her just as the sun was setting. When he finally did come, he wore a storm cloud over his head and opted to shove the cheap phone he got in her face.

“I-I am not! We just date sometimes!” Hiyori shoved the device away.

“That’s called going out, Hiyori!” Yato all but shouted. His hand slammed against the tree truck right next to her head. Hiyori flinched but she was too offended and embarrassed and guilty to do anything but narrow her eyes up at him. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Hiyori wondered when the tiny boy she met grew taller than her.

“It was twice and what does it matter! I’m not doing anything wrong! I can date whoever I want,” even to Hiyori’s ears it sounded forced. Like she was trying to convince herself of something.

“Do you even want to date him?”

“I wouldn’t have agreed to a third date if I didn’t!”

“That’s not an answer, Hiyori,” Yato leveled her with a more serious gaze. Not a jealous, emotional teenage boy, but a concerned friend. She hated when he did that. How he could get so dramatic, get her angry, then make her heart quiver with nothing but honest concern.

“Who says it's not an answer,” Hiyori muttered to the ground. She heard Yato take a deep breath through his nose, sensing he didn’t believe her.

“You don’t see us at school. We hang out all the time,” Hiyori continued, “he’s really nice and we get along.” She had said this line many times to many people and while she felt comfortable acting around her friends and family, it was harder with Yato.

“I can too,” Yato mumbled. When Hiyori returned her glare to him, she saw this time he was the one looking off with embarrassment. No, that wasn’t right, not embarrassment. Fear maybe?

“I can, uh, apply? Go to high school too. With you,” Yato said, rather uncomfortably. He started twitching again but Hiyori took a moment to indulge in old daydreams. Ones where Yato would sit next to her in class and laugh with her friends, play a sport or join a club, let her know more about him.

“Why would you do that?” Hiyori hushed, “Just so you can hang out with those bullies again? You tell me who I can and can’t hang out with while never telling me anything about you!”

“I can’t tell you! There’s nothing to tell! Besides I wouldn’t,” he bit his lip, “I wouldn’t say anything if you actually liked him.”

“I never said I didn’t!” Hiyori argued.

“You never said you did.”

“Well maybe I do.” Hiyori shot. Her declaration rang through the air, it seemed to strike through Yato and his shoulders slumped. Next to her ear, his fist curled, scraping against the bark.

“Then say it.” He dared with a low growl. It hurt to hear, why couldn’t he just grow a pair and give her a straight answer? Or was she wrong and he really was okay with her dating someone else?

“Why should I? Who cares whether or not I do or I don’t, it’s dating. That’s what dating is. And it’s not like you ever-!” Her rage was cut off harshly. She couldn’t bite her lip fast enough and Yato’s eyes whipped up to hers before she could look away. They stared at each other again. The Cherry Blossoms had bloomed over a week ago and it’s brown, rotting flowers had already started to shrivel up and fall around them. But their sweet smell still wafted around Hiyori, mixing nicely with Yato’s cologne and natural scent. They were so close. During their yelling both of them had leaned closer, bangs almost brushing. Yato had bent to her eye level, which made their blushes that much more apparent.

“Would you-” his voice cracked and he cleared it.

“Would you have? Uh,” Yato couldn’t get it out and Hiyori could barely listen.

“Yes.” Hiyori said. She had always been braver than him, even though she didn’t know exactly what she was agreeing to. But when Yato didn’t talk, didn’t look at her, for a long time, Hiyori’s worries boiled over and threatened to spill over her lashes.

“I’m homeless.” Yato said suddenly.

“Huh?” Hiyori blinked, “You’re homeless? You’re kidding! You don’t actually live here?” Her voice took on a hint of a plea as her hands came up between them.

“Well, no, I can go home, when I’m not kicked out. But I don’t, uh, don’t like my dad when he, uh, bullies me.” Yato stammered. As he spoke a dying blossom fell on his head and stuck there.

“Oh, Yato.” Hiyori mourned. Taking in a sharp breath Hiyori reached up to remove the flower, dropping it on the ground and resting her palm on his cheek.

“And I’m not ‘homeschooled’ so much as I’m ‘self taught.’ He did the basics but, uh,” Yato swallowed and let out a painful laugh, “I have no future, Hiyori. All I really have is you, as sad as that is. But, uh, you do. With someone good.” His words were met with silence. Hiyori wanted to be mad, to shout, to apologize, anything. But she couldn’t. All she could do was let the tears fall down her cheeks and sniff as Yato stared. Eventually he pulled her into a hug, slowly and cautiously, resting her head in his chest.

“I’m sorry. I know you wanted to know but,” Yato sighed against her head, “I’m sorry.”

“You have a future.” Hiyori sniffed.

“Hiyori,”

“You have a future here. With me.” She asserted. He offered everything to her yet she wasn’t all he had. Yato had strength, Yato had kindness, Yato had perseverance. But no matter what, Yato had her and Hiyori had him. It was just as dependable as the tree they stood under and just as beautiful. Yato’s smile was sweet like the scent of blossoms as his eyes got a wet sheen to match hers.

“I’d like that.” He hushed. Her own breath hitched as he reached up to wipe her tears and held her face, gently. Moving slowly, ever so slightly, with nervous, jolting movements, they got even closer.

“Only if you want to,” Yato’s nose brushed her cheek as her eyes drooped, “if you want me.” Instead of answering, Hiyori used her hand to push him the final centimeter, squeaking when his lips pushed against hers. They took turns letting out soft sounds as they struggled to figure out how to kiss properly. It was awkward, their clumsy movements sloppy and off-beat while they tried to figure out how to breathe. But it was as sweet as it was addicting. Regardless, Hiyori was giddy and couldn’t help but snort at their inexperience, peaking one eye open to see a very passionate Yato with more dead flowers in his hair. Suddenly, Yato’s eyes popped wide open and he looked directly into hers. That did it and she couldn’t help but laugh. He gasped in offense and mortification and Hiyori thought it served him right. Just in case she grabbed his face and pecked at his scowl. In retaliation, Yato kissed her hard, pressing her so tight against the tree her nice shoes slid up the root and onto the trunk.

“Wha-? Hey!” Yato protested as Hiyori spun in his arms and crawled up the tree, limbs moving without thought. She took a moment to look down at him and stick out her tongue, before she disappeared into the leaves.

“Oh no you don’t!” Yato was up the tree in seconds but Hiyori was already straddling his branch, smiling triumphantly. Of course, she wouldn't be for long as Yato managed to re-claim his spot while kissing her senseless. The tree hid them well into the night, the old cherry blossoms falling off, making room for the new yet forever precious beauty.

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

May i request a hc or fic of Liora, Zhora and Vivienne finding out that their girlfriend has been psychologically/emotionally abused by their parents.

VIVIENNE WARNINGS APPLY: Mentions of Homophobia, external and internalized Mentions of Strict/Bullying parents. Mention of Conversion Camp -  Drugging, Negative association therapy, IMPLIED forced masturbation, illness and cane usage. Mention of controlling, forceful, cheating partner. Self Blaming. Spoilers for route. A writer trying a hand at serious Angst. WRITTEN BY @evoedBD +++++++++++++

How many times could she do this? How many times would she dash herself upon the rocks and drive Silvana to raise the shield between them? How many times would her own actions lead to that one-word spilling from gorgeous lips?

“Red.”

The word was safety. A shield. An absolute. It was the uncrossable line, a barrier reinforced by projected personas and deadly kisses. It was woven into a portrait of femininity, as delicate and deadly as any nightshade. It was warmth from the cold, comfort from leering eyes that aimed to feast just below the hemline of short black dresses, or dip beneath the shadowy garbs of lace. Now, safety was turned against her. Such a simple word suddenly tore at her heart, became the blood staining her hands as she attempted to understand how she had plunged the knife into the loving artist’s heart. Was this the price she had to pay to keep any form of happiness? Was she to continue to devastate those she cared for most just to feel a slither of comfort?

There was nothing she could do but freeze. She was rendered helpless in the face of Silvana’s tears; a net trying to hold the tide at bay. Silvana’s tears did not come with violent sobs and reaction, that was perhaps what was most terrifying of all. Silvana’s tears were fat, plummeting from her eyes, down her cheeks and off the point of her chin to mix with the paints laid out before her. They were so silent, so defeated that Vivienne felt as if she were struck. Vivienne trembled so violently long legs could no longer hold her. She dropped her rump to the floor, sliding down the wall until her knees were tucked protectively against her chest. Crushing her breast to her heart, as if the pressure could stop sorrow flooding her veins with every steady beat. Silently, she waited, watching Silvana simply mix the paints. Mix, and mix, and mix… lost in the simple action, as if her mind was elsewhere. The glaze to her chocolate eyes was not that glaze of looking into a world only she could see, was not the fogginess of an artist bringing a vision to life. This was darker, enough to shadow the vibrance usually seen across Silvana’s face.

“I was 14.” Silvana finally broke the silence. Vivienne lifted her head, body instantly on alert, ready to leap into the fray to battle off the demons haunting Silvana… except, she couldn’t. Memories had no physical form, nor consciousness to battle. To fight them would be to lay hands on Silvana; to play cruel mind games with Silvana. That was not something Vivienne was prepared to do, not again.

“I’m Cuban American, you know this.”

Vivienne could only nod. Of course she knew this, the information had not been difficult for a world class thieving gang to acquire when scouting for their forgery artist.

“Dad was born in the states, so he was a little less strict, but my family is religious. Highly religious. Old school, even. I was 14 when I made the mistake of talking about this girl I’d seen. I didn’t know I was bisexual then, or why I was so drawn to her, only that she was beautiful and funny, and her laugh made my stomach flutter and I couldn’t get her off my mind. My parents wanted to help, they were scared I would go to hell, that the Devil had me. My uncle and the pastors convinced them I was beyond prayer. That only the most faithful could save me… so my parents sent me to conversion camp.” Silvana stopped, lips quivering, breath laboured. She closed her eyes against the flood of memories, taking a deep breath to centre herself.

“Sil-” Vivienne never even got to finish that name before said woman cut her off.

“Vivi. Please. If you talk…” Silvana’s voice broke. She shook her head, trying to dislodge the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.

“I need to just get through this.” The artist pleaded; it was not the type of begging Vivienne would ever wish to hear fall from her lips. The seductress was once more robbed of her words when she gazed at Silvana’s face. The light was gone, as if trapped behind glistening layers of frosted glass which dulled chocolate eyes. Full lips fell into a frown, burdened by the weight of everything Silvana needed to say. It was enough to slice through Vivienne’s thick skin, to pierce her heart. At Vivienne’s meek nod, Silvana took another deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to reveal.

“Camp was… they drugged me. They deliberately made me ill as they showed me… or they forced me to… sin. Sin until I was sick. If I didn’t, the Nuns had canes and…” Silvana swallowed, shaking her head violently, as if she could dislodge the nightmares. Vivienne was almost sick. A hiccup of a sob escaped her. Her hand flew up to her mouth, covering her horrified expressions and stifling the wounded sounds about to escape on Silvana’s behalf. If only that was all Silvana had to say, all she’d endured. Unfortunately, Vivienne could already see, already knew that it was the iceberg in an ocean of abuse in the name of therapy.

“I can’t…” Silvana’s whisper was bittersweet. Selfishly, Vivienne was thankful. She hadn’t used her most waterproof makeup, and anymore was bound to turn her into a blubbering mess. Or a vengeful demon upon the church. The world was not ready for the vengeance she could plan, even without laying a finger on a single soul. Even if she had to charm and seduce every Priest, every Nun and even the Saints themselves. She would have them crooning their sins as ballads, confessing how many victims there were of their crimes… and if they did not? The Poppy had the power to make those crimes a reality, and to seize their treasures while they were at it.

“Once I got home, my parents kept treating me as if I was sick. If I mentioned any girls, Mom would make me spend hours praying to a painting of Jesus. Dad just… he blamed himself. Thought that all the stories he taught me to love took me from God. Everybody at school and Church knew. Lots of them made jokes about it all the time. I was so scared and disgusted and confused, but I couldn’t ask anybody for help. I couldn’t trust them. I prayed. Every day I prayed so hard for those feelings to go away. To not look at some women and… want them in the way I wanted some men. I kept looking for guys, the type of guys a good Godly woman should want, but there weren’t any. Until I got a summer job with one of my father’s friends, working with his son. We were both adults, but he was older and had a very, well, “strong” personality.” Silvana’s tone left little to the imagination. Vivienne, for all her twenty-six years of emotional and physical conditioning, couldn’t resist flinching. She didn’t want to hear it, hear what she already had her suspicions had happened. She knew Silvana had faced mistreatment, the artist had confessed as much after doubting Vivienne, arguing in the streets of Saint Petersburg. She’d confessed to small things which had damaged her trust, and those little things were enough for Vivienne to see red all over again. The Seductress bristled, pressing her back to the wall as she braved the storm Silvana was unleashing. It was better this way, that Silvana was not alone in the floods anymore. They were family, and Vivienne was all too willing to cast aside the sickly feeling in her gut to give Silvana a moment of peace.

“He saw how I looked at some of the boys my age, and some of the girls too. He was the first person aside form Claudia who wasn’t mean about it. He was really charming and kind, a little controlling, but it wasn’t like what I’d seen on TV. I didn’t realise it was so bad. He’d bring me flowers and wear this dapper suit to Sunday mass. He supported my arts, even would buy me these lovely paints. But it was always his way, you know? Every time he wanted something, we did it. I was too scared to ask for help, so it went unchecked. It just kept escalating. At first it was little things, like letting him pay or going where he wanted to on dates. Then it was what he wanted to eat, or the dress he wanted me to wear. Then it was he wanted me to… service him. Eventually, he wanted full blown sex. I kept saying I wasn’t ready, and he didn’t force me, but he kept trying to convince me. Kept pushing, until it was easier just to agree than come up with reasons not to. He wasn’t mean or rough, just pushy. I told my parents, but they wouldn’t listen to me. The devil had touched me, and I had to pray it away. His dad was so respected in the Church, he was too, and it wasn’t like he forced me, right? He just made some comments and I just caved. Whatever he wanted. He kept me on my knees like a good little girl, like a nun for God he used to say… until my mother caught us. Then I was tempting him, I was threatening to expose him if he didn’t do it. He was already going to marry me, so he agreed to fooling around out of wedlock to save me from the Devil.”

“He sounds positively charming.” Vivienne commented dryly. Her face contorted into a vicious frown, eyes almost firing lasers in her outrage on Silvana’s behalf.

“Yeah, well, not two weeks after we left for college, he was sleeping with other girls. He thanked me for being such a good girl for him, for getting him out of his home and taking the heat for him. Turns out, he had a flock of eager girls. They all kept quiet because they saw how the Church cast me out. I was just a scapegoat and a means to an end. I was easy.” The Cuban artist shrugged her shoulders, as if she could deflect her pain like water off a duck’s feathers. She couldn’t conceal how her lips shivered, parting around painful breaths she tried to keep silent. The flowing floral dress didn’t conceal how her sides heaved, nor how her shoulders caved. Accepting. Defeated. It was not a look Vivienne ever wanted to see again.

“Silvana. What he did was unacceptable.” There was nothing else Vivienne could say. She longed to. In every language she knew, she longed to cuss and spit until her voice left her and her throat was raw. Until she tasted blood for everything Silvana had endured. Perhaps she could ask Zoe to find this man, then pay him a visit. Be the worldly seductress of his dreams, only to cast him into deathly nightmares with her poisoned kiss. Members of the Poppy had built immunity to her poisons, to her charms and games, but the one who had hurt Silvana? Vivienne knew his type. He would be easy. Effortless.

“I didn’t know how to say no back then. I had so much catching up to do once I got away from the strict religious family. My first girlfriend dumped me after a few months. The Art Chic was adorable and sexy, but she wasn’t looking for a project. She didn’t want to deal with the religious guilt. She wasn’t in it for the long haul. That’s ok, I mean, I needed to learn more about myself too. But, I kept finding those types of partners. Pushy, looking for something casual and easy, not treating me respectfully. Maybe that’s why the Poppy didn’t bother me too much, it wasn’t personal or vindictive.”

“I’m sorry.” The words were careful and considered, gifted to the artist with the utmost sincerity. Vivienne’s manipulation had perhaps been the most personal of all, even if it was for different reasons. For weeks, months even, she had helped stalk the artist. Gathering information. Assessing her talents, her position, her life. Nausea struck Vivienne’s gut like a tsunami, rising like the tide up her throat. Every breath she claimed was like breathing through a hurricane in her lungs. She had probably seen those people. Ones who had hurt Silvana. Those who had convinced the artistic wonder that she was not good enough to succeed. Vivienne had been so close to them, close enough to have dealt with them. To have spared Silvana some of this pain, possibly, and she’d done nothing.

“Viv. You didn’t manipulate me like they did.” Silvana offered comfort, though Vivienne found it lacking. Weak. Dishonest. Vivienne Tang most certainly had manipulated. Everything was so beautifully orchestrated, the melodic notes in a lifelong melody, falling into place like aligned dominos. From their first meeting, Vivienne’s purred compliments, the touch of pearls. Vivienne had played the role to a fantasy, the worldly, older woman leading a young artist into a world of glamour, of crime and mystery. She’d played the role as if she were to be upon the silver screen. The mentor. The romantic interest. She’d let Silvana think her much older, let Silvana drown in the mysteries she wove. Any romance upon the screen needed to end with a kiss and a tragedy, and Vivienne had delivered to perfection. Poisoned lipstick, the whisper of an apology in her throat. How was this not like the others who’d used Silvana in the past?

“I played with your emotions, poisoned you, then abandoned you in a strange city.” Vivienne pointed out, guilt turning her tongue to led. She wished she could claim her guilt was because she was, somewhere, deep down, a good person. That she regretted using the Artist like she had because it was not the kind thing to do. However much she wished she could deflect that crime to her duties to the Poppy, she could not. Not fully. That had been her choice and hers alone. Her panic when someone had grazed the walls around her mind and heart. Someone had gotten under her scales. That was precisely it. Silvana had worked her way into the hearts of the tight knit Poppy, had earned her place amongst their little family. Vivienne only felt guilty because it was Silvana specifically. A girl she was attached to. Loyal to. Someone in her heart, nestled alongside Nikolai, Remy, Jett, Leon and Zoe. Had Silvana not infiltrated her heart, Vivienne would never even batter an eyelid. She was, after all, a selfish creature. A viper who took what she wanted and left the corpse to the vultures to pick over. Left her marks for lesser thieves to squabble over like starved wolves.

“Yeah, that hurt, I can’t lie. But Viv, we worked through everything. I chased you, The Poppy, half way around the continent to do it. And I won’t lie and say we had it easy, but we got there. We faced it. We’re ok. We’re a team, family. I don’t hold any of that against you. Just, your comment, this piece. The heist. It brings back memories.”

“You are so much bigger than all of them. Silvana Mendo, you have painted your name across the world. Your forgeries hang in some of the finest galleries, fooling the greatest critics and adoring eyes by the thousands, still undiscovered years later. All those people who doubted you are meaningless fools. Please, zaika, do not let them drag you from the stars.” Vivienne’s voice was gentle, her pleading sincere. She lowered her knees, shifting until she was kneeling close to the artist, a devotee at the feet of a deity. The way Silvana’s lips curled into a sad smile was lancing; left Vivienne’s emotions bleeding from her in the form of answering tears. Eyeliner ran like charcoal down ashen cheeks, mirroring what she was staring at. She longed to fix this, wished she had the answers to make everything better. All she had were pretty words. Pretty words and small gestures.

“I know, but it isn’t always easy to feel like I know it. You’ve helped me become a more confident version of myself. Taught me how to fend those people off. Just, some days it feels as if my insecurity will break me.”

Vivienne scarcely registered removing one of her long silken gloves, only that her fingers felt bare against her poisoned lips. Her deadly kiss, meant with the most pure of intentions. It was stupid. As if such a minor gesture could give anything back to Silvana. As if it could mend wounds. The best it could so was send her loopy once the poison soaked into her pores. Vivienne caught her hand half extended, reaching towards the light, trying to drag it back into the Artist’s soul. She froze. Was she truly worthy? She had acted just the same as people who’d hurt the Cuban, what gave HER the right to try to fix it. One look at Silvana gave her the answer. It was so simple, as sure as the sun rose and set. As sure as the ground was beneath their knees. Silvana gave her the right, even without uttering a single word. Deep brown eyes implored Vivienne to close the distance, to try to tend to these gaping wounds. Both women watched Vivienne’s hand tremble as she closed the distance. A gentle brush of fingertips, delivering intent without risking a lipstick stain. Then, Vivienne was lost, running long fingers through frizzy hair in an effort to pull it away from a damp face. To reveal the beauty it was currently concealing.

“Then I’ll do my best to piece you back together. As many times as I must.” Vivienne vowed, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her gloved hand lifted, gently curling around Silvana’s cheek. With her removed glove Vivienne dabbed at Silvana’s cheeks, wiped her runny nose, fretted over every smudge of paint. She remained there, dabbing delicately at the mess until Silvana’s tears ran dry. Until fussing earned soft laughter and playful comments. It was a far cry from Silvana’s most joyful, but it was a step. Vivienne already knew this would happen again. These dark memories would eat at the Artist, but Vivienne was determined to hold on. To keep the pieces together, even if it meant her own hands were sliced open. Even if it hurt. For all the treasures she had seen, all the riches she had stolen, nothing could compare to Silvana. The angel on her shoulder. The woman who embodied safety. The being who was her safe haven.

If Vivienne Tang had to bleed for something, she chose Silvana.

Every. Single. Time.

[turtle-steverogers]

Mothman Unsolved

hi guys im laughing really hard cuz its 3 am and i wrote a fucking mothman au and its weirdly angsty but every time i typed ‘mothman’ i chuckled anyway lol enjoy 

warnings: death, uh some panicking, a bridge collapses (this is based off the true events of the incidents yah oops)

ship: ralbert, past relmer, past spalbert

word count: 5576 im crying im so sad

November 17, 1966

“Let’s do something,” Race peered into his lover’s eyes, which were carefully masked by the darkness in the room, “Let’s go somewhere, live for a bit…” he trailed off for a moment, “be kids.���

Elmer pulled him closer to his chest, running a hand through his tangled curls, “I dunno,” he considered, heaving a breath, “M’kinda tired and it’s pretty late.”

Race propped himself onto one elbow, leaning down to capture Elmer in a searing kiss, “C’mon,” he whispered, pulling away just far enough to speak, his breath still ghosting Elmer’s lips, “Just for a bit?”

“A snake, Higgins,” Elmer said, sounding vaguely breathless, “You are a fucking snake.”

“So’s that a yes?” Race murmured, trailing a line of kisses from behind Elmer’s ear to his neck.

Elmer growled, “Fucking fine.  Okay, yes.”

Race sat up, grinning as he bounced off Elmer’s bed and slipped on his shoes, “Great, let’s go!”

The drive was pleasantly invigorating as they sped along Route 62, the long stretch of road expanding in front of them.  There wasn’t much in around the area, but it was theirs.  Point Pleasant, West Virginia wasn’t known to be any large attraction.  Rather, it was a small town of no more than 5,000 people where everyone knew everyone.  

Neighbors never changed, townspeople never strayed.  Everything was routine.  Cookie-cutter.  Imperfectly perfect in every way.  

Race liked routine.  He enjoyed the vacancy of the area and cherished the fact that nothing ever differed.  It was oddly comforting knowing that no matter how fast life seemed to accelerate, leaving him breathless and scared, he always had the same home and group of people to surround himself with.  

They sped forward, the road curving slightly as they entered the McClintic Wildlife Sanctuary.  Race’s hand remained entwined with Elmer’s as he propped his feet on the dash, eyes wandering out the window and to the stars above.  It was strangely warm for a November night, clear skies making way for thousands of visible stars and temperatures pushing towards the 60s.  The two boys had long since abandoned their sweaters, relaxing with the windows down to allow the breeze to travel through the car.

“Ain’t we near the TNT Area?” Race asked, breaking the silence as they passed one of the old storage bunkers that scattered the area, leftover from World War 2.

Elmer hummed, glancing to the side momentarily before nodding, “I think so, yeah.”

“This place always rubbed me wrong,” Race commented as they passed another bunker, dug into the side of a ditch, “It’s downright unnerving.”

“We can turn around if ya want,” Elmer suggested, “we don’t gotta-”

He cut himself off with a gasp, involuntarily jerking the steering wheel to the side as what looked like two enormous red, glowing eyes materialized down the road.  Race let go of Elmer’s hand, hastily taking his feet off the dash and placing them securely on the ground as the car’s wheels screeched against the pavement.

They were spinning.  Fast.  But the red eyes never seemed to move from in front of the car.  

“Elmer, stop the car!” Race shouted, heart hammering in his chest.  He willed himself to look away from the eyes and turned to his boyfriend, who’s gaze was transfixed on whatever was staring them down.  His mouth was hanging open, but no sound was coming out.  It was as if the sound had been erased from his vocal chords, leaving him utterly helpless.

“Elmer, love, look at me,” Race pleaded, reaching out to grab the steering wheel as they continued to spin at increasing speed.  His stomach was flipping violently and he willed himself to hold down his dinner.

Elmer shook his head slowly, lifting one hand and pointing out the window.  Fear spiked in Race’s stomach as he looked forward again, only to find that he was looking at what appeared to be a very large bird-man.

The creature was abnormally tall, landing somewhere between 7 and 8 feet.  Its legs seemed to sprout far to the ground, disproportionately slim compared to its torso, which was wide and covered in feather-like fur.  A large pair of wings, more similar to those of a bat rather than a bird were neatly folded behind its back and Race swallowed, utterly captivated.  His eyes returned to the creature’s own and he felt his voice leave his body, brain turning to mush as he tried to form words.

Then, its wings spread and it glided upwards, wings staying stationary.  Race’s awareness returned to him with an overcompensating gasp and he turned back to Elmer, who’s eyes appeared to be rolling back into his head.  Race watched in horror as Elmer’s arms curled into his body as he began to convulse.  

Race only had a second to scream as the car flipped on its side, Elmer’s head smashing into the driver side window.  The sound of glass cracking echoed through the car, then everything went black.

November 17, 1967

Race sighed, hands curled around the mug of coffee he was nursing as he looked out over his front lawn.  It was an overcast morning, the grey sky casting a gloomy mood over the area.  It was as if the town was tired, sad, completely worn out.

Or maybe that was just Race.  

He removed a hand from the warm, comforting ceramic of his mug and allowed his fingers to travel to his chest, where the locket that Elmer had given him still hung.  He considered taking it off and opening it, but he couldn’t bring himself to.  He hadn’t looked at the picture inside since before the events of a year ago.

He swallowed.  It didn’t feel real.  He couldn’t fathom that an entire year had already gone by since, since-

He huffed a breath, lifting the mug to his lips and taking a sip of the scalding drink, allowing it to ground him as the hot liquid traveled down his throat and into his chest.  He winced, blowing out a breath to cool his mouth, but a part of him enjoyed the sting.  It almost seemed to fill the hole in his heart that Elmer once occupied.  Almost.

He stared out towards the town in the distance, watching as a traffic light turned from green to red.  He flinched, glimpses of the horrifying creature and its awful eyes flashing through his mind at lightning speed.  He shut his eyes, willing for the memory to leave.  But he knew deep down that it would never.

He wasn’t alone in his experience, he knew that.  Other sightings of that...that thing had been reported frequently throughout the year.

More reports of a creature with terrifying, red eyes, a large wingspan, and frightening speeds had been told and retold by those living in the area.  It was every bit disturbing to Race as it was comforting.  At least he wasn’t alone in his insanity.

He considered taking a walk, his legs itching to get up and move away from his place of solitude on his front porch.  Standing, he chugged the rest of his coffee, placing the mug on the wood railing of his porch before traipsing down the steps, tucking the locket underneath his shirt as he walked off his property.

It was colder than it had been a year ago and he felt his teeth chattering as he drew his shoulder up, hands finding their way to his pockets.  He watched his shoes hit the pavement, too worn to look where he was going.

It had been like that a lot recently.  Small tasks seemed impossible.  Simply lifting his head was too much to bear.  Life seemed pointless without Elmer- his partner in crime, his other half, his secret and forbidden lover.  He missed the thrill of sneaking out and stealing kisses, blind to the eyes of the town.  It was a game.  Seeing how far they could push their luck and limits without exposing themselves to unaccepting onlookers.  But they loved it.  God, did they love it.

Race pursed his lips, sucking in a breath around the lump of emotions in his throat as fierce longing thrummed through his system.  He missed him so fucking much.

He hadn’t realized he was at his car until he was subconsciously pulling out his keys.  He froze, catching sight of himself in the window.  For a split second, he swore he could hear the sound of Elmer’s head making contact with the glass, the crack indicating the loss of his life reverberating in his brain.  He shook his head, blinking.  God, he was tired and it showed.  Even in the shitty reflection he could see the dark shadows on his face.

He scrubbed a hand down his face, reaching down to pull open the driver side door.  He climbed inside, anxiety bubbling up through his stomach and into the back of his throat, drying out his mouth and souring the taste on his tongue.  It felt inappropriate to be driving then- as if he were betraying Elmer in some way.

Nonetheless, he jammed the keys into the ignition and steered the car with trembling arms onto the street.  He drove numbly, unsure as to where he intended to go.  That was a lie.  He knew exactly where he was going.

Twenty blurry minutes later, he pulled onto the McClintic Wildlife Management Area.  As the road began to curve, he slowed to a stop, nausea rolling in his chest.  He could feel small spasms in his legs as anxiety turned to panic.  Why did he come here?  He knew he wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Abruptly, he lashed out, fist connecting with the hard leather of the steering wheel with a shout.  He could feel tears painting his face, but he didn’t do anything to stop them.  He needed this, goddamnit.  Sobs ripped out of him- loud and agonising.  He hunched forward, pulling at his hair as he tried to retain some semblance of control.  But the grief was ruthless and all-consuming and he soon lost himself in it.

It was only when his sobs slowed to hiccups that he noticed the other car parked not far down the road.  All breath left his body as he caught sight of the figure next to the car and he froze, eyes widening in fear.  Not fucking again.

The figure turned and relief flooded Race’s mind as he recognized the shock of distinguishable red hair.  It was a guy he’d seen around town.  He was fairly certain he’d been in his homeroom the year previous.

The guy seemed to freeze momentarily as well when he caught sight of Race’s car, but he, too, relaxed when he realized that he was safe.  They held eye contact through the windshield for an indiscernible amount of time.  Bloodshot eyes peering into bloodshot eyes, a strange understanding emanating from one man to the other.  

On a whim, Race turned off his car and climbed out.  The guy kept his eyes trained on him, curiosity visible on his face.  Race steeled himself, tentatively approaching him.  

They stood, face to face, searching separately for what to say.  

“It was here, right?” Race asked, voice low and sad, “You lost them here, didn’t you?”

The guy nodded, “Driving here at night.  Almost a year ago.  Saw that...that thing and then we swerved and the car flipped and...he was gone.”  The guy’s eyes widened as he seemed to realize that he had just outed himself.

“It’s okay,” Race said, quickly, “I am too.  Queer, that is.”

The guy’s tense shoulders seemed to deflate at Race’s words and he leaned back against his car, crossing his arms at his chest.

Race bit his lip, hovering awkwardly for a moment before leaning against the car as well, mirroring the guy’s position.

“What did you see first?” The guy asked, apprehension thinly veiled in his tone.

Race hesitated for a moment, eyes flicking to the spot where he’d first seen it.

“The eyes,” he muttered.

The guy nodded, “Big and red, right?”

“Mhm.”

Silence fell between them and Race forced himself to look away from the road where if he tried hard enough, he could still see the creature’s horrifying form.  His stomach lurched as the whip-lash inducing, spinning motion of the car seemed to ghost over him.  He shivered.

“Fuck that thing,” the guy said, malice biting at his words, “Fuck it for doing this to us.”

Race nodded, “honestly.”

More silence, then, “What’s your name?”

“Hm?” Race hummed, distracted, “Oh, uh, Antonio, but folks ‘round here call me Race.”

“Ah, you’re a Higgins, right?” The guy asked.

Race nodded, “Yup.  What about you?”

“Albert,” the guy said, “Dasilva.”

“Right, right,” Race said, recognizing the last name, “Your dad owns the auto shop, right?”

“Yeah,” Albert said, “Gonna be mine soon.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah…”

Before he could help himself, Race asked, “Who was he?”

Albert looked at him, raising his eyebrows and Race stared back, guilt encompassing him.

“Sorry, sorry,” Race hastily exclaimed, “You don’t hafta-”

Albert smirked sadly, “It’s alright,” he interrupted, “It was, uh, Conlon.  Sean Conlon, you know him?”

Race grimaced, “Went by Spot, right?”

“That’s the one,” Albert said.

“Yeah,” Race said, “was in my class for a few semesters in junior high.”

Albert set his jaw, “Yeah.  Good guy.  Kinda bruting, but sweet all the same,” he let himself look back towards the trees, deep in thought, “What about you?”

Race looked down at his sneakers, scuffing the ground with his toe, “Elmer, uh, Elmer Kasprzak?”

“Ah,” Albert sighed, “Yeah, his dad was a frequent customer.  Also a good guy.”

“Definitely,” Race agreed, a heaviness hanging in the air between them.

“I miss him.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I’m gonna find that thing,” Albert said, his voice taking on a new sort of determination, “and kill it.”

November 20, 1967

“Dasilva!”

Race approached the auto shop, sandwich bag in hand.  He could see Albert’s legs poking out from underneath a 1964 Pontiac GTO.  

A loud bang, followed by a resound, ‘shit-fuck!’, sounded from underneath the car as Albert apparently tried to sit up.  A moment later, he slid out on his back, face screwed up in pain as he rubbed his forehead, where presumably, he had hit it against the car.

His eyes lit up nearly imperceptibly when he noticed Race and he smiled, beckoning him over, “Hey, Higgins, what’s up?”

“Ah, nothing. But here,” Race crossed to him, reaching into the sandwich bag and pulling out a grilled ham and cheese sandwich, “I broughtcha some lunch.”

Albert took the sandwich, eyebrows furrowing as he looked up at Race, something akin to amusement dancing in his eyes, “Thanks, but why?”

Race shrugged, pulling out his own sandwich and unwrapping it, “Dunno, really, just thought it’d be nice.”

Albert faltered for a moment, sandwich halfway to his mouth, “Yeah?”

“Eat it before it gets cold,” Race said, pointedly.

Albert chuckled, taking a bite of his sandwich, “Alrighty, thank you.”

Race chewed thoughtfully as he looked around the shop, taking note of the organized clutter.  Some cars were suspended from the ceiling, while others were propped on the ground, but every car was in a different condition.  Some looked pristine and new, complete with a shining gloss exterior.  Others were completely wrecked to the point of unrecognizable, but every single one held a story.  

“Do you like working in here?” Race asked, crumpling up the aluminum foil that previously held his toastie.

“Love it,” Albert said, scanning his eyes fondly around the garage, “I dunno, it’s just...calming, you know?  Fixing things.”

“Calming how?” Race pushed, a strange part of him yearning to learn more about Albert- to hear what he had to say.

Albert took a measured breath, sorting through his thoughts, “It’s just,” he shook his head, placing his mostly-finished sandwich into the bag, “I’ve always loved it, like, working with my hands and being able to blow off steam that way.  But after what happened last year with Sean, I...I was so lost and I felt so broken, you know?” he took a deep breath, composing himself, “The first thing I did was take the wrecked car here,” he pointed to the farthest corner from them where an old 1959 Ford Fairlane was displayed.  The sides were still dented in some places, but altogether, it looked pretty stable, “Fixed it up as best I could and, I don’t know, it calmed me down.”

Race studied the car, letting the words sink in, “Was the car his?”

“Yeah,” Albert sounded distant, lost, “He loved that thing more than life itself.  I don’t even know why, but it was sweet,” he paused for a moment, “I love it, too.  It just feels like the last bit of him that I still got.”

Race fiddled with his locket, relating all too well, “Yeah,” he breathed.

Albert looked towards him, fixating on the locket for a moment, “That your piece of him?” he asked, nodding to it.

Race pressed the cool metal to his cheek, “Yeah.”

“Does it have anything inside?”

“Picture of us,” Race said, “But I haven’t opened it since before...yeah.”

Albert watched him carefully, “Open it when you’re ready.”

Race looked at him, a lopsided smile plastered on his face, “I will.”

They held eye contact, swimming in empathy, warmth filling their chests.  For the first time in months, the cavity that Elmer had left in Race’s heart seemed to mend the tiniest bit.

November 25, 1967

A loud knocking at his front door awoke Race from his nap.  He kept his eyes shut, allowing for his senses to return and distantly willing for whoever it was to go away.  But whoever it was was adamant and the knocking only grew stronger.

Groaning, Race pulled himself off the couch and scrubbed at his face, stumbling towards the door, “M’coming, m’coming.”

As soon as he opened the door, a newspaper was thrust in his face.  Race’s eyes snapped open, his heart leaping into his chest momentarily at the sudden movement, but he calmed down when he saw Albert’s red hair peeking over the paper.

“Jesus,” he croaked, voice still dripping with sleep as he grasped the newspaper, moving it away from his face, “hello to you, too.”

“Just read it,” Albert demanded, stepping inside the house without prompting and pointing at the headline, “there was another encounter with the thing last night.  Some lady saw it in her yard.”

Race raised his eyebrows, speed-reading the article, “Mothman?” He said, cocking his head as he read the new term for the creature.  

“Yeah, that’s how she described it, but think about it,” Albert’s hands were waving wildly at this point, “I don’t know exactly what you saw, but a moth isn’t so far off.”

Race looked up at Albert, realization dawning on his face, “Holy shit, you’re right.”

Albert nodded, an apprehensive glint to his eyes, “I say we go try and find the goddamn thing-”

“What!?” Race yelped, “Are you fucking insane-”

Albert held up a hand, silencing him, “Lemme finish.  I say we find the damn thing and kill it.”

Race ignored the voice in the back of his head telling him to kick Albert out of his house and demand he never return with such idiotic ideas, “How would we even find it?”

“Okay, okay, so,” Albert pushed past Race, plopping down on his couch, “This thing is supposed to be a moth, right?”

Race eyed him warily as he sat down in the armchair across from him, “Yeah?”

“And moths are attracted to light, yeah?”

Race nodded slowly, “yeah...where are you going with this?”

“Shh, listen,” Albert’s leg was bouncing rapidly at this point, “we were both driving at night when shit went down,-”

“Oh my god, it was drawn to our headlights,” Race concluded, adrenaline ripping through his veins as the puzzle seemed to complete itself.

Albert clapped, a cheeky grin spreading across his face, “Exactly.”

Race leaned forward, holding his head in his hands for a moment, “Okay, how do we kill it?”

Albert seemed to stop short, “I’m not...entirely sure, but my dad’s got a couple guns, so that’s worth a shot?”

Race mulled it over for a moment, “Okay, yeah, I’ll do it, but I’ll need a bit to think this through.”

“Course, yeah,” Albert said, easily, “Come and get me when you’re ready.”

December 1, 1967

Race buttoned his jacket with vibrating hands, trying his best to mentally prepare for that night.  He’d agreed to meet with Albert at the auto shop at 8:00 pm to search for the mothman, but he didn’t think he’d ever truly be ready.

He tried to focus on the grounding weight of his locket against his skin as he drove to the auto shop, his recollection of travel growing fuzzy as he neared it.  The anxiety that had been present throughout the day was in full swing by the time he pulled up and he was grateful that Albert had offered to drive them to the TNT Area.  He wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle being behind the wheel.

The prospect of willingly searching for the mothman seemed stupid, as if they were putting themselves directly in its clutches- walking into the belly of the beast.  But closure seemed appealing and as terrified as Race was, the slim chance that he’d get to kill the godforsaken monster left a giddy feeling inside him.

Albert was sitting on the hood of his car, head tilted towards the sky.  He didn’t look at Race as he approached, but he did shift over slightly, leaving room for him on the blue metal.  Race clambered up next to him, crossing his legs under him as he followed Albert’s gaze to the sky.

“Stars,” Albert muttered, his voice low.

Race felt overwhelmed as he drank in the view of thousands of blinking specks, “Yeah.”

“There were stars that night, too,” Albert said, “So many of them.”

“Same with my night,” Race said, “It was a beautiful night, warm-”

“-Clear-”

“-Free-”

“-Perfect.”

They looked at each other, eyes glistening and hearts hammering.

“I’m scared,” Race admitted, breath hitching.

Albert reached out and cupped Race’s jaw, thumb brushing over his cheekbone.  Race reached up and grabbed his wrist, holding on for dear life.

“I am, too,” Albert whispered, “Let’s do this for them.”

Race nodded, “For them.”

The drive was completely silent, save for the sound of both boy’s slightly too fast breathing.  The nervous energy in the car was nearly suffocating, but Race willed himself to take a few exaggerated breaths as they neared the TNT Area.  

The panic that had resided within him left a lump in his throat, threatening tears, and he gripped the center console, trying to calm down.  Albert was chewing on his bottom lip, a breathless sigh leaving him every so often.  It was clear that he was also barely keeping it together.  

Somehow, Albert’s hand found Race’s and they grasped each other tightly, eyes never leaving the dark road ahead of them.

Then, they saw them.  The glowing, red eyes, stark and shining in the bitter, black night.  The world muted for a moment as Race’s stomach seized up, utter and absolute dread eating him from the inside out.  

“Fuck,” He heard Albert breathe, “Shit, fuck.”

“I see it, too,” Race said, finding himself unable to look away from the enthralling eyes.  It was as if the creature cast a spell on him, preventing him from wavering his stare.  

All of a sudden, the creature took off, gliding flawlessly vertically.  Albert cursed again, accelerating the car until it was pushing 95 mph.  Race lost track of the red eyes, but soon, a creeping feeling tingled the back of his neck and he turned to the side.

Horror slammed him so hard he couldn’t even scream as he made eye contact with the creature, directly outside his window.  Albert must have seen it, too, because a moment later, he shouted a curse and made a sharp turn, hoping to lose the mothman.

But it stayed on their tail, never losing speed as it ran beside their car.  

“Albert, fucking speed up, fuck!” Race shouted, chest heaving as he tried not to throw up.

“I know, I’m trying!” Albert hissed, a panicked lilt to his tone.  He sounded as terrified as Race felt.

Albert made a sudden U-turn, screaming as he tried to keep the car under control.  They sped along for what could have been hours, but in reality was a few minutes, until the red eyes disappeared, no trace of the creature in sight.

Albert slammed the breaks, frantic cries escaping him.  In the commotion, their hands had parted and Race reached a shaking hand over to Albert.  Albert immediately clasped their hands together and lifted Race’s knuckles to his lips, trying to control his breathing.

“Hey,” Race murmured, trying to keep his own tears at bay, “Hey, look at me.”

Albert shook his head, breaths coming out short as he continued to cry.

Race reached his free hand up to brace the back of Albert’s neck, which was slick with sweat.  He massaged it soothingly, taking a few deep breaths of his own.

“Shhh,” He cooed, squeezing Albert’s hand, “We’re safe, I promise.”

“We’re not, though,” Albert interjected, finally looking at Race.  Their terrified gazes met each other’s, “We’re not as long as that thing is alive and we didn’t get a chance to fucking kill it.”

Race felt his adrenaline ebb away and he choked, “I know,” he said, “I-” he shook his head, “I don’t think we can kill it.”

Albert looked back towards the street, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

December 10, 1967

Race and Albert’s legs were tangled together under warm sheets, shadows dancing across the walls in Race’s bedroom.  They had spent nearly every night since their latest encounter together, too paranoid to be without the other’s company.

Race stared at the ceiling, heart too heavy to drift off.  Albert was resting across his chest, fast asleep and looking at peace, something Race was thankful to see.  Neither of them had spoken about the incident, but the dark cloud of apprehension followed them relentlessly wherever they went.

Questions of their safety hung in the air, withering their sanity from the inside out, but they tried their best to move from day to day, carefully avoiding any news of further encounters.

The town was in chaos.  Everyone had their stories and no one was safe.  The mothman didn’t discriminate.  Everyone was fair game for a sighting and it seemed that as the days crept along, nights passing quickly, more and more people fell prey to its peril.

A soft whimper from Albert brought Race back to the present.  Concerned, he peered down at Albert, who’s face seemed to be screwed up in fear.  He ran his fingers through his hair, hoping to calm whatever dream he was having, but his condition only worsened.

With a gasp, Albert awoke, his arms tightening around Race briefly before he scrambled to a sitting position.  He looked wildly around the room, pupils blown wide in panic as he neared hyperventilation.

“Whoa, hey,” Race said, crawling forward and placing a hand on Albert’s knee, “He’s gone, he’s not here.”

Albert shook his head vigorously, gulping in air in an attempt to gain oxygen, “Water,” he rasped.

“You want water?” Race asked, gently.

“No,” Albert was clawing at his throat, “There was,” another gasp, “So much- fuck- water.”

“Where? Wait, you know what? Tell me in a second,” Race pulled Albert’s hand away from his throat, massaging his palm, “Gather yourself and then tell me what happened, yeah?”

Albert nodded, tucking his head between his knees as he tried to calm down.  Race crouched next to him, diligently rubbing a hand down his back and continuously kneading his fingers until he was significantly calmer.

After a few minutes, Albert lifted his head, dazedly looking around before slumping into Race’s chest.  

Race held him tightly, “What about water?”

“I was drowning,” Albert said, voice worn, but scared, “it was so cold...and...dark and there were...presents everywhere and...I don’t know.  I couldn’t breathe.”

Race squeezed his bicep reassuringly, “It was only a dream, alright?  You’re safe.”

“But what if I’m not?”

Race shifted so that he was looking into Albert’s eyes, “You are, I promise, okay?”

Albert glanced to the side, “okay.”

“Wanna try sleep again?”

Albert tucked his head into the crook of Race’s neck, “Please.”

Race guided them so that they were laying down and situated Albert back onto his chest, “I’ve got us.”

December 15, 1967

Race was running, feet hitting the ground hard as he willed himself to go faster.  He needed to get to the Silver Bridge, he needed to get to Albert, he needed to find him before it was too late.

Stories of those who had dreamed of awful occurrences, which were soon followed by tragedy, had been frequenting the news lately and each and every one had a common thread: those who had these dreams had seen the mothman mere days before.  

As Race neared the bridge, the sounds of cars honking reached his ears and he froze, awestruck as the clutter of cars that lined the bridge from end to end.  The seemed to be stacked horizontally, bumper to bumper.  The road wasn’t visible beneath the vehicles and Race’s gaze shifted through the crowds.  Albert was somewhere in there, and he had to get to him before something bad happened.

He could feel it.  The ominous lurking of catastrophe blowing in the frigid, Winter breeze.  He wasn’t sure exactly what was going to happen, but it wasn’t anything good.  

He stepped foot on the bridge, beginning to weave his way through the cars, but stopped dead when an awful creaking sound rang out directly above him.  His head slowly turned up, mouth hanging open as he scanned the cluster of steel cables.  They were taut, vibrating, working against every ounce of physics to stay put.

“Shit.” Race swore, head snapping back down.  The goddamn bridge was going to collapse.  

He began to run, pounding on the windows of pedestrians as he passed different cars, shouting for everyone to, “Run! Get out of your cars! Get off the bridge!”

Whether or not people listened, Race didn’t know.  His mind seemed to tunnel on one target as he searched feverishly for Albert’s car, which was nowhere in sight.

The bridge gave a sickening groan and people screamed.  Race willed himself not to stop running as he slid over hoods of cars and snaked between those who were running.

The sound of the bridge straining grew louder and Race could feel the panicked sobs rising in his throat.  He couldn’t do this again, he couldn’t lose someone else.

He clamped his hands over his ears as a deafening crack echoed behind him.  It was happening now.  The bridge was going to fall.

He was distantly comforted by the fact that Albert clearly wasn’t in the center of the bridge, but he couldn’t help but look back as the middle crashed downwards, bringing cars down with it.

He gasped, unable to look away as the crevice seemed to grow, steel and metal barreling towards the water.  It was nearing him, he was going to fall with it.  He was going to-

A pair of strong arms wrapped around his torso as the bridge around him crashed down and he could hear a scream that matched his own echoing behind him as he plummeted towards the inky, black water.

The water was freezing and he could feel his lungs constrict as he was submerged.  He kicked out, turning his body so that he was facing the person holding him.

Albert.  Thank god.

Race held him back, both boys using conjoined efforts to kick to the surface, away from cars and bridge debris.  Christmas presents floated around them, and suddenly, Albert’s dream became clear. It seemed to take hours, but eventually they made it to shore on the Point Pleasant side of the bridge.

They collapsed on the grounding, chests heaving and bodies shivering as adrenaline seeped away, leaving them cold and scared.

Then, they were hugging, holding on for dear life as they came down from the high of yet another near death experience.  

“Jesus Christ,” Albert muttered into his ear, “Did that really just happen?”

They broke apart and Race held his face in both hands, numb fingers brushing over blue parted lips, “I don’t fucking know.”

Albert surged forward, capturing Race in a kiss.  For a moment, Race felt warm, a spark in him igniting- a simple flame burning against the bitter cold.  He kissed back, trying to convey every ounce of love and fear and sheer understanding into that singular action.

They were alive.  They were safe.

January 1, 1968

Albert and Race trudged through the snow outside Race’s house, watching as their new adopted dog, Queso, bounded in front of them.

The events of the year previous still followed them like a shadow, but they were grounded.  Since the collapse of the Silver Bridge, mothman encounters had ceased, no longer plaguing the people of Point Pleasant.

Things were far from okay, but as Albert and Race healed together, their love grew stronger.  

They were okay.

-

anyway i guess thats what i get for watching too many mothman documentaries this weekend lolol

had to add queso in there somewhere

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

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[just-mostly-dead]

“How did you two meet?”

Starring: Arthur L. W. Freeman, Nanette Calhoun Description: What happens when you ask me how and why Nanette Calhoun of all people would get together with Arthur.

@pleasantprefects ((Pleasant Prefects is HPRP server))

Lightning flashed. Thunder cracked. The rain continued to pour, and the game went on. Peeling cries if the crowd roaring above the raging storm, surrounding the players as they flow through the onslaught.

Arthur reared his broom to a short pause, wiping away the rain on his goggles to inspect the field. Picking apart the teams by color. Brilliant, if soggy, uniforms of the Appleby Arrows mixed in with the shocking yellow of his own team: the Wimbourne Wasps.

A smile, despite the rain and cold, was plastered on his face. It was a match for the history books! Two rival teams in a stalemate match. Six hours into the game and they were locked 50-50. Arthur was sure he hadn't seen the Seekers in hours, the two flying circles around one another as they sought the elusive Golden Snitch.

He was about to cheer for his fellow teammate as they made another successful goal when he heard it. A whistling noise just below the wind and crying fans.

That damned Bludger again.

Swiveling his broom with ease he batted the blasted thing away and zipped across the pitch to keep the distance between them. The small moments of respite he'd gotten throughout the game, never able to breathe for but a moment before the Bludger came for him again.

Guilt bubbled in his stomach at the thought. Arthur was more focused on not being knocked from his broom than the game itself. It kept coming. Again and again. Every few moments he would be beating the damned thing away, dashing to an opposite point on the field just so he might keep watch over the team. Only for the cat and mouse game to behind again.

“The wasps have the Quaffle! Are we about to see the tie broken after an hour-long stalemate!?”

The crowd roared as another roll of thunder blazed across the sky. Grinning, Arthur, kicked off again. Aiming to keep close in case the Bludgers decided to aim at the rest of his team.

Beaten by the rain he burst across the field. Flying above his team and the rival Chasers. They were almost at the goal posts when it came again. The whistle of the Bludger. Groaning Arthur span in place to beat it away, almost a half moment too late as he got a good look at the balls texture before it was whizzed off into the distance again.

His happy smile fell a moment later when a gasp erupted from the crowd and the whistle called for a time out. Looking down again he saw his partner Beater not far from their Chaser. A failed goal.

He was the last to land for their quick meeting. A heated conversation, come and exhaustion seeping into the tones of those talking. All Arthur could think of the close call that he'd missed. Before he could remount his broom after the huddle, his coach grabbed his arm, and Arthur could already feel his ears burn.

“Head in the game, rookie.”

With a nervous swallow, he gave a thumbs up and all but jumped into the air. Anything to get away from the knitted brow of his disappointed coach.

He was trying. He was a rookie, though, and just trying didn't matter.

The next hour was just as bad as the last. His goggles fogged often, he chest heaved from the effort. And he was sure he already had bruises.

Head in the game.

Eye on the team. The Bludger was still coming. But he tried to ignore it. Keeping the offending object away moved to the back burner in favor of attempting to play more aggressively. Though, attempts to beat the fighting Bludger at the opposite team were fruitless. Just giving himself less time to maneuver before it curved back towards him.

Time drew on and he could hardly see straight anymore. Arms aching he beat the Bludger away again. Chasing after the team as they raced towards the Appleby goal. They could at least break the tie…

“Look up there! The Seekers have spotted the Snitch! Could this be it! Is the match about to be decided?!”

Arthur craned his neck behind him, spotting the twirling spiral of red and yellow that we're plunging high above the field. The crowd erupted, equal halves screaming for both teams in the volatile match.

Through his gasping breaths, he smiled. His teams Seeker seemed to be reaching higher than the Appleby's they might have a chance, they -

Then he saw it.

A little black spot rising from the darkened pitch towards the Seekers. The other Bludger. Already kicking on the back his broom to spin that direction, he looked for his fellow Beater. The other busy guarding the rest of the team as the goal attempt turned into a fight for the Quaffle.

Biting his cheek he sped after the other Bludger.

“Look at then go. The Appleby Seeker seems to be reaching for it but - No the Wasps Seeker is going for it. It's neck and neck I can't see anything, this is the game of the century for these two rivals!”

Arthur flow through the shadow beneath the Seekers. Unnoticed by all as he chased the Bludger attempting to bite at his Seekers feet. He pulled his bat back, knuckles turning white as he tightened his grip. His body held close against his broom Arthur burst up and released all the energy behind the swing.

Rocketing the Bludger back down away from the Seeker. He cried out in relief to himself as a roll for cheers echoed over the Pitch.

“One of them had it. One of them has the Snitch! Arms up come on who's done it!”

Swiping hair out of his face Arthur look up, unable to distinguish the two Seekers as they sat above the crowd. One's arms out in triumph. The Golden Snitch glistening as a flash if lightning cracked over the field.

And then he heard it - too close and too to stop it.

Arthur turned in time to see the Bludger inches before himself.

“They've done it! The -”

He didn't hear who got the Snitch. All he heard was the sickening crack of his own chest as the Bludger forced him from his broom. Cascading down while the crowd stood, all on the pitch looking to the moment of triumph that he was slowly slipping further away from.

Funny, Arthur thought. He'd never fallen off a broom before. Not once.

Moments before he hit the ground he had a final thought:

There was a first for everything.

Waking up to a splitting headache. Arthur had two thoughts.

It was good to be fucking warm again.

Who won?

That thought almost had him bursting from his bed. Only for hands to push him back down into sheets. A gloved hand.

“Coach! Where are we at? Who won?”

“Calm yourself, rookie. We're at St. Mungo's.”

“Mungo's…? Oh, that blasted bludger. I tried I really did. I couldn't keep an eye on them both, though, but who won?”

“Calm down! You yell too much I'm going to get kicked out. The team has already been banned to the waiting area.”

“Sorry…” he let himself fall against the bed, “but… coach -”

“We lost, rookie”

Arthur's heart sunk. They'd fought so hard. Trained so hard. And they still couldn't pull through. Still. He forced a smile through the pain.

“Next time… right coach?”

The man shook his head, exasperated no doubt, “Yeah… yeah. Next time Freeman.”

They sat for who knows how long before the clicking of heels announced a newcomer. Led by one of the many nurses at the hospital was Elizabeth. Arthur's smile melted into a gentle, almost boyish grin at the sight of his wife. Beautiful as always.

“Looks like Lizzie is here for you Artie, I'll see you soon. You did well today.”

“Bye coach”, he turned to Elizabeth, “hello love.”

“Arthur.”

She was picking through a packet of papers she'd carried in with her.

“Did you listen to the game love? I hope they didn't announce what happened, I would hate for Symphony to hear that.”

“You know I don't let her listen to the games, Arthur.”

“I know… but it was the rival team. Surely you could have -”

“Sign these.”

Apparently, she'd found what she was after in the packet and had thrust the bunch under his nose.

“Oh! Release papers? Great! I'm itching to see how my broom fared after that fall. The team'll want to go out but I'm sure I can convince them to let me split off. Spend some time with -”

He cut himself off. They were not release papers.

“Lizzie, what is this?”

She said nothing. Arthur felt like his heart had stopped. Or like he was falling again. The top of his paper, the paper he'd stupidly signed out of blind trust, did not read ‘St. Mungo's Release Form’.

Though his vision was suddenly not clear enough to read it all he caught the most important word.

‘Divorce’.

“Lizzie?”

“Sign the papers Arthur.”

“Lizzie, what's going on? Is this a joke?”

“It's not a joke. Just sign them.”

“What's wrong? Why do you want this? What about Symphony?”

“It's over Arthur? I'm not dealing with your half-assed career anymore. I will not be the rookie's wife the rest of my life.”

He would have to tell the nurse to close the window, the rain was getting on his face.

“But - Lizzie we've had it so good. Symphony.”

“Symphony constantly begs for a broom. I'm tired of it. Quidditch… ridiculous. Your family had the right idea. I had the right idea. You should have gone into law. But instead, you're here.” She made a gesture at him, face curling in disgust, “I’m not doing this, it was fun once but you're always going to be a damned rookie. And I don't want to be trapped when one of damn Bludgers  beat what little intelligence is left in that meathead of yours.”

“Lizzie-”

“My name is Elizabeth!”

His mouth floundered for words. After a moment he signed the final line on the papers. Elizabeth spared little time to snatch them from his hands. Already turning to leave.

“I'm going home, I'll send for the last of my things next week.”

“What do I tell Symphony?”

“I don't care. Just don't write to me about it.”

“Liz-... Elizabeth. Just tell me what I did wrong? I thought we were in love.”

She groaned two steps from the exit, “Nothing. I just don't love you anymore.”

He really needed that window to be closed. He gasped and hiccupped into his hands. Clutching his chest as every little movement aggravated the bruising there. Arthur wasn't sure how long it was that he sat there. Caught between trying to catch his breath and thinking of what exactly he was supposed to do.

Wishing for nothing more right now than his young girl, though, she was no doubt at home with her nanny. Completely oblivious to what had just transpired.

Maybe an hour later he heard the tapping sound of approaching heels. In shock he snapped his head up biting through the pain that jolted through him at the motions, looking to what he hoped was -

“Lizzie I-”

He stopped. The woman before him was not Elizabeth. She had long, reddish hair and some Ministry badge in hand. The only thing she shared right now with Elizabeth was the stern look on her face.

“I… sorry.”

“Yes… well. I'm Nanette Calhoun with the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad. Do you have a few moments for some questions about your game Mr. Freeman?”

“I… of course, what does the Magic Reversal Squad care about our game, though?”

“There is a suspicion that a Bludger at the game was hexed. The Department of Magical Games and Sports asked us to look into it. Now. If we may?”

“Hexed…”

“Mr. Freeman?”

“Yes. Yes of course.”

Arthur would do his best to give answers, but for some reason, he couldn't draw his eyes away from the divorce document sitting on his end table throughout the entire conversation.

As lovely as Nanette was… he already had a suspicion as to what her investigation would lead to.

“Last question Mr. Freeman. Is there anyone you know that would have the motivation to attack you?”

“Well…”

“Anything helps Mr. Freeman.”

He looked to the end table again, the woman's eyes followed after. She already seemed to know what he was implying.

“Alright. That's all for now. We'll be in touch, Mr. Freeman.”

“Thank you…”

All Arthur could think as the woman was leaving was that Elizabeth had always told him he was an idiot.

[all-good-things-dot-dot-dot]

All Good Things… The Good With the Bad.

All Good Things… The Good With the Bad. #Blog #Bloggerstribe #AllGoodThings… 24th June 2020 Hello, Chaps and Chapettes,

(Source: https://www.keengamer.com/articles/guides/list-of-common-fallout-4-pc-errors-and-how-to-fix-them/ ) It might have seemed like I stopped for a little bit there, huh? In actual fact, I have still been writing, but more or less in the background rather than doing a full-on post like this. Does that mean I’ve been “neglecting my duties” or “forgetting the challenge” I set myself to write for thirty minutes a day? Well, sort of. I cannot lie. Let’s see if we can analyze what happened here and correct the error, shall we? The main hiccup was actually on Friday where I did not write anything at all. I did end up writing that blog on Saturday and followed it up with the actual Saturday blog which I wrote and posted on Sunday, but by then I was already going back on several guidelines that I’d set myself. The first was to ensure that I wrote thirty minutes a day, this was missed on Friday, and the second was to have a break on Sunday.

I’ll come back to Friday in a bit and how I’ll resolve that in the future but I also want to talk about why Monday and Tuesday also didn’t happen. Monday was an oddly exhausting day. The heat has been creeping up this week, today being the hottest so far, but Monday was still cool. I had to take a nap after work and then when I did sit down to write, what I wanted to write was not one of these. Instead, I wanted to work on “Scoundrels”, a story about colorful ponies living in apocalyptic times. They swear, take drugs, shoot guns, it’s fun to write. The reason I wanted to write that, was because on Tuesday I attended an online workshop by a fellow writer who goes by the codename “Somber”. I know there’s non-bronies who read this on my Tumblr so, to summarise, they wrote a particularly famous FanFiction called “Fallout Equestria; Project Horizons”, millions of peeps have read it. It’s also a spin-off from an equally successful story called “Fallout: Equestria” (written by another fanfiction writer, KKat). Somber has a background teaching English so a class on Creative Writing was practically extra studies for my university course!

(Art by me, see https://derpibooru.org/images/2200843 )

The workshop was brilliant. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to workshop my story as we ran out of time but I didn’t feel too down about this. I made friends with a few other fellow writers and so could happily learn and share ideas with them. This ran on quite late and by the time it had ended, the clock was telling me I wouldn’t wake up for work if I didn’t attempt to sleep. That, neatly, leads me to today. As you can see, although I’ve had a busy day of work, walking to and from the shops and watching “Game Night” with my brother, I still managed to find the time to write this. That’s because tonight I had the time. That’s important. Friday, the time wasn’t there. I had to be there for a friend who was in need and since my chat, I have it on good authority that their life is looking up. Sunday was father’s day and I wanted to see both dad and stepdad, which I accomplished. Both men had a great day and felt loved, which was another mission accomplished. Sunday night was blitzed by a migraine and it took two paracetamol two hours to put those fires in my brain out. Monday, as said, was a very tiring day. But I also spent time writing something, even if it wasn’t this. So there was still something completed by the close of the day. Tuesday, there was work, I had my mother pop over for something, I had to cook dinner, and despite all of this still managed to make Somber’s workshop and find writing allies. Do you see where I’m going with this? Basically, just because you don’t get done what you wanted to do, do not look at it as a wasted day. Even a rest day is a success, so long as it is used to let you prepare for some harder work ahead. You are not failing if you didn’t hit that word count, or forgot to do something you wanted to do, or missed that walk to slim down the spare tractor tyre your gut has become. Even little accomplishments are still a win in the grand scheme of things and believe me they make all the difference. And sometimes, if someone you know, care about, or love is in need of you, then you should down tools to help them. Let me reiterate that it should be somebody you care about or at least someone who will return the favor along the line. There are people, even family, who can be a drain on your time, resources, and energy. I learned that the hard way last week (see my blog about bullies). Follow your head in these instances, especially if it is aligned with your heart. Most of all, I want you to take this away with you. Did you wake up today? Do you know how many didn’t get out of bed? Pulled a sickie? Or gave up? You didn’t so in that sense you’re already winning. Now go treat yourself to some cake, champ, you earned it. Stay safe, stay happy. All good things, Love, Scaramouche. X Oh, eerrrr, still here? Okay, let me square with you. Thirty mins just ran out but I wanted to include this; I am writing a spin-off of that “Fallout: Equestria,” series too, as I mentioned, called “Scoundrels”. I did have a lot of the story already up in my FIMFiction library, but I have unpublished it. Here are my reasons; I didn’t like how confusing it was. It felt like it started in the middle of a story. I had made choices as a writer that took the story in some strange directions. I made the plot too complicated. I made some of the good characters unlikeable. I made it too long while not much/ too much happened. So, I am holding onto what I wrote. I want to rewrite it, so that story that you may or may not have read does still exist and isn’t a waste of time, it just needs surgery. When it’s ready, you’ll be able to see it again. Until then, here’s a sneak peek at “Scoundrels”, the ponies of the apocalypse story I will be writing, have edited and polished before I publish it as fanfiction. Enjoy!

(Artist: Brainiac - see https://derpibooru.org/profiles/Brainiac ) ~ Scoundrels Written by Scaramouche “War,” a voice, masculine and gravelly, haunted my hangover. “War never changes.” It wasn’t much, but it was enough to stir me from where I’d attempted to make my early grave. My snout had the telltale feeling you got when you accidentally snorted water while submerged in a pool... Or hit too much Dash. I pushed my hooves out around me before my eyes were able to open and felt tiny canisters rattle away from me wherever I moved. My ribs hurt, telling me I hadn’t found a nice or even barely comfortable place to flop. The information fed back to me from all my senses came to the conclusion that I’d bucked up again. Daring to wake, I cracked my eyes open for as long as I could muster and fluttered the lids ‘til I could make out the shapes of a flickering square of light in the night-time room. Black and white images flashed through the screen of ponies dressed in armor and uniforms, those in the foreground attempting an escape with their wounded while the “best and bravest” continued to fight, to injure, to die. The image changed to Wonderbolts tearing over a coal cloud that once belonged to a shining city. I realized it was Manehattan, the place I’d hailed from. I knew from the shadow of a building topped with a huge pony head choking on the fumes. The Pegasi just seemed like haunting crows over that havoc. After the Manehattan skyline lingered for a few seconds, it switched to a shot taken behind ponies hiding from the invisible foe in a shady tunnel. Their silhouettes were huddled and perpetually expecting the worst of what was to come. Image after image along with the low, tedious voice seemed to mingle with the throbbing headache I’d gained. It reminded me that as gloomy as these images were, they were only the precursor for the apocalyptic times that came after them. I watched, laid lazily on my side among spent stims I’d used to forget the woes of the new world. I couldn’t help thinking that those dumb saps who had lived nearly a hundred years ago never knew how lucky they were. They could still trust the folks either side of them and that was more than could be said for most ponies this side of a century. “... But out of the devastation that arose from the wars, a few were able to reach stables that could house and shield them underground.” The narrator of the scenes kept going with his spiel regardless of whether I was listening or not. I looked about, but it quickly became apparent to me that the voice was just that. A recording from a stallion no doubts long gone now. There was nopony else in the place but for me that I could see. Nonetheless, he persisted. “Your family was part of that group and took refuge in Stable Thirteen.” On-screen, a snap of the giant cog that had once locked up this subterranean vault could be seen. “No, they weren’t, pal,” I grouched, squinting about the area still while battling with some persistently annoying amber locks of mane in my eyes. Something in this place was still trying to live, based on the squealing of a harmed fan spinning in the walls. Thanks to the projection lamp, I could see the tiles that dripped from the ceilings as age and erosion pulled them down. Wires knotted into nooses hung out from the ceiling gaps. Across dirty, rusted floors, the corpses of chairs lay on their sides and backs, stricken by the last unknown executions that had taken place here. Near me and my graveyard of used drug containers, a card crate lay on its side in a beaten state. “You are the first generation born in this stable to have not known the-the-the--” Apparently, I still wasn’t to know what “the” was. Above me, the box that had created this depressing light and sound show for me fizzed, crackled, sparked, then died. All light failed and draped a veil casually over me and space. Yet, this wasn’t as terrifying to me as might have been to somepony else. I sighed, relaxed, and let the gentle black patch encourage my head to heal. The festering stable was dead, the complaining sounds of the vents now a memory, and it was good. It was calming. I could maybe forget everything and fall back into a graceful slumber with it. After all, a ship in the harbor is a ship that’s safe... Of course, fate intervened. “Breeze! Breeze, where are you?” The voice was distant, but it was growing closer. “Gypsy Breeze, I swear on the spirit of Celestia, if you don’t get your ass into gear…” Fresh, battery-powered light began to dawn around the edges of the forever-open doorway into the corridors, confirming that the calling, living voice wasn’t far from finding me. “Buck,” I grunted to myself and pushed back the pain sloshing side to side in my cranium. I had to get myself up before they found me and the evidence littered around me. My legs complained but lifted me, allowing me to stand and let my brain cease paddling about in my skull. I swung a hoof out, brought it down, then my face immediately met the oxidized floor once more as a giggling Dash inhaler tripped me and twirled away. “Breeze?” They’d heard my tumble. “Buck,” I hissed painfully and scrambled back up, firing up a spell. I knew the caller in the halls would see the light but hoped I’d be quick enough. Despite the magic throbbing behind my junked-out eyes, I gathered all the emptied Dash I could see in the enchanted light. Catching as many as I could levitate, I shoved them into the deteriorated box, managing to slip the last of them away when a blinding orb swung through the door. I covered my bleary eyes and snarled out at a feeling only a vampire pony in the baking sun would understand. “Gypsy!” The dazzling sprite squeaked. “That’s my name— Buck, Hayfever, could you drop the light of that thing? My bucking eyes are about to explode…” mercifully, the beam lowered to ground level, allowing me to partially see the mare I knew behind it. Her sunset orange wings were spread in preparation to once more admonish me while the expression on the pegasus remained concerned. “You split from me again, Breeze. Ottawa said this stable is particularly dangerous, we shouldn’t be going off alone when--” “Ottawa was wrong,” I skulked somehow towards the door and waved my hoof back the way she’d come from. “I caught a terminal back up that way and… I dunno, something about the water talisman failing? Either way, the pony meant to fix it shuffled out the main door, and never came back. After that, the rest of the dwellers overthrew the overstallion and let themselves out of their own accord. Probably likely that nopony’s been here since.” If I’d have sounded more sure of myself in that last comment, I might not have seen doubt spread across her freckled, gold-lit face. “No, somepony has been here before us,” she suggested, “I found the mattresses pulled out of their rooms and laid together in the atrium. There was waste and broken gear that could only have come from outside too. Could be scavs, could be raiders, either way, we don’t want to take our chances.” “It could have easily been the Stable Thirteen ponies too,” I countered, “especially if they were going back and forth in and out of here, not wanting to--” I interrupted myself, as a false step kicked something, which ricocheted off of the metal wall and swirled unfortunately into the light of Hayfever’s torch. It only took her a second to realize what it was and I was already cringing guiltily when the light raised back accusingly at me. “Gypsy Breeze, you silly mare,” she scolded as well as any experienced mother could, “Using? Again? I thought you were beating this.” “It’s not mine,” I played the part of a lying teenager as best as I could, “it’s from those raiders you were bitching about--” “Oh, so now we believe in the raiders?” She had another quick examination of the inhaler and sighed, ruffling her wings in irritation as she walked past me, ensuring her hoofsteps echoed her annoyance. “When I agreed to hide your troubles from the rest of Helping Hooves, it was on the promise that you were going to make an effort to quit from them. Not so that you could privately indulge in the stuff.” She collected my saddlebag, discarded on a spineless chair, and was about to toss it to me when she had second thoughts. At my protests, she flipped the flap open first and rifled through up, digging out what she had expected to find almost instantly. Five more full inhalators of Dash were plucked out and tossed into the void of the room before she was comfortable returning my near-empty sack to me. “I’m not doing it to be an ass to you, Gypsy,” she said as I mournfully took the bag and slipped it back on. “As mayor of Helping Hooves I have a duty to look out for everypony and that includes you. But if you’re going to endanger lives this way, I’ll have no choice but…” I waited for what kind of penalty she’d place on me. Yet, all she could do was gaze at me, not mad, just disappointed. I gave a low groan, both out of the pain of coming down and the guilt of letting down a mare who was just looking out for my best interests. “Can we just get out of here?” I pleaded, “the air in here is making me feel sick.” “You sure it’s just the air?” She thrust a hoof forward, directing me on the way to head next. “But you’re right. Let’s just get the spark batteries Ottawa needs and high-tail it out of here…” To be continued...

(Source: https://thegeek.games/2020/03/24/fallout-3-war-war-never-changes-retro-2008/ )

[quicksilversquared]

Hiccup Havoc

When Adrien gets the hiccups and an akuma hits, Chat Noir has to fight while still hiccuping the whole way, throwing off their sneak attacks on the akuma. Add in one frustrated Ladybug who is set on curing Chat Noir's hiccups no matter what it takes, and they're bound to have an interesting fight.

(AO3) (FF.net)

Adrien hiccuped, winced, and then cringed as the eyes of nearly everyone in the classroom turned on him. Marinette found herself wincing sympathetically as Adrien rubbed his chest. He had just started hiccuping a few minutes before and clearly was uncomfortable with both the feeling that the hiccups were causing and the looks he was getting whenever people heard him.

"Dude, you all right?" Nino hissed as Adrien tried to muffle another hiccup and failed. "Do I need to, like, try to scare you or something?"

"I'm fin-HIC!-fine," Adrien insisted. He cringed again.

"No talking during class," Madam Mendeleiev said without turning around. "Any more talking and I'll start handing out detentions."

Nino ducked his head down to focus on his assignment and Adrien muffled another hiccup. Marinette gave Adrien a comforting look- well, she gave the back of his head a comforting look, Adrien didn't actually even see it- and then went back to her own work. She could see his shoulders occasionally give a little jerk as he smothered hiccups, one after another, for the rest of the class. Only a couple more hiccups actually slipped out at full volume, attracting glances from classmates and glares from Madam Mendeleiev. He ducked his head lower every time, cringing until class ended and they could leave.

Adrien had hiccuped his way almost all the way to their next class- study hall- when Alya gasped, bringing their group to a halt.

"What now?" Nino asked as Alya swiped frantically at her phone. "Oh, let me guess- an akuma?"

"Of course! And Ladybug and Chat Noir are going to be there soon- ugh! And I can't go, the teachers would never let me go out to cover it." She perked up. "Maybe the fight will end up coming near the school!"

"You know, that's generally- HIC!- not a good thing," Adrien added. He cringed a little and rubbed his throat before continuing. "Maybe you should wish for a quick end to the fight so that you aren't missing much."

"That's no fun!" Alya protested, even as Nino tugged her forward down the hall towards their next class. "I don't get any original footage then, and then I have to rely on TV recordings to do my reports and that doesn't do the Ladyblog any good."

"Skipping class doesn't do your grades any good," Nino pointed out. They approached the classroom and Nino gently pushed Alya inside, ignoring her pouting.

"I think I'm gonna run to the bathroom before class starts," Marinette said quickly before she could enter the room. She took a quick step back, then another. "I'll, uh, be right back!"

Before anyone could say anything, Marinette turned and dashed away down the stairs towards the bathrooms. She had to get away and transform before the akuma could cause too much trouble.

Ladybug jumped over the Paris rooftops, heading for the highest point close to her so she could try to figure out where the akuma was. She didn't see anything, so she grabbed her yo-yo and pulled up the TV report that was streaming. Madam Chamack was reporting, of course, and she was standing in the shadow of a building near the Louvre. A colorful akuma was rampaging around in the background, darting in and out of the camera frame. Ladybug didn't wait to listen to whatever Madam Chamack was saying, since she knew from experience that the reporter's information usually wasn't terribly helpful to anyone not trying to avoid whatever strange akuma Hawkmoth had created most recently.

It would be easier to just go over there and watch the akuma for a minute before charging in and taking him down.

Snapping her yo-yo shut, Ladybug took off again. She moved quickly over the rooftops, swinging between buildings and jumping over roads as she made a beeline to the Louvre. After months of akuma fighting, she moved way faster (and way quieter) than she had when she first became Ladybug. It took barely any time to get to the Louvre and land out of sight on a nearby building. Ladybug crept closer to the edge, eyes narrowing as she watched the akuma down below. As far as akumas went, this one didn't seem particularly bad. It was just spray painting anything and everything it could reach. Still, appearances could be deceiving. She and Chat Noir would go all-out, just like they always did, and if the akuma was as easy as it seemed then maybe she could get to class before she was missed too much.

It was always nice when she could pull that off.

As the akuma moved down the street, Ladybug prowled along behind. She was focused on the akuma, watching his every move-

"HIC!"

Ladybug shot nearly a meter into the air as she jumped and spun around, sliding into battle position. Her eyes scanned the rooftop, searching for a threat...

...and found a sheepish Chat Noir instead.

"Sorry," Chat Noir said quietly as he crept down the roof to join her. "I can't seem to- HIC!- get rid of my hiccups today. Normally they don't last this long."

"Ah, poor kitty," Ladybug teased as Chat Noir jumped down the last half-meter and together they jogged forward after the akuma. "The hiccups must be going around today. There was someone in my class who was having the same problem earlier."

"Great! I'm not alone in my- HIC!- misery then," Chat Noir managed to joke. He winced. "It's honestly starting to hurt a bit, I've been- HIC!- hiccuping for so long."

"Well, maybe the akuma will scare the hiccups out of you," Ladybug said, pointing to the supervillain down below. Clearly he had heard Chat Noir, because he was looking up at them now with a particularly devilish look on his face. "It looks like he's just painting things, but be careful. The paint might do something to us if we get hit."

"I'm always careful," Chat Noir claimed with a grin on his face. He pulled his baton off of his back and gave it a twirl. "Ready to kick some akuma ass?"

Thankfully, the paint doesn't hurt them at all when they get hit. Still, that doesn't make it harmless. Pressurized paint plus a superhero transformation equals a spraypaint blast that can both dye them bright colors and knock them nearly two blocks away. Charging at the akuma only led to them being blown off of their feet and stumbling back covered in a fresh layer of paint.

And to top it all off, Chat Noir hadn't stopped hiccuping yet. It was throwing them off of their game. He would flinch or pause whenever he hiccuped, or he would give away his position with a particularly loud hiccup. It had happened a few too many times, and Ladybug was getting fed up.

The hiccups had to stop.

There weren't any 100 percent effective ways to stop hiccups, Ladybug knew that. But she knew of some things that sometimes worked. She could insist that she and Chat Noir slip into a restaurant to grab a glass of water for him to sip from, but the akuma probably wouldn't let them slip away. Her father had once said something about sipping hot sauce or honey, but the same problem applied there. A quick search on her yo-yo between attacks suggested sucking on a lemon or eating peanut butter.

Seriously, didn't they have any suggestions that would work on the go, or in the middle of an akuma attack? And why did the suggestions all involve food of some sort?

The fight tumbled across the city, gradually edging in the general direction of Collège Françoise Dupont. Ladybug ground her teeth as Chat Noir hiccuped again, giving away their position for what seemed like the zillionth time. She ducked away in time to avoid the electric blue burst of paint, but Chat Noir was not so lucky. He tumbled away down the street, letting out muffled yelps the whole way.

"This. Is. Ridiculous," Ladybug growled. She snapped her yo-yo open again, scanning the page of hiccup cures. One person suggested scaring the unfortunate hiccup-er, and another person mentioned that holding their breath for a bit helped rid them of hiccups. Both of them wouldn't be easy to do during an akuma attack, but Ladybug was getting desperate.

So when Chat Noir went tearing after the akuma, Ladybug swung around to the side, just out of Chat Noir's field of view. Landing in the middle of the next street over, she raced up the street. Chat Noir's green pawprint locator blinked away on her yo-yo's screen as she ran, intent on gaining enough ground to pull this off right. After a few seconds, Chat Noir slowed for a moment- either he was wondering where she was or was dodging a spray of paint from the akuma- and then he sped up again. It wasn't much of a pause, but it was enough.

Ladybug took a hard right and somersaulted into position.

"I'll paint the entire city!" the akuma bellowed, coating an entire building in electric green and spraying a more focused shot behind him towards Chat Noir before racing onwards. "They can't remove it all!"

"You can't paint walls without permission!" Chat Noir yelled back. "That's called- HIC!- graffiti!"

The akuma howled. "It's art!"

Ladybug watched as Chat Noir shot back a fast retort, drawing ever closer to her hiding spot. His focus was completely on the akuma, so he was sure to be surprised when she shot out. Her sneak attack might add some time to their fight, but then again, if she could get Chat Noir to stop hiccuping...

Ladybug pounced.

Chat Noir yelped as he and Ladybug tumbled across the road. He gave an almighty twist, dislodging Ladybug easily, and flipped to his feet in the same move. His baton whistled as he spun it defensively in front of himself with a yell. Bright green eyes darted back and forth looking for an enemy. They finally settled on Ladybug, sitting stunned in the street.

The baton spun to a confused stop.

"...what on earth," Chat Noir managed, finally putting his baton away. "...what were you trying- HIC!- trying to do, my lady?"

"I was trying to scare the hiccups out of you," Ladybug admitted, accepting Chat Noir's hand. He pulled her to her feet in one smooth move. "Apparently it didn't work."

Chat Noir hiccuped again, then gave her a rueful smile. "Yeah, apparently not. Maybe it's because I was already in fight mode. Like, even if-HIC!- I could see the akuma up ahead, I was kind of expecting side attacks." He paused and frowned. "That's not quite right. It's more like- it's a fight, right? We never know quite what to expect. It's different each time. During some fights, we do have zombies attacking from the sides. We have sneaky akuma that come out from wherever. As sad as it is- HIC!- I'm kind of used to it."

Ladybug sighed.

By the time they caught up to the akuma again, he was spray-painting Collège Françoise Dupont with a slightly fuzzy, out-of-focus version of Starry Night. The school definitely wasn't the best painting surface- the- bricks around the windows stuck out a little, and then the windows themselves weren't holding the paint quite as well as the rest of the building- but it was still a somewhat decent painting.

"What- HIC!- what do we do now?" Chat Noir asked. "Keep trying to char- HIC!- charge him, or do you want to try something else?"

"Try something else," Ladybug decided. "Let's figure out where he'll move next, and then we'll do an ambush attack. If we catch him by surprise, maybe we can get his spray can before he recovers."

"He's moving towards the bakery," Chat Noir pointed out. "Let's go over there. If we run, we can probably- HIC! -probably get around and into an ambush spot without him noticing."

Ladybug gave a sharp nod. "All right. Let's go."

They ran.

"Behind that grey car," Chat Noir panted as they skidded around the last corner. "And then we can move- HIC!- move forward to end up behind the blue car. That should be close enough for an ambush."

"Sound good," Ladybug panted back, and they dove as one behind the grey car. They both tucked into somersaults and rolled past two more cars to come to a stop behind the blue car Chat Noir had pointed out. There they crouched and waited.

"He's coming this way," Ladybug hissed after a minute. "Ready?"

Chat Noir nodded and tightened his grip on his baton.

The spraypainting akuma had decided on painting something modern and abstract on the side of the school building. Neon green sprayed out in a geometric pattern, outlined in black. Over the next minute, he worked his way down the building towards the superheroes' hiding place. They tensed, waiting nervously for the akuma to draw close enough to pounce.

As they waited, Ladybug kept one eye on the akuma and one on her partner. One hiccup could give away their position. So far, he had managed to keep quiet, but-

Oh no.

As the akuma got closer, still hovering just outside of striking distance, Ladybug could see the obvious signs that Chat Noir was going to hiccup again. So without a pause for thought, she lunged. One hand clapped over his mouth, sealing his lips together, while the other pinched his nose shut. Her yo-yo had said something about stopping hiccups by interrupting normal breathing patterns, so if Chat Noir just didn't breathe for a few seconds, maybe-

Rather predictably, Chat Noir let out a startled squeak- muffled, of course- and twisted away, scrabbling at her hands the whole time. Ladybug held on for a second and could have kept her hold longer, had Chat Noir's protest not alerted the akuma to their sneak attack. He spun around and sprayed fuchsia paint at them, and Ladybug had to let go of Chat Noir's face so they could both dive out of the way of the blast.

"What- HIC!- was that for?" Chat Noir hissed as they scampered out of the way of the cars flying through the air. "Are you trying to smother me now? I thought we were partners!"

"The internet said that holding your breath can stop hiccups!" Ladybug yelled back as they retreated to the school rooftop. Down below, students scattered as they tried to find somewhere to hide. "And it looked like you were about to hiccup again!"

"A warning would have been nice!"

"I would have, but Mr. Spraypaint over there would have heard!"

A burst of midnight blue blasted past them, spattering flecks across Ladybug's already paint-covered suit. She sighed and brushed at the paint almost automatically, smearing it across the lemon-yellow color that had hit her earlier.

"If you stand in that spray, your hair might look normal again!" Chat Noir teased as he bounded across the rooftop. He grinned at Ladybug. "Or, well- HIC!- closer to normal than it is now."

Ladybug grumbled as she swung across the courtyard and landed on the other side. Her hair, stiff with paint and still mostly bright pink, stuck up at all sorts of odd angles. Chat Noir's hair was no better. Green, purple, and orange paint made his already messy hair even messier. Some chunks stuck straight up, while other pieces clung to his face and mask. Splatters of turquoise broke up the orange paint that covered his face. His formerly black suit was a patchwork of colors.

"I thought this one would be a fast fight for sure," Ladybug moaned as the spraypainter jumped down and started coating the inside of the school in electric blue. She and Chat Noir dashed into the locker room to get a little space and regroup.

"I'm sorry, I know this would be already over if I didn't- HIC!- have the hiccups," Chat Noir apologized. He cringed. "Maybe I should hang back and only come in if you're having trouble. I wouldn't give- HIC!- away our position that way."

Ladybug was only listening with one ear. She had been busy surveying the locker room for anything she might be able to use to take the akuma down. There were a few abandoned lunches sitting around- had they really been fighting that long?- and her eyes had caught on an abandoned bottle of hot sauce.

If scaring Chat Noir and making him hold his breath didn't get rid of the hiccups, then it was probably a long shot to think that drinking hot sauce might. But Ladybug wanted to end the fight already- and if she were being perfectly honest, the hiccups were really starting to get on her nerves.

Ladybug snagged the hot sauce and trotted after Chat Noir. Her partner realized that she wasn't after him after a few seconds and turned with a puzzled look on his face. His eyes fell on the hot sauce bottle as Ladybug tugged the top off. Chat Noir's eyes widened and then narrowed as he backed away. "No. Nuh-uh. Nope. Not toda- HIC!- not today. Do I even want to know what you're doing with that?"

"My dad says it stops hiccups," Ladybug insisted, bringing the bottle up near Chat Noir's face. "C'mon, you can at least try it-"

Chat Noir made a face and pressed his lips together, leaning away from Ladybug and shaking his head.

"Oh, come on."

He shook his head even more.

"Just a sip?"

"Mm-mmm!" Chat Noir insisted, keeping his mouth shut and shaking his head. Ladybug guessed from the head-shaking that he was still objecting. "Mmm-mmmm-mmmm-mmmm-HIC!"

"It might get rid of your hiccups!"

Chat Noir sent her the darkest look she had ever seen on him and shook his head firmly.

Ladybug groaned, finally capping the bottle and setting it back down. "Fine. You win. How about I ambush, you distract?"

"Sounds good," Chat Noir agreed. He grimaced and ran a hand through his paint-covered hair. "I'll be a walking paint blob by the end of- HIC!- this, but it sounds like a plan."

Ten minutes and one Lucky Charm later, the akuma and his can of spray paint had been taken down. Ladybug's Miraculous Cure had washed over the city, removing paint from buildings and people alike.

"I'll get this guy back where he's supposed to be," Chat Noir volunteered as Ladybug's earrings beeped. "It'll only take me a- HIC!- a couple minutes and I didn't use my powers."

"Thank you, Chat Noir," Ladybug said, holding out her fist for him to bump. "And, uh, good job."

Chat Noir cringed, bumped her fist with his, and took off with another loud hiccup, carrying the spraypainting artist back to where he had come from. Ladybug waited until her partner had vanished over the rooftops before she made her own exit.

"That took way too long," Marinette groaned once she detransformed, hidden behind bushes near the school. "I missed all of study hall again."

"Maybe you should have switched up your strategy earlier," Tikki suggested, reaching for the cookie Marinette handed her. "I mean, you did keep trying the same thing over and over for a while."

"Because we would get so close and then Chat Noir would hiccup! It would have worked if he hadn't caught the hiccups today."

"Marinette..."

Marinette's shoulders slumped. "...okay, maybe I got a little too focused on the surprise attack and trying to get rid of Chat Noir's hiccups. I'll be better in the future about not trying the same strategy over and over if it's not working."

Tikki looked satisfied.

Marinette jogged up the stairs to the school as she checked the time on her phone. It was still early enough that she could probably run home for a quick sandwich for lunch and still get back in time for her first class after lunch-

"Marinette! There you are!"

Marinette glanced up in time to see Alya and Nino rushing at her. They skidded to a stop right before they ran into her. "We were worried that you had gone missing too!"

"Too?" Marinette asked, frowning. That didn't sound good. "...are there other people missing?"

Alya nodded. "We can't find Adrien anywhere, and we've been searching ever since study hall got out." She sent a look at Marinette. "Study hall, which a certain someone else also missed. I was kind of hoping that we would find the two of you, y'know, together."

Marinette blushed fiercely at Alya's eyebrow wiggle.

"Maybe we should split up and keep looking," Nino suggested. "We can cover more ground that way. I've texted him, like, seven times, so if he's already gone home he'll know that we're looking for him."

"It should be easier to look now that a lot of people have headed home for lunch," Alya said. She glanced around at the stream of students trotting down the steps. "No one wanted to leave while the spraypainter akuma was on the loose."

"I'll stay here and keep an eye out for Adrien," Nino said. He nodded towards the familiar silver car that had just pulled up. "That's the Gorilla, so clearly Adrien isn't at home yet. I bet he heard the akuma getting closer while he was still in the bathroom and he decided to hide until it was gone. Maybe his father told him to get away from attacks and hide or something. I almost never see him anywhere near them."

"That makes sense," Alya said. Then she frowned. "Uh, how about I watch Adrien's car and you keep looking? I can't check the boys' bathroom, and neither can Marinette."

Nino agreed, and then they were splitting up to search for their still-missing friend. Marinette trotted up the stairs to the library, figuring that that would be a good place to start. There were some study rooms in the back that people sometimes used for group projects or for hiding from akuma. They would be empty during classes, which would make them a good hiding spot.

"Adrien?" Marinette called quietly as she entered the library. It was pretty empty, which was only expected at this time this early in the semester. "Adrien, are you in here?"

"Check all of the tables first," Tikki suggested. "He might have just decided to study or read instead of going home for lunch."

Marinette was fairly certain that Adrien would have had the decency to let his driver know that he wouldn't need the car, but she checked the tables anyway. Adrien wasn't there (and neither was anyone else), so she headed back to the study rooms.

"Adrien? Are you in here? Adrien?" Marinette peered in the first two rooms, one at a time, and found them both empty. She turned to head towards the third one and tripped right as she got to the door. "Adrie- eep!" Marinette stumbled forward. A strange light flickered from the open door she was next to, but she ignored it as she fought to regain her balance, grabbing the doorframe to keep herself upright. It only took her a short second to regain her balance (after all, she had a lot of experience with tripping and recovering), and then she was straightening back up and glancing in the room. Much to her relief, Adrien was in the room and was spinning around in response to her call.

And much to her surprise, he was white as a sheet.

Chat Noir had dropped the painter back off near the Louvre and then hightailed it back towards the school, hiccuping the whole way. He headed for the library, knowing that there would be empty study rooms that he could use to detransform. It took only a second to pry a window open on one of the empty rooms, and then he jumped inside. The door was open, but there wasn't going to be anyone nearby. It wouldn't be a problem.

"Plagg, cl- HIC!- claws in," Chat Noir managed around another hiccup. His transformation came undone in a flash, and then he heard the one noise he had never wanted to hear.

"Adrie- eep!"

Adrien froze and spun around to see Marinette standing at the door, looking a little startled. All of the blood drained from his face in seconds and his breath caught in his throat.

She must have seen him detransform. She knew that he was Chat Noir. There was no other explanation.

Crud. Plagg would be annoyed with him for not making sure no one was nearby before he detransformed. Ladybug would probably be even more upset with him, since if his identity was compromised, she was in danger as well. The room started to spin.

"I- I can explain!" Adrien stammered quickly, even as his brain flailed for anything he could say that might be remotely useful. He wasn't coming up with much. "I, uh-"

Marinette frowned, looking confused even as he floundered. "Explain? Explain what? You don't have to explain anything, you know. People hide from akuma attacks all the time! No one's gonna judge you for that."

Adrien froze as his brain ground to a stop. Hide from akuma attacks? What? He was Chat Noir, of course he wasn't hiding, Marinette would know tha-

Oh. Oh.

She hadn't seen him detransform after all. She must have been looking for him since he had been missing for study hall and the start of lunch, and then she must have tripped somehow right outside the door. She had been reacting to that, not to him detransforming.

"Right, right, of course," Adrien managed after a too-long pause. Marinette's confused look had faded away to concern, and of course he didn't want to worry his friend. Adrien took a couple small steps back so he could lean against the table. He didn't exactly want his shaking legs to give out from under him and make Marinette worry even more. "I just, uh-"

"Oh! If you're worried about making your driver wait, he just pulled up out front. I'm sure he'll understand why you weren't waiting at the door," Marinette said before Adrien could even try to come up with an explanation that was halfway decent. She waved her phone at him. "Here, I'll text Alya and she can tell your driver that you're on your way down- unless you were planning on staying here and studying over lunch?"

"No, no, I'm coming," Adrien said hastily. He didn't move at all. If Marinette turned around and started walking first, then she wouldn't see how his adrenaline-weakened legs were still shaking under him. He'd be lucky if he could make it down the stairs without tripping over his own feet and falling down headfirst. Maybe he should wait a few minutes first before trying to move. "...actually, there was a book I wanted to find while I was in the library. I'll be down in a couple minutes, okay?"

"Okay!" Marinette said cheerfully. She gave him one last curious look and then turned and left. Adrien waited until her footsteps had faded away before he let out the breath he hadn't even known he had been holding and slumped into the chair closest to him. Plagg zipped out and eyed his Chosen warily.

"Are you okay?"

"Ugh."

"At least she didn't find out your identity," Plagg pointed out. "That's good. I really thought she saw you detransforming."

"Yeah, that's good," Adrien managed. His heart was still racing a million miles an hour, but at least the world wasn't spinning anymore. He paused, trying to focus for a minute before he grinned. "And you know what else is good?"

"What?"

"My hiccups are finally gone!"

[kattyallialchemy]

Nothing but dark: The day off

Chapter 2

AO3

Tags: Fluff, Nightmares, Night Terrors, Feels, Angst

Word count: 3 456

Summary: After being up so long the previous day, Sans decided that they could use day off

Sans was woken up by a ringing of his phone. He grumbled and groped for his phone at the bedside table. When he found it, he stared at the display for a moment trying to focus his eye lights to be able to recognize who was calling. When he realized it was Alphys, he grumbled once more and picked it up.

"What is it?" Sans said, voice still sleepy. He was met with the loud and angry shouting of the lizard guard. He had to put the phone away from his ear. Her voice ringing in his skull.

"Oh my god, Sans! You are late for your lesson, you didn't call me and now you are asking what is it?! You better give me a good explanation why you didn't come!"

Sans slid a hand across his face. "Sorry, Alphys. Yesterday we came back home pretty late and I probably overslept. It won't happen again, I promise."

"Why is that? Did you have any problem with other guards again? If yes, I'll regrade them!" her voice was still pretty loud but she wasn't shouting at least.

"No, it's nothing like that."

Since Sans become a member of the Royal Guard a two months ago, some of the guards tried to force him out. They gave him absurd tasks and were hard on him. Sometimes they had beaten him up. Sans was trying to deal with it on his own, but when he once came with an almost broken arm, he had to tell the truth. He couldn't lie. The guards were immediately fired. Sans didn't agree with Alphys' decision. He just wanted them to stop, but he couldn't do anything about it. Alphys is their captain and they must obey her commands.

"Pap just didn't show up at home and I went looking for him. If I think about it, would it be a problem if we took a day off?"

"Is something happening? Are you two sick?" Alphys slipped from anger to worry.

"No. We are not sick. We are just pretty tired and it's been a long time since we had a day just for us. I miss spending time with Pap."

There was silence at the other side for a moment before Alphys spoke up. "Ok. But just because it's you. And I warn you if I found out you are sick..." Alphys was cut-off by Sans' chirpy voice.

"Thank you very much Alphys! See you tomorrow."

When Sans hung up, he put his phone back to the bedside table and with long yawn stretched his spine with a quiet pop. When he slipped out of bed, he gathered some clean, more casual clothes and headed to the bathroom. Even when it was late for breakfast, he still had some time before he would go to wake Papyrus.

The hot water was as balsam to his bones. He spends there more time than he needed, just to enjoy the feeling of little hot droplets on his body. When he was finished, he put his dirty clothes in their laundry basket and went to the kitchen. He decided that he would make them at least some snack, so they would not be hungry until lunch.

It wasn't that long ago when Muffet gave him her new recipe. It was some kind of pie. Muffet said that Papyrus was really fond of its sweet honey taste. Sans wanted to try it all week and now seems to be the right moment. Just when he was pulling out needed ingredients, he felt a painful tug in his soul.

His body froze, hands stopped midair and his head shot up to the stairs. The eye lights in his sockets shrank to small pinpricks as he dashed up the stairs to Papyrus' room. Sans slammed the door open to see his brother fight with blankets. Air in the room was cold and heavy. Sans quickly tossed the blanket aside. Papyrus' body immediately stiffened. Sans came closer and studied his face. His eye sockets were wide open, but there was nothing in them. Papyrus almost never used his eye lights, but his eyes never been this... blank. They were empty.

"Pap?" Sans called hesitantly. He reached his hand to Papyrus. But as soon as his fingers touched his brother's arm, Papyrus let out a loud terrified cry and started to fight again, magic sparkling in the air. Free objects in the room started to float. Sans withdraw his hand and jumped back. His mind was running a mile per second. He didn't know what was happening. But he knew that he must stop it. This wasn't a normal nightmare. It never made him react like this. Whatever it was, it could really damage Papyrus' soul, if he didn't stop it.

Ok. First step: immobilize him. Sans jumped at him, trying to hold him down, but he was easily knocked over by Papyrus' long arms. Fine, another way it is then. If you can't take them down by a front, take them down by their back. So Sans pulled Papyrus to sitting position by his arms and quickly shoved himself behind him. Sans hooked his arms under Papyrus' shoulders and locked his legs around his brother's waist. Papyrus started to fight more at the feeling of being trapped, but he couldn't do much more than squirm. They fell back on the bed, Papyrus on a top of Sans. All right, immobilization: checked.

Step two: wake him up. Sans tried to shout at him, but it looks that words won't work. So Sans called for Papyrus' soul. To his dismay, he didn't get an answer. It looked like the soul wasn't there. He searched for it. It was hidden deep down in him, covered by the dark shadow of the nightmare he was trapped in. Sans send a strong pulse of his magic to his brother's core. No response. Panic washed over him. He sends another pulse and another. Nothing. It was like Papyrus refused to accept his call. But Sans wasn't going to give up. He put almost everything he has to this next call. A stabbing pain shot through his soul. Papyrus froze. He was breathing hard and orange light flared in his sockets, looking around frantically. He was awake.

His soul lets out a small beat and Sans immediately caught it, sending warmth and reassurance. Chasing away the shadow and replacing the nightmarish scenes with nice and happy memories. How they had a snowball fight with Alphys and Undyne when they were still kids, how they found their secret place, when Papyrus got the first telescope for his birthday, how they ruined the whole house when their friends came for a sleepover...

Sans carefully pushed them to sitting position, slightly rocking them from side to side in a calming manner. The tension from Papyrus' body slowly disappeared, the magic crackling in the air vanishing, the floating things falling down. Sans eased his grip and moved his hands from Papyrus' shoulders to his ribcage in a tight hug. Kindness and understanding still pouring from his soul. Sans hid his face in the crook of his brother's neck and whispered quietly. "It's alright, Papy. Everything is alright. I got you."

Papyrus' hands fell to his sides. He was staring in front of him, orange light fading from his eye sockets as he took in all the soothing feelings from his brother. His own soul calming down. Sans gradually stopped moving them until they stopped completely. Sans slightly loosen his hold. Papyrus' soul gave panicked ping and his eyes flared again. He quickly grabbed Sans' arms and gripped them tightly. A quiet whimper escaped his mouth. Sans tighten his hold once more. "It's alright, Papy. I got you. I am here. I am not going anywhere."

They sat there who knows how long, holding each other. After some time Sans spoke quietly, not wanting to startle the other skeleton. "I am going to let go, ok? Don't worry. I'll be still here. I won't go anywhere."

Sans slightly loosen his hold. Papyrus' hands slid from Sans' arms and Sans slowly removed them completely. Sans stood up, walked around him and kneel in front of his brother. Papyrus' gaze was turned down. Sans carefully took his hands. "Pap?"

Nothing. Sans gave one last pulse. "Pap, look at me."

Papyrus looked up. He was staring right into Sans' slightly scared, but still strong and reassuring deep blue eyes.

"It's ok to be scared." Sans tried to sound calm, but can't stop his voice from trembling. A small tired smile on his features. "But you are not alone, you know? You have me, Undyne, Alphys, even Muffet. We are here for you. So, if you feel like drowning, just call. We will pull you out."

Tears appeared in Papyrus' eye sockets and he pulled Sans into a tight hug. Sans returned the embrace. He could feel his own tears to spill to match his brother's now loud crying. Sans circled his hand at Papyrus' back, trying to calm down the hiccups that were wrecking his body.

Only now Papyrus let out all his fears and dark thoughts. Even if it was just a faint touch, Sans tried to chase away those cold feelings and replace them with his own warmth. It was after his crying died down to muffled sniffles when Sans pulled away just enough to be able to look at his brother. They were looking at each other with watery eyes, cheekbones stained from the tears.

"I am here. I am not going anywhere." Sans said, his voice small.

Papyrus leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Sans' forehead. "I know, Sans. I know."

After what felt like an eternity of silence, Sans spoke quietly. "Alphys called before and I asked her for a day off. We don't have to go to work today. Wanna go down and watch some TV?"

"Yeah, I'd love that." Papyrus agreed, voice hoarse from crying. Every kind of distraction was welcome.

The both of them went to their living room and sat on the couch. They watched to some new records of Napstaton's show. They sat close to each other, Papyrus' arm resting around Sans' shoulders. Sans knew he would have to ask Papyrus about his nightmare, but he was too tired for it now. And Papyrus would most likely refuse to talk about it. So he decided to let it go for now and don't ruin the little peace they now had.

When the show ended and there was nothing interesting on the program, Sans came up with some board games they once found in the dump in Waterfall. Some of them were in a pretty good state, but sometimes they were without game instructions so they have to come up with their own rules. Plenty of human games were modified for monsters during all those years in the underground. They played Snakes&Ladders, Ludo, and some other games. They even had a bit of fun.

When the time for lunch approached, the brothers moved to the kitchen. Papyrus sat at the table and Sans took his place at the stove, moving away the things that he took out for the pie and taking out new ingredients for lunch. Papyrus' eyes fell on a recipe on the table and examined it closely.

"What is this?" he asked.

Sans turned to see, what he meant. "Oh, this? Muffet gave it to me some time ago. I just wanted to try it, since we have a day off."

"You still wanna try it?"

"Well, yes. But what about lunch?"

"We can have this for lunch. I can help you."

Sans' eyes lit up. "Really? You really want to help me with cooking?"

Papyrus shrugged and smiled a little. "Sure. It could be fun. Maybe I'll even learn something."

Now Sans' eyes were brightly shining big blue stars, a mile-wide smile on his face. He was almost vibrating with excitement. The best part of Sans' nature was his infectious excitement and good mood. Papyrus' smile widened as he felt his own mood brighten up.

Sans started to prepare the topping and Papyrus was making the dough. Sans was almost finished when he felt flour splat at the back of his skull. He stiffened and slowly turned around. Papyrus was still working on the dough, his back turned to him. Sans returned to the topping. After a few minutes, another load of flour landed on his skull. Sans turned instantly. Papyrus was now facing him, arms laxly crossed on his chest and saucy look at his face.

"Oh! So this is how it's gonna be?" Sans said with a malicious smile. He then tossed an egg at Papyrus' face.

"FOOD FIGHT!!" Sans yelled as he grabbed more throwable ingredients. Papyrus wiped the egg from his forehead and joined in.

It didn't take long and the kitchen was completely ruined. The table was knocked over, chairs were scattered around and the food was everywhere. On the floor, on the counter, some eggs even found their place on the ceiling. It looked like a tornado went through here.

Sans and Papyrus were sitting on the floor, both panting, their back leaned against the wall, big smiles on their faces. Sans looked around and grumbled at the disaster.

"Don't think you will escape from cleaning," Sans said when he caught his breath.

"Oh, damn it." Papyrus cursed quietly.

"Language!" Sans admonished him. "Besides, it's all your fault."

"My?" he gasped.

"Yes, yours. You started it." Sans stood up and turned the table back to its legs. Papyrus stood up too and stretched his arms, walking to help Sans with the furniture. When he was passing by the kitchen counter, his attention was caught by the debris of the dough and the topping.

"Welp, there goes the pie."

"Aww... And I wanted to try it." Sans whined.

"Come on, bro. We can make it another time. And you must admit it was fun."

Sans opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by a knock at the front door. When he opened them, he was greeted by Muffet.

"Oh hello, Sans. I just... came... to..." she trailed off at the sight of the dirty skeleton.

"Hello, Muffet. What brought you here?" Sans greeted with a big smile. Papyrus then appeared from the kitchen and joined his brother at the door.

"Sup, Muff," he said, also smiling.

She was staring at them, puzzled. Both of them were covered with eggs, flour and who knows what else with from head to toes. After a minute she crossed all her arms at her chest, forming knowing a smile as a realization hit her.

"So, who won this time?"

Papyrus raised his hand, but Sans quickly nudged him with his elbow. "It was a draw."

Muffet let out her tiny sweet laugh. "Ahuhuhu ~ Ok, but look at you. You look terrible. And I don't want to see the kitchen. So you two go wash up and I'll help you clean around."

"Thanks, Muffet, but you don't have to," Sans said.

"Nonsense. Now go. I'll wait in the kitchen." she ordered them and went straight to look at the mess. Papyrus shrugged and closed the door, heading upstairs to the bathroom. Sans quickly followed him.

When Muffet saw the ruins that were left from the kitchen, she almost had a soul attack. This was the worst mess these two ever made. Even as kids they were more housebroken. Food fighting was their favorite. She couldn't help but feel a little nostalgic.

It felt like it was yesterday, when she found them in the backyard of her shop, looking for some leftovers in the trash. She will never forget the fear in Sans' eyes. Sans was six and Papyrus was just three years old baby. They stayed with her until they got old enough to get a job and move to their own house. Despite the fact that she was glad that she met them, she still curses whoever left them outside at the mercy of their fate. They were just little kids.

She remembered how hard it was to persuade them that they were safe, that no one was going to hurt them or kick them out. It was easier with Papyrus though. He was just a baby, even when he could already function like a much older child. He just didn't understand the situation they were in. He has no memories of the place they were before, or how did they end up homeless. And Sans refused to tell. Sans was in a worse state generally. As small he had a lot of health issues. Skeletons have basically very powerful magic, and Sans was too fragile to hold such power. The worst time was after his magical overflow. He was sick for three weeks. He even needed professional medical treatment in a hospital in New Home. They said that his state was critical and there was nothing much they could do. That day, Muffet felt like her world was shattering. But despite how fragile Sans was, he was incredibly strong and fought every day. And won. She was thanking every god who heard out her prayers.

Muffet was snapped from her thoughts by loud footsteps and turned around. At the door was Sans. His big smile fell.

"Muffet, are you alright? Is something wrong? Why are you crying?"

Muffet raised one hand to her face and felt tears, she didn't know she has spilled. She smiled gently and opened all her arms, inviting Sans into a hug. Sans smiled back and accepted.

"I hope it's not that bad for you, Muff... oh..." Papyrus remained standing in the doorway. Muffet waved at him, telling him to join them. Papyrus shook his head, smiling, and joined the big family hug. His long arms wrapped around the both of them. They were surrounded by a happy and comforting aura. Their souls warm, beating in a synch.

Muffet patted them at the top of their head. "Ok, boys. We have work to do."

The skeleton brothers nodded and let go of her. Muffet then looked around once more and let out a long sight. Sans took the broom, Papyrus took up washing the dishes and Muffet took care of the rest. While she was wiping the counter, she noticed remains of the pie.

"What was this supposed to be?" she asked.

"Well, I wanted to try the recipe you gave me. But it got out of hand a little bit." Sans said ashamed.

"Oh, I see." Muffet laughed. "Next time though, don't crack the eggs so hard."

"Don't worry, Muffet. Next time I..." Sans cut himself off and shot her glance, as he realized what she just said. "Unbelievable! I can't believe he drowns you with him."

Papyrus, who just chuckled quietly, couldn't hold it anymore and started to laugh loudly.

"Don't laugh, Papyrus!"

"Oh, come on. Her jokes are cracking me up."

"Pap, I am serious!"

"Don't worry, dear. I have a dozen of them."

"Don't encourage him!"

The rest of the afternoon was spent with cleaning and friendly chatting. Of course, Papyrus sometimes couldn't help himself but tease Sans with some more jokes. When the kitchen finally looked like a kitchen again, it was almost time for dinner. Both skeletons could feel the rumble in their nonexistent stomach and Muffet insisted that she will stay and prepare them something to eat. Meanwhile, Sans and Papyrus were sat at the table, watching her and waiting for the food to be ready. It smelled really good. What else could be expected from Muffet, the cooking expert? She made them pasta with sweet sauce and Papyrus couldn't miss the chance to add more honey to his plate. Sans scolded Papyrus that he ruined this perfect and delicious dinner and Muffet chuckled happily.

"I can't remember when last we had dinner all together like that," she said. "It feels like an eternity."

Sans smiled at her. "I miss these days too. We should do this more often."

"Sure. We must rectify our draw." Papyrus added with a smirk. Sans playfully kicked him under the table. Papyrus shrugged and continued eating.

When they finished, Sans helped Muffet with the dishes. After everything was done, it was time for her to leave. Sans escorted her to the door. When they said their goodbyes, she turned to walk home through the falling snow.

"Oh, just one more thing." Sans stopped her.

Muffet turned to him. "What is it, Blue?"

"Thank you, mom. For everything."

Muffet felt her soul warm up. She never thought he would call her like that again. "It was my pleasure, dear. I am always here for you if you need anything."

"You should come here more often, it was really fun."

"I would love that," she said with a wave of her hand as she walked away. Sans waved back and closed the door.

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