#I think the dark tunnel and no way to contact each other besides the phone which Ryan didnt want to use bc it would interfere with the

[tasty-littl-snack]

Anyway, someone needs to write some angst fics about that episode. Being alone with no walkie during their solo and not being able to hear anyone if things go bad. Yeah.

Part of me was thinking Ryan was way more worried about Shane than Shane was worried about Ryan, but that man doesn’t show emotion well and then he went and hugged the man. Like they were both worried about the other and it’s just so.. someone sedate me.

Nah I will not sedate you I think it was like that. Ryan was impatient and looking for him when he realized he can't hear him, and Shane did worry about him as you said but couldn't really express it other than going in for a hug once Ryan was ready talking about the technicalities of the solo.

Also Ryan running back? That's a "I want to get out of this place" as fast as possible, I think they were worried about each other equally just have different ways to show it. (Ryan saying it, Shane by first turning it into a joke but then at the end hugging him. I noticed he often goes for real physical affection like reaching out to hold Ryan's hand or this hug in this ep)

I think it would make for great angst fics, if nobody else gets to it I might rewatch the ep and write something short in the coming weeks.

[oneoftheprettynerds]

Worth The Eternity: Dark! Bucky x Reader (Vampire AU + Mob AU + Soulmate AU)

This is for @cherienymphe’s 5K Twilight Renaissance Writing Challenge. Congratulations, keep slaying! I wrote this instead of studying, so pray for my paper please lmao.

A/N: This tired girl tried. 

WARNINGS: something between dubcon and noncon present. Triggering, darkish themes.

Summary of sorts: Ever seen Hotel Transylvania 1/2/3? In this AU, mythical creatures exist and have soulmates and you feel a zing if you are blessed enough to encounter them.

"Boss, we narrowed it down to these core three suspects.” A husky voice, slightly muffled by the sack on your head, entered your ears and you had a hard time being calm.

You had been picked up from your office, specifically the basement of Oscorp Industries while entering your sleek silver car. A pinch in your neck and everything comically blurred. Next thing you know, you are waking up with your entire body sore, your muscles and joints screaming and begging for freedom from tight restraints. Your vision is black, as if you are staring into an abyss and your vision is filled with white and red dancing spots forming patterns, maybe from the hours of inactivity.

Muffled noises of protest and scraping of metal against the concrete floor entered your ears and you realized you are not the only one here held captive. You racked your mind for possible explanations but couldn’t come up with one.

You lived a very simple life, even as the vice president of Oscorp industries. No messing around, no rivalries with other employees, no butting heads with the seniors on the Director’s board. Was this a ploy against the company? Or a domination statement against the weaker species, the humans?

Lucky enough for you, you realized you would soon find out as the sound of a shutter opening and metal clanking noisily filled your ears.

“Took you long enough, Scott. Fill me in.” Another brooding voice reprimanded jokingly and a million goosebumps traveled the path of your skin as you involuntarily shuddered.

“Yes Boss. We tracked the missing sum to the account of this man on the left. He has fourteen other accounts under different names and nationalities, pretty hard to trace but not impossible luckily. This proved he is shady so he’s most definitely involved.”

“This ginger on the right, he made the suspicious call with weird words so we believe he pretty much passed the verdict, calling the shots with the codewords. He has had several surgeries, his face is fucking silicon at this point but his DNA showed us his true identity, Mr. Rumlow here is the Consigliere of The Midnight Moon.”

You sat and listened, piecing together whatever you understood. The pack/mob name more than rung a bell, it scared you shitless. You were quick to catch on, realising that you were caught in an inter species scruffle.

“This shit just got interesting folks. Alright, where does Miss Sexy Legs fit in all this?”

The pencil skirt you wore wasn’t the most modest piece of clothing to exist and the spaghetti straps blouse was a bad choice considering the sheer coldness in this warehouse, the temperature only seemed to go down with the entry of your kidnappers but it’s not like you knew this was going to happen.

You could only assume with your legs on display that you were the one being sexualised and talked about.

“We are not sure about her though, that’s why I said suspects. We have proof the call was made from her phone but the videos show her lending it to a creepy stranger at a café. It might be really good acting but it’s highly unlikely. We brought her in because in the transfer of the stolen cash, her account was an intermediary but it’s a good chance that she was tricked when her phone was borrowed by Mr. Rumlow. Also, she’s a human, you see?”

If it was you being talked about, you felt a jot of relief, just a smudge because at least they were aware you weren’t involved in whatever game they were playing. That didn’t necessarily ensure your freedom, but hey, you were willing to take anything at that point.

“That’s the sweet fucking scent I keep on smelling!” The leader exclaimed as if he made a great discovery, a cure for a pandemic or cancer you’d think. His gruff voice almost had a light, cheery undertone to it, too unlike of a man who was wronged and cheated and was close to murdering someone no doubt. These mobsters are always maniacs like The Joker.

“It sucks that you brought her here. She might not be guilty, but now she knows too much. She’d make a good blood bag though. Maybe I’ll just have a taste, who knows?” The ‘boss’ made a disturbing slurping noise and your heart stopped at his words, a tear almost escaping your eye.

Discussion about drinking blood? You were most definitely in The Vamps territory, your assumption about the inter-species conflict true. You had no doubt you were the weakest in this creepy space, the frailest here, most probably the only human.

“Show me the bastards’ faces.” Like the flip of a switch, the joking man swapped his personality and all but growled. You heard the ripping of cloth and a man gagging, his shrieks muffled. Another flurry of movements and another man retching on the fabric could be heard.

“Well, hello Mr. Rumlow. I must say, brown suited you better.” A horde of chuckles made you widen your eyes, even though only black still filled your vision, as you realised there were at least a dozen twisted, sick men in the room. The fact that they were silent as fuck till now only showed you how disciplined and regimented these soldiers were.

“This one has a pretty face, boss.” You felt the sack ripped off you, and your eyes closed with the sudden flooding of the lights. Your eyes sealed due to hours of inactivity and you kept them shut, afraid to face your tormenter.

A cold hand cupped your cheek and straightened your face that was trying to hide itself in your silky locks by curling in your own neck, the cool metal of rings and insanely icy fingers chilling you literally.

“Open your eyes sweetheart.” A voice called out behind you and you gathered enough courage to face your impending doom, the air as silent as the calm before a storm.

Your orbs opened and gazed into piercing sapphire blue eyes and everything behind this chiseled face blurred. You could swear a ring of pink and red passed over his eyes and you shuddered again, getting overwhelmed due to the eye contact yourself. This wasn’t the usual anxiety you felt while meeting new people, it was somehow both a pull and a push. An inviting comforting pull and a terrifying, ‘stay cautious' push.

You, a self-sufficient woman, who had been independent for as long as you could remember, suddenly felt half; incomplete in a way that you couldn’t fathom. You felt an attraction, a tug towards the man in front of you, and the absurdity of the thoughts and emotions that popped in your brain made you heave on the gag.

Your intellect couldn’t find a reason, your view on love and romance until now completely conflicted. You believed soulmates to be separate pieces of art that complemented each other when together; then what was this broken jigsaw puzzle sentiment you were having now?

Your wide eyes somehow managed to break free of his stare, panicking and looking around to observe, which wasn’t comforting in the least as men with guns and gadgets filled your vision. You were relatively unharmed in comparison to the beaten lads beside you, one with a bruised face and the other with a bloody one.

The handsome man, the Boss’s stare didn’t leave you through the entirety of your searching around, you were sure they saw you as a scared little rabbit, waiting out its inevitable death.

“Lost in her eyes, Boss?” The sideman cracked what he believed to be the funniest joke in existence, earning laughs of the horde of the soldiers around.

 Your eyes went to the Boss’s face, surprisingly when his left your face to glare a nasty stare on his trusted man. His muscular form raised the forelimb, his hand signaling to stop, that effectively quietened the room to a pin drop silence.

With gentle fingers, the man took off your gag and yours lips quivered, throat too dry to make a noise though. You greedily gulped the air through your mouth for whatever reason, maybe just to move your jaw after hours of inactivity.

Maintaining eye contact was challenging, arduous to say the least. It seemed as if he could read you, find everything about you there is to find by studying the flecks in your orbs. His delicate hands, loosened the ties and you were now more so confused, along with the trepidation.

Just what the fuck was going on?

Bucky had almost lost hope, centuries on this planet and no one to love and cherish, no personal confidante, no soulmate. But good things take time, right? And in his opinion, best things take an eternity. He knows this now.

Expect the unexpected was the truest phrase, idiom whatever it was, in this moment. He had spent countless nights wondering about his soulmate, was she pretty? Ugly? Was she even a she or not? Dumb or witty? He made a lot of scenarios of how they’d meet, the kids, reigning together. He entertained the idea of her being from a different species, a nymph, an orc, maybe a werewolf?

And now that he found her, it was a revelation, a surprise honestly. After all optimism got evaporated, after traveling the dark tunnel for centuries literally, there she was, his beacon of light. Finding her was a wonder, and her being a human was astonishing, a possibility he somehow failed to consider, but he was over the moon cause there she was, right in front of him now. A beautiful, stunning lady in flesh and blood, human flesh and blood, with the prettiest eyes he had ever seen. His zing.

He always liked humans, apart from the similar appearances the vampires shared with them, they were always docile and accommodating. In the last few millenniums, after the mythical creatures showed themselves to the world, the humans understood their place and tier pretty early.

They were smart to surrender and be peaceful as all the species came to light, clever to know that even with less numbers they could be overpowered and bloodshed was detrimental to all involved.

He knew he would convert you soon though, your lifespan far too short for his liking, and obviously, now that he found you, you were to rule together. For Centuries.

His happiness was over taken by the realisation that you were not in the most hospitable settings, you were tied and strapped, being preyed on by his men. He made quick work of the restraints, allowing you to breathe by loosening them first. Your scared, trembling form plucked his unbeating heart’s strings, but strangely enough, his brain found amusement and he felt smug. Seeing you tied up and trembling was definitely a turn on for him, noted.

After commanding his foolish men to stop giggling, he leaned closer to you, your aura comforting and intoxicating as he smelled your hair. A divine scent, an addictive one for sure. The goosebumps on your skin confirmed the reciprocation of his connection.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you.” His husky voice, calming but imposing resonated in your ears, his hand tapping your cheek on the other side. Even though the private statement was whispered for you, the deafening silence made every person witness it.

He leaned back, his hands behind his back as he grinned, tone again light like earlier and commanded, “Get her out of here and cleaned up, tell Nat and Wanda, they’ll know what I mean. Then we’ll deal with these guys here, after the lady leaves of course. No scratch on her from this point forward or you’ll lose a limb. Proceed.”  

All three of you, the hostages were going to get ‘taken care of’ but in different ways.

It had been over twenty hours for sure, you were abducted in the early hours of the morning and now the moon was out again, like one endless night. You remember being escorted to a sleek black car; your limbs ached but you managed to keep up. You tried to keep up with the car’s turns, trying to memorize the streets but your head was pounding and eyes were blurry.

You remembered being led to a suite in an expensive hotel like ones where your conferences were held, being taken to room and given towels to clean up. You didn’t change the dress when given another, the attire being a summer dress even shorter.  A woman came a while later named Wanda who checked the forming light contusions and scuffed skin with hands so delicate, as if you were precious cargo. You were, you just didn’t know.

You didn’t eat anything they provided and after hours of conspiring and overthinking, you heard sturdy footsteps. Since your arrival, only women bothered with you, probably the ones the leader sent. But these were heavier, harder.

The door opened and you glanced up to find the leader who demanded your locking up in this fancy place, his eyes travelling on your form sat up on bed, as you mindfully pulled your skirt down. You were anxious the entire day, dreading your future but nothing was like the restlessness that ran through you in this person’s presence.

Maybe it was the fact he was a vampire, or the leader of a Mob or maybe both, but whatever it was he intimidated you, alarmed you, even though you’ve had only two encounters including the present one. You were smart to be scared, he looked at you like, like you were something to eat, your mind told you.

“Hey.” His raspy voice caught you off guard, not having heard a single syllable out of the women the entire day, your questions being ignored the entire time.

You stared at him warily. Your mind having a myriad of emotions and thoughts. You didn’t want to trigger him, besides the place being armed well, he was a vampire, a beefy one at that and you would be stupid to try anything. Shouting and making a scene was no good either, your best option being the lamest one: to talk it out. You refused to become a willing blood bag.

You let out a long sigh, surprising him somehow, “Look, I have money, resources in the business sphere, information, what do you want? I know I got caught in this by accident, but I’m willing to do a lot of things to get out. Name it and I’ll do my best.” You said with your ‘business deal’ voice, the wise, guiding leader voice from your office.

For some reason though, the man found it hilarious. He slapped his hand on his chest, his boisterous laugh echoing. It wasn’t that good a joke if he believed it to be one. Men, ever so condescending.

“Humans, ever so gluttonous. I don’t want your money, precious.” His term of endearment didn’t fall short to your ears, but you had larger things in play here than a sweet nothing.  

“I have other things to offer, name it.” Within your moral sphere, of course.

“You still don’t get it, do you? And you humans boast you have everything figured about us.”

He neared you and you leaned to the inner area of the bed, refusing to get cornered to the wall if things escalate and wanting to have the option of running away, probably in vain though. With each step he took, a new shudder ran through you because of the closing distance between your bodies, it getting triggered in unexplainable ways.

You didn’t need to say words to prompt him to explain, your scrunched eyebrows already doing that mission. “You should feel it too, you know? The goosebumps, the bewilderment in your insides, you’re intoxicated by my very presence too, aren’t you?”

The more he neared, your breaths quickened visibly, his words becoming truer. Your skin heating, mind losing a bit of consciousness. His presence didn’t affect you to this extent in the warehouse, but now? You were putty, almost incapable to think. You tried to roll over to the other side but your plan failed because he caged you with his bulky hands on your shoulder, body diagonal across yours. With how slow and out of it you were, he didn’t even need his heightened speed to trap you.

“Oh, it’s kicking in, isn’t it? The realization, the surge of love and lust? To be held and cherished and be full of me?” He smirked at your trembling form, your chest heaving and weak arms trying to push him off.

“I’ve read humans feel flushed, hot, so let’s get you out of these scraps, yes?” He slid off the thin straps while you mumbled a very unconvincing ‘stop’. Both actions were pretty pointless because he wouldn’t stop, you both knew that and also, he ended up taking the top off over your torso the normal way.

Your hands barely managed to land themselves on his wrist to pull them off, but the foolish limbs ravished in the feel of his cold skin instead. It was like a high you had never experienced and your body wanted more. It was already addicted to the feel of this stranger whose name you didn’t even know.

He unzipped the skirt, your pathetic body no longer even fighting him as he rambled on. “Among us vampires, well not much to tell but we’re all freezing cold when we find our ‘zing’. Like every normal day. Except for the inability to think and the need for their mate’s blood, of course.”

He came back up to kiss you, his body now in line with yours as one hand held your cheek and the other groped your breast. You had an out of body experience, feeling disgusted for reciprocating the kiss but also wanting more of that, more of him.

He trailed down your neck to your collarbone and you gasped for air, your thoughts incoherent. He kissed between the valley of your breasts, removing the bra sometime in between as you heaved. He wanted nothing more than to rest in those swells for an eternity.

As soon as cold air hit your nipples, one was being sucked while other was being pinched. The nameless stranger alternated between licking like a kitten and sucking like a baby on the breasts. Your rational part felt gross but the dominating side was the one experiencing delight.

He kissed down the sternum, to your bellybutton and then hovered above the thin, flimsy underwear. His hands slid down your sides, down the curve of your waist and hooked themselves at the cloth’s side, pulling them down in a swift motion.

Your legs quaked, trying to close themselves but one muscular arm on your thigh was able to hold them off, throw one away from the other. He leaned down and you were pathetically still under his muscles, your lower limbs either not daring to move or not wanting to.

You wrapped your hands around your torso to hide a bit of yourself, but did that really matter in the larger picture of the events unfolding right now?

You closed your eyes, tears already escaping since minutes ago as you tried to accept the reality of what was happening. A cold sensation on your little button caught you off guard; an infinitesimal fraction of time later, an inhale reached your ears.

You looked down, opening your eyes to find the man smelling you, his Grecian nose poking through your folds and taking in sniffs of your intimate part.

“Please sto-”      

“The scent at its source, so fucking divine. I want a taste.” With that, your sentence got interrupted by his words and then by his action as his tongue licked away. It sucked on the bead, delving in the cavity there pretty fucking deep and he slurped away like he pretended to do when you were blindfolded.

Your back arched like a gymnast, hands that were folded across your chest clawing at your own skin, leaving marks behind. His hands were hooked around your thighs and they threw your legs on his shoulder some point in between. When he thrusted three fingers at once, an audible wheeze left your lips, your noiseless gasps now hoarse ‘Aah’s and you could feel him smirk.

There a also a lot of teeth involved with his razor sharp canines that appeared out of nowhere during this and when he thrusted his fingers particularly hard with his teeth nibbling on your sensitive bud, you shamelessly let go of the inside flow.

It felt humiliating and mortifying, your body glowing with the aftereffects of descending into bliss while your mind wanted to cry. Your soul was surprisingly content with what unfolded, at peace. You hated the diversity of emotions you felt, revolted to find even a bit of positive sentiment at your assaulter’s actions.

While your inner monologue happened, the man got up and out of his clothes painfully quick. You tried to sit your up, feebly trying to escape but ineffectively so. Your eyes couldn’t meet the handsome stranger’s nor did you want to see him naked and removed him form your eyeline, making you get caught off guard when his hands wrapped around your ankles and pulled you down, finishing the small distance you managed to crawl up.

His hands left their place as he kissed his way back up your flushed skin, from the swell of your ankle to the swell of your stomach. He licked away the drops of blood around the crescent scratches left by your nails under the intense ecstasy he forced upon you. Then he continued his journey from the swells of your chest to the swell of your cheek, taking you in a fiery, needy yet affectionate kiss.

Your surroundings blurred a second into the kiss, mouth and skin hungry for his touch alike. A thrust had you painfully gasp as you were stretched unlike ever before, impaled to a depth unlike ever before. He kissed away your tears that continued to spill on command of your ashamed mind and leaned back to look into your eyes, a pretty pink passing over them for a fleeting second.

His blue orbs bore into yours and you almost believed he loved you by the intensity of his gaze. At this moment in time, nothing but you two mattered, connected and finally together. How you got here didn’t matter, how unwilling you were didn’t matter. This felt right, felt necessary and was worthy of everything you went through. The rational part seemed to die the instant you two physically connected and somehow, everything and nothing made sense.

But you felt complete.

Your lips captured his of their own accord, and you both smiled into the caress of your lips while he began thrusting, one hand on your waist, the other supporting his weight. Out of breath, he leaned back, still thrusting though, and gazed at you. “Scott back there, he called you pretty, that’s practically an insult. The way you look right now, you’re much more than beautiful. You’re ethereal, my Zing, the loveliest in existence.”

His genuine words tugged at your heart. For some reason you believed him, had confidence in his feelings. Your foreheads connected as he quickened, his hand caressing your skin, the cool against your warm skin soothing. It didn’t take long for you to let go again this time; your previous resolution already dissolved. He neared your ears and whispered, “I want you to scream my name. It’s Bucky.” You nodded absentmindedly, chasing the high.

One particular thrust paired with his canines piercing your skin made you cry out “Bucky!” and you felt him smirking in your neck, lapping the blood. You wilted in bliss and your eyes closed, warmth filling you minutes after. Your eyes were dazed and you felt ‘Bucky’ shift, removing his towering frame from you, a goofy smile on the chiseled face.

With mind free of the aforementioned disapproving thoughts, you checked out his handsome face. It was like you saw him in an entirely different light now.

He gave you a quick peck, his hands cradling your face and he spoke with the utmost sincerity. “You are worth the wait, precious. No measure of time with you will be long enough. But we’ll start with forever to compensate. I’m never letting you go.”

[stygianflood]

Hideaway (Ethan x F!MC)

Summary: As promised, a very canon-divergent version of Ethan’s... dark mood. 3.8; Ethan’s PoV

Words, rating, genre, trope- 1.5k, General, Fluff (but the tone is angsty); hurt/comfort

A/N- It bothered me that Ethan’s demand for consolation was an either-this-or-nothing sort of scenario, when we know the real Ethan Ramsey would never! In this universe Ethan just leaves refusing MC’s offer to help. Much like Book 1 ❤ Also, I really tried to make sense of whatever PB is making Harper do. And there might be an Easter egg near the end.

The amber liquid sloshes down his throat, trickling into the more labyrinthine crevices of his mind, sharp and biting. Somewhere in a sky not veiled by the havoc of civilisation, a forlorn sun pours itself in a steady drip. 

For each of the last fifteen minutes, his finger has been teetering on the brink of a call he knows he’ll make.

I don’t need you to follow me, Aparna. I knew there could be consequences. 

I made my bed... The least I can do is lie in it.

She stood before him, under the lurid new lights of the revamped atrium. Face contorted in worry, and something else he is no longer a stranger to.

That doesn’t mean you have to weather them alone. 

I care about you. Talk to me.

And she looked no older than she did in her first year. 

In those days the atrium housed the trees planted in his intern year, and some even older. And Aparna had implored him to stay. Because the patients needed him. Because she needed him. 

Ethan was not brave enough to admit he needed her more than she would ever need him. That part of them remains pitifully unaltered.

This time however, it’s different from letting her in. It’s about beating the devil at his own game. Wrestling his slippery self on a rock face. 

He wonders what it’s like on the other side of the tunnel. The darker side that the likes of Bloom inhabit. The one that doesn’t have its throat slit by the glare of street lights. More importantly, how do the likes of Dr. Ramsey beat him at his own game and remain unscathed.

He’s being reckless. Dangerously so. But whatever else he might tell himself, he is lonely too.

Cloistered in an apartment that never felt emptier, he can almost hear her terrible joke on fingers of scotch. When did the notoriously single Ethan Ramsey become this dependent he wonders.

After four arduously long rings, he almost disconnects the call.

‘Ethan?’

‘Hey.’

The silence stretches into a long and restless twilight across his windows, and he thinks he ought to ask about her day. She beats him to it.

‘Do you want me to come over?’ 

‘That… That would be nice.’

She definitely rolls her eyes on the other side of the line. 

***

‘Do you ever wish you’d settled for someone… less complicated?’ He avoids her eyes fixing his own on the ceiling. 

The fingers massaging his forehead stall for the briefest quarter of a second before resuming. The slight shift finds his head even more snugly settled in her lap.

He feels stifled by an all-consuming sense of helplessness. And it’s different from the trickiest diagnoses when he knows he’s giving his all and failing. It is a plethora of all that is wrong with the system. The one he has been pitted against all his life, and mostly managed to thwart.

Ethan Ramsey never settles for half-measures. Not when he can help it. And with Bloom, he cannot. 

Not unless he tips the scales in his favour. And it has taken the last morsel of his sanity to plot it.

No loose ends. Or second footprints for that matter. One more ethics hearing and her career would end before it began, and Naveen himself could do nothing about it.

Yet here he is. The irony of it biting, as the one person he needs to protect by all means is the one being implicated. If Harper, one of the most level-headed people he knows-

‘Besides the fact that I’m nowhere close to being settled?’ Aparna interrupts his thoughts from somewhere above him. 

Oh.

‘Sorry, I didn't mean-’ 

Of course she is grinning. Annoyingly smug and utterly distracting. 

He could kiss her senseless and wipe the smirk off those lips. Make her moan right here on the couch. 

He almost does.

‘Did you wish you weren’t involved with someone whose medical license was about to be revoked?’ She asks.

Her fingers rove about his temple, right where he has recently seen specks of silver. And he awaits a joke about his age that never comes.

‘Ethan…’

God, he hopes he doesn’t look that miserable.  

‘I need you to know I’d go anywhere with you. And I mean that-’ She holds his chin to turn his face. ‘I mean that in every sense of the word. Thought you’d know by now.’

She looks strangely composed. 

It could be the immensity of her proclamation. Or the ease with which it has rolled off her tongue. But it alarms him. Not because he isn’t ready, because make no mistake he is. It alarms him because she is doing it again. 

In that moment all of his life could flicker past him like the tedious crackle of an old television set, and he’d still be enraptured by the unwavering intent in her eyes.  

And she looks no older than she did in her first year. 

He raises a hand grazing the softness of her neck. Her cheek. And the corner of her parted lips. 

Come here is all he manages before drawing her face to his own.

He only vaguely remembers the drive back home when he wanted to be in control of his life. He has never felt more disarmed. Or more- he discerns the lump in his throat- in love.

Beads of crimson settle on the horizon, and in the abandoned dregs of his whisky. The natural order of things calls for day and night. Much in the same way it summons droughts and downpour.

And as for him, he’d come undone for her again and again.

***

The stillness of the air is riddled by his own ragged breaths mingling with hers. And the deluge in his mind almost subsides. 

‘Glad that I stayed?’ She props herself on her elbows and lazily smiles down at him.

‘Always.’

She peppers the column of his neck with a final drizzle of kisses before burying one languid hand in his hair and settling against him. Just as the silence is splintered by the buzz on his coffee table.

Thankfully it’s not her pager. Just her phone. And her fingers resume their stroking of his hair.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Pleasantly spent.’ It’s his first genuine smile in hours. ‘But really, several things at once.

‘And I’ll talk to Harper as soon as I can.’

‘I appreciate that, but… I think we need to talk to each other,’ She says. ‘For the team, but also for ourselves. 

‘I need to be able to forgive her. Not today perhaps. But I need to do it.’

He agrees. But he is baffled that Harper should accuse her now. Especially when she was willing to wait for evidence when Aparna had actually breached ethics as an intern.

Is it his tactlessness he wonders, as she loops his arm around herself. Speaking over her inputs, denying the credibility she has earned in the team by sheer hard work. 

Creating the impression that she’s still just an intern with history.

As her breath cools the sheen of sweat on his chest, he instinctively gathers her even closer. And not for the first time that evening, he feels he doesn’t deserve her.

Damage control, the interminable mutterings in his mind suggest. He needs to ensure Harper has not spoken to anyone outside the team. And Tobias has not prattled. Perhaps give Naveen a heads up.

‘Check that,’ He remarks as her phone buzzes again. ‘It could be work.’ 

But just as he is about to disentangle himself to make the calls, he sees them.

Just wanted to check on you. 

Hope you’re not beeting yourself up over it.

Not a saved contact on her phone he realises. But it’s familiar. A little too familiar. He decides against asking.

She shakes her head with a faint half-smile before replacing the phone and curling up to him. She loops an arm about his chest as he strokes rehearsed patterns on her back. 

It’s minutes before they startle the peace.

‘Thank you for being here tonight, Apu,’ He almost whispers. ‘For helping me work through this.'

‘I meant what I said, Ethan,’ She says. ‘I’ll always be there for you. 

‘Even when I don’t agree with you.’

And it’s there again. That frightfully alarming calm on her face every time she promises to leap.

When he takes her bottom lip between his teeth, it’s with the ardour of a disciple who did not just invoke her minutes ago, or this morning, or into the wee hours of the night before. 

‘And I hope,’ He manages breathlessly. ‘I hope I never take that... Take you for granted.’

She doesn’t respond. Except for the immutable glimmer in her eyes. And he knows.

He decides he will call Naveen and Harper once she’s asleep. He’ll not unsettle her. Not when it might never happen. 

‘What happens when we go back out there?’

If he only knew.

‘Let’s get you to bed.’ He smiles, lacing his fingers with hers.

His life has long stopped being the neatly stacked manila folders he’d once sorted it into. For all he knows, it could be dipped and bent in all directions tomorrow. 

But he also knows she will be right there on the promontory with him.

Thank you all for reading this!  A special shout-out to @starrystarrytrouble​ because I had the inspiration to write after ages solely because of our chat ❤

Let me know if you’d want to be added or removed.

[undercoveravenger]

Glass Ceilings

Pairing: Actor!Hamish Duke x Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Original Request: “Hi for the fairy tale au could you do a Cinderella kinda story where he has a bad family but then against their wishes he goes to a party and meets the famous actor and singer hamish duke and they fall for each other”

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

Hamish Duke hated parties.

Well, that wasn’t really true; he didn’t hate all parties, just the galas his mother threw to raise money for one charity or another. Hamish really didn’t mind that the parties benefitted charities, but he didn’t like the way that the wealthy people who attended them used them as an excuse to show off just how much better than everyone else they thought they were.

He would avoid them if he could, but with his newly-found fame brought on by a lucky break in the entertainment industry, his mother had started dragging him along to all of her over-the-top events since she thought that her son’s fame would drive up attendance.

Of course, she had been right about that, but that also meant that Hamish spent the duration of each of the grand balls hosted in his family’s manor being mobbed by people that were far too old and had been married far too long for him to feel comfortable dancing with them.

It was one such night and Hamish had only narrowly escaped the clutches of Mrs. Smith, a wizened old woman with beady green eyes who always dug her overly-manicured nails into his shoulder when he danced with her the way an alley cat might sink its claws into a mouse, when he ran directly into one of the servers. The waiter’s tray tipped at the sudden impact, spilling champagne over them both.

(E/c) eyes widened almost comically behind the uniform black mask that all of the staff were wearing as he realized what he’d done. “I’m so sorry,” the waiter exclaimed, seeming torn between trying to wipe the champagne away with the decorative towel slung over his arm and being too nervous about ruining Hamish’s suit further to try. “Are you alright?”

Hamish chuckled, the first genuine laugh that had escaped him all night. He was nearly as surprised by the sound as the (h/c) that had accidentally assaulted him. “I’m fine. I’m tougher than I look,” he teased.

“Well,” The (h/c) started, “That’s good to hea-”

He was interrupted by the sound of an older woman shrieking, calling out loudly for someone to help her in the kitchen.

The server winced, panic flooding his otherwise beautiful (e/c) eyes, and Hamish felt the sudden urge to intervene. He peered over the crowd in an effort to track down the disgruntled woman before he reached out, taking the stranger’s wrist in his hand and gently tugging him along behind him until they’d made it out of the ballroom.

“Where are we going?” Hamish’s new companion asked, clearly confused. “I should really be getting back to work before my manager has a conniption.”

“Your manager, huh? Was that the lady that was yelling for you?” Hamish asked, curious what could possibly make someone work for someone who seemed so mean. “Why do you put up with her?”

The stranger nodded slowly, like he was afraid he’d give too much away. “I don’t really have a choice.”

“Really? Surely there’s better options out there,” Hamish protested, thinking back to the way the woman’s face had flushed red as she bellowed at her employees before the event had started.

He shrugged, tugging awkwardly at the sleeves of his jacket as he tried to focus on anything but the conversation. “She’s also my mother.”

Hamish stopped in his tracks, stunned. He turned to look at the former server with wide eyes, “Your mother…? How is someone as nice as you related to someone like that?!”

His companion huffed a light laugh and Hamish felt pleased that he’d been able to brighten his mood, “Well, technically she’s my step-mother, but she’s all I’ve got left and I can’t really pay for college without a job so…” He shrugged again, brows furrowing as a thought hit him, “Hey, you never said where we’re going?”

The blond grinned, tugging a fraying tapestry out of the way to reveal a hidden hallway. “Do you trust me?”

“I don’t even know your name,” he retorted, crossing his arms over his chest protectively.

“Well, that’s easy enough to fix,” Hamish grinned. “My name’s Hamish Duke. What’s yours?”

“(M/N),” he answered reflexively, eyes widening as he recognized the name. “Wait, Hamish Duke? Like the actor? Like the son of the lady hosting the party?”

Hamish laughed, nodding. “Yes, just like that.”

“I’m dead.” (M/N) said resolutely. “I’m dead because my mom’s going to kill me when she realizes that I spilled champagne all over one of the most famous people in the state.”

The blond rolled his eyes, cocking his head toward the tunnel again, “You coming with me or are you on your way to the graveyard?”

“Very funny,” he started, cutting himself off as his step-mother’s voice echoed down the hallway. “I’m right behind you.” Hamish grinned, taking (M/N)’s hand in his and tugging him along the hidden path behind him.

--------

Moments passed in almost complete darkness and companionable silence as Hamish led you through the twists and turns of the hidden tunnel, until finally the two of you emerged out into a dimly lit room with the furniture pushed back and out of the way, leaving the center of the room bare.

“What is this place?” You asked quietly as Hamish released your hand and made his way to the center of the room.

He hummed his acknowledgement softly as he started to unbutton his suit jacket, tossing the wet garment aside and sprawling out on his back to look up at the ceiling. “Come join me?” he asked quietly.

You followed his gaze upward, breath catching in your throat as you realized what this room was meant to be. Instead of finding an ordinary ceiling the way any other room might have, the ceiling here towered above you in an arching dome made out of crystal clear glass, allowing the two of you a flawless view of the stars.

“Wow,” you breathed, edging forward to lay down beside him. “This is incredible.” “Yeah.” Hamish agreed, “Breathtaking.” You couldn’t bring yourself to check, but the weight of his gaze had you suspecting that he wasn’t talking about the stars. He remained quiet for a long moment before letting out a quiet sigh and beginning to speak, “I used to come here a lot when I was a kid. When my problems always felt so big and it seemed like that was all there was, I’d sneak up here and look up at the sky and it would remind me that there’s more to life than the moments you feel trapped.”

You hummed softly as you pondered his words. “It’s hard to imagine that someone like you could ever feel trapped,” you mused.

Hamish laughed, tipping his head toward you so he could look at you, “I wasn’t always an actor. I am a law-school dropout, y’know?”

Your brows furrowed incredulously as you turned to meet his eyes, “Really?”

Hamish nodded solemnly, ocean blue eyes glimmering in amusement, “Oh, definitely. I spent a lot of time up here after my father found out about that decision.”

You hesitated as you realized just how personal this observatory was to him, eventually forcing yourself to ask the question that had been weighing on you, “Why did you bring me here?”

“I’m not sure,” he said after a moment of thought. “Does it sound crazy if I say that it felt like I was meant to know you?”

You shook your head, turning back to face the glimmering stars. “No. I think things are meant to happen for a reason.” You huffed when your phone chimed in your pocket, wincing when you noticed your step-mom’s name as the contact before reading the text. “I have to go; the party’s ended and the staff has to leave. I’ll be lucky if I’m not fired when I get home.”

“Everything happens for a reason, huh?” Hamish murmured under his breath, eyes fixing on you determinedly as you pushed yourself back to your feet. “Hey, you said you only work for her to pay for college, right? What if I offered you a better job?”

Your brows furrowed as you turned back to look at Hamish, “What are you talking about?”

“Your stepmother? You only let her treat you like that because you need the money?” Hamish prompted, getting to his feet and moving to stand before you, “What if I make you a better offer?”

You smile but shake your head, getting ready to refute his questions.

Hamish pressed on, interrupting your line of thought, “I’ll give you ten thousand dollars if you agree to go on a date with me.”

Your heart stopped in your chest as you struggled to comprehend what Hamish had just told you, “Hamish, no. I can’t accept that-”

“Please,” he said, taking your hand gently in his. “You deserve so much better; give me a chance to give you that.”

As the clock began to chime midnight and the stars glimmered merrily through the shining glass ceiling, you leaned forward to kiss Hamish, resolving to yourself that, even though you weren’t going to take the money from him, this would not be the last time you saw him.

[uas-fics]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Read on AO3

Title: How to Train A Champion and Keep Your Reputation Intact

Summary: Piers doesn’t want to coach Leon, but the last thing Piers needs is for everyone to know a cool punk like him used to perform in Pokemon Contests! If it means keeping his reputation intact, he’ll begrudgingly teach this ray of sunlight what he knows.

Fandom: Pokemon Sword and Shield

Ships: LeonxPiers | dnnz

Rating: T

Contest Warnings: N/A

Chapter 1: The Early Morning Visitor

----

Of the people Piers expected to be sitting across his kitchen table at eight in the morning, the former champion was not one of them. Leon wasn't even in the top ten, yet here he was, twiddling his thumbs behind a cup of tea with a peppy expression on his face.

Piers was barely a human being this early, yet Leon seemed to have the same energy as a particularly bushy-tailed skwovet.

"You have a nice kitchen," Leon commented, more to fill the silence than an actual compliment.

Piers glanced at the pile of take-out containers on the counter then the singular shoe that hadn't made it to his room with its partner the night before. His kitchen was nothing spectacular, and it didn't need to be. His home was a place to crash or bring a date, not some fancy townhouse. With only he and Marnie there, why should he bother fancying the place up?

"What do you want, Leon?" Piers took a sip of his tea.

Leon wrapped his fingers around his cup but didn't move to drink. If Leon would have preferred coffee, he could have said something before Piers poured him a cup. It'd be a waste to pour it down the drain.

"Well, it's a little silly, but I could use your help with something," Leon explained.

Piers narrowed his eyes.

Leon was the chairman of the Pokemon League. Piers gave his gym over to Marnie after the last Champion tournament. What could he want Piers to help with at this point? The only connection he had with the League was Marnie.

Unless...

"I swear if you're goin' to pull the same shit as Rose did and try to get me to make Marnie move the gym—"

"No, no, nothing like that!" Leon raised his hands, palms facing out. "It has nothing at all to do with Spikemuth or the gym."

"Then what does it have to do with?" Piers leaned back and crossed his arms.

"Uh, well, alright," Leon didn't meet his eyes, "it's about a rumor."

Piers' frown deepened. He always had rumors about him floating about. It came with his persona.

"I heard Piers beat a man to a pulp because he spilled his drink on him." or "I heard Piers took three girls back to his home and made them leave before the sun was even up." or he was a dealer of rare hallucinogenic flowers or that he used his pokemon to break into Rose's office and peed in a potted plant behind his desk.

There was rarely any truth to the rumors. He didn't care to squash them. He was a dark-type trainer, having everyone thinking he was a bigger badass than he already was could not hurt his reputation.

"C'mon, mate, aren't you a little old to be listenin' to rumors?" Piers cocked an eyebrow.

"It's not a bad rumor.”

"What's the rumor then?"

"Ah, well, I heard," He paused to clear his throat, "that you, ah, that you competed in pokemon contests when you were younger—and that you won."

Piers barely kept his face deadpan.

Where had Leon heard that? Those contests happened just before posting on the internet boomed, so it wasn't like the contests were live-streamed and archived. The only video that he knew existed of his contest days hid in a box in the back of a closet. Marnie captured it when she could barely see over the railings at the stadiums. Even then, the video quality was terrible and Marnie kept moving the camera around. He looked like a black and white blob in them.

He forced himself to calm down. He could easily deny this rumor. No one would believe he, Piers, former Spikemuth gym leader, head of Team Yell, the fierce trainer of powerful dark-types, would ever compete in a pokemon contest.

"Where did you hear that?" Piers reached for his tea just to have something in his hands.

What credibility did this rumor spreader have? Probably none. Denying this would be easy.

"Oh, I heard your sister mention it."

Piers nearly dropped his cup.

Shit.

He could not deny this, not without putting Marnie's credibility on the line. She was still a new gym leader. The last thing she needed was the chairman thinking she was a gossip.

He hissed out a breath. "Oh, did she?"

"Yeah, she was talking to Opal while Bede filled out some papers," Leon told him. "She said she remembered you used to be good at pokemon contests. That's why I'm here."

"So what?" Piers spat. "It isn't illegal, now is it?"

Why couldn't this have been about Malamar scaring passers-by on Route 7 when he was bored? Why could this have been about the rave Piers helped throw in an abandoned mine last month? Why could it have been about pissing in the potted plant? Why couldn't this have been about anything else?!

Leon frowned. "Of course not—"

"Then why are you askin' me about it?"

"Because I wanted your help to win one."

Piers' mouth gaped. Did he hear that right? Leon, the former champion, one of the strongest pokemon trainers in all of Galar, wanted to enter a pokemon contest.

He stuck a finger in his ear and twisted it.

"Sorry, say that again. I must have somethin' in my ear. I didn't just hear you ask for help in a pokemon contest."

"That is what I asked." Leon beamed. "There is one in Ballonlea in two weeks and I want to enter, but I don't know the first thing about them. If you know, you could help me—if you want to, that is."

"Why?" Piers held back from pinching himself. How was this not a dream? Maybe he was messing with hallucinogenic flowers after all.

Reaching into his pocket, Leon took out a folded piece of lavender paper. He laid it flat on the table, smoothing it with the side of his hand, before pushing it over. The faint scent of roses wafted from it.

"All are invited to the first Bellonlea Pokemon Contest!" It read in a flowing, elegant font. "Coordinators of all ages and skill levels are invited to the Bellonlea Stadium to participate in a Pokemon Contest. Please contact the Bellonlean Ladies' Society for more details and how to enter."

"Was this ‘ppose to explain somethin'?" Piers pushed the flyer back. "Why do you want to win a contest?"

"That prize, of course!" Leon took his phone from his pocket. He scrolled a moment then turned the screen to Piers.

A picture of a red and white hat with a black logo stared back. It honestly looked like something an overly-excited ten-year-old would win from a cereal box drawing.

"It's a hat." Piers peered over the top of the phone to look at the hat Leon already had on.

"It's not just a hat. It's a limited edition!" Leon pulled his phone back. "I had one when I was a little kid, but I lost it to an angry corvisquire. The first place in the beginner contest wins it."

"And you can't just, you know, buy one for yourself?" He rolled his hand. "I know you have sponsorships out your ass." Piers looked down pointedly at his Spikemuth Chamber of Commerce shirt for emphasis.

Leon shrugged. "What fun is that?"

Piers downed half his drink in one go. The burn on his throat reassured him he wasn't dreaming.

"Piers?" Leon leaned over the table, his face alight with a smile. "Can't I talk you into helping me out? Please? I promise to owe you one after this."

Piers groaned. What choice did he have? He couldn't deny it without hurting Marnie's reputation. Their reputation used to be the only valuable he and Marnie had to their names, besides each other. Lying to Leon to save his own skin was not an option.

"Yeah, yeah, alright." Piers raised his hands in defeat. "Fine. I'll do it, but," he held a finger up in Leon's face, "you have to swear on your life that you won't tell a soul about it. I don't need anyone thinkin’ I ever put any of my pokemon in a frilly suit or made them dance around like pretty ballerinas or some shit."

Leon nearly jumped across the table. He put his hands on Piers' shoulders and squeezed a little too hard.

"Thanks a million for this!" He hopped up. "Where should we train? I think I understand the rules, but maybe we should go over the rules first? Or outfit—"

"Tomorrow." Piers cut him off. "We'll start tomorrow."

Leon's face fell like a growlithe that just had his bone taken from him. Piers held his sad gaze. Marnie's morpoko did the same pout when she wanted something, and Piers knew better than to give in.

If Leon still wanted to learn how to be a coordinator, he had to prove himself first. A day would be enough time for Piers to think up obstacles to make Leon forget about the silly notion. Contests, despite the stereotype, were hard work. While beginner contests weren't all that complicated, Piers didn't mind sprinkling in some of the more difficult to grasp bits from the higher tiers. With any luck that would confuse Leon right out of the idea and out of Piers' life.

Leon took a breath. He pulled his hands from Piers and squared his shoulders.

"I'll meet you back here at eight sharp tomorrow and then we can get started."

"No. You'll meet me outside Spikemuth at noon."

"Oh, well, alright. It'll be a champ—" Leon caught himself from using his old catchphrase. "It'll be a fun time."

"That's one way to think of it," Piers muttered, feeling less and less enthused at the arrangement by the second.

----

True to his word, Leon stood outside the front gate of Spikemuth at noon on the dot. He perked up when he saw Piers and jumped in front of him.

"Good afternoon, Teacher Piers."

He winked.

Piers wrinkled his nose.

"Call me that again, and I'm callin' this off."

Leon laughed nervously. "Sorry." He whistled. "Sooooo, what should I learn first? How to use music? Or pose? I'm already pretty good at that."

"How about the rules?"

Piers waved him to follow down the road towards the Spikemuth Tunnel. People were less likely to eavesdrop on them if they walked.

"Alright, rules. I know there are two rounds, and each trainer uses only one pokemon."

"Coordinator," Piers corrected sharply.

He promised to teach, but he didn't promise to be entirely pleasant while doing it.

"Yeah. There are two rounds. The first round is the Performance Stage. You show off your pokemon's appeal with a choreographed set of moves. The judges will assign points based on how well the performance fits into particular categories."

Piers began to ramble on about the different move categories as if the contest in Bellonlea would be so complicated. Beginner contests weren't judged by the five categories individually like higher-ranked contests.

Back when Galar still had a contest circuit, the people in beginner contests were kids with weak pokemon that might only know two or three moves. A performance with a cool move first and a cute move next wouldn't be judged as harshly as the first rank contest would.

However, Leon didn't need to know that. If he thought that the category system was complicated and—in Piers' humble opinion—limited and stupid, maybe he would back out.

"And that's all there is to the appeals rules." Piers looked at Leon, expecting him to be confused and dejected at the long-winded explanation, but instead found him holding onto every word.

"Well, that doesn't seem too hard." He nodded. "It's just putting on a show in a time limit with your partner. Easy."

"We'll see how easy you think it is when you're doing it." Piers stood under a shade tree. "The next round is the harder one. It's the battle round."

"Battle? I thought contests were for show, not for fighting."

Piers cackled at the genuine confusion on Leon's face. Of course, he would think that. That silly stereotype about contests never seemed to die, did it? Coordinators didn't just train their pokemon to teach them new moves. Their partner had to be strong to last the battles against one another. Even though Piers was a gym leader when he did contests, he still struggled against the stronger opponents.

He idly grabbed a lower branch and bent it down. If he didn’t slouch, Piers was tall enough that he could just about reach into the pokemon nest a few branches up with relative ease.

"You would think that, wouldn't you?" He opened his hand.

The branch whipped up and hit the branch the nest was on. The skwovet in the nest jumped with a squeak. Its sudden movement knocked a sitrus berry over the side.

"In the second round, two coordinators battle to remove points from the opponent, usin' moves that fall into the contest categories." He snatched the sitrus berry out of the air.

The skwovet glared at Piers. Piers smirked at it before wiping the berry on his shirt. The pokemon chattered and hurried higher into the tree.

Leon frowned at Piers' interaction with the skwovet. Piers met his gaze, daring him to comment on it.

Leon cleared his throat. "That wasn't necessary."

"It was an accident."

Leon pursed his lips in doubt but didn't argue. Instead, he said, "So it's a battle, but it's an entertaining battle. I can do that."

Around a bite of berry, Piers shrugged, "It's a five-minute battle, but the point of the battle isn't to knock out your opponent with the first move. No one needs to faint. It's to show that your pokemon is better than theirs."

Piers half-expected Leon to go on about how no pokemon was better than another, instead, Leon stroked his chin in thought. Maybe Leon realized that a contest wouldn't be as fun as he thought and wanted to give up on the idea.

The branches above shook and the skwovet chattered. A leppa berry slammed into the ground near Piers' boot. The skwovet, arm loaded with unripe leppa berries, held up another. It threw it. Piers took a step to the side.

"Nice try," he mocked. The skwovet's fur bristled. It tossed down the rest of its armful and missed every time. With a huff, it stomped back towards its nest to rustle through its hoard.

"Alright. I think I can handle this," Leon said, moving into Piers' personal space and lifting his arm over Piers' head, "with your help."

Grinning, he stepped back then opened his fist to present an oran berry. The skwovet cried out in frustration. Piers rubbed the top of his head. He glanced up at the wild pokemon once more before walking away from the tree, with Leon in tow. It was best not to test his luck anymore. The skwovet might use a move on him and the last thing he wanted was to spend the night picking slobbery bullet seeds out of his hair.

The skwovet angrily chattered but seemed to give up. It hurried down the tree to gather its berries. Leon crouched to roll the oran berry over. The skwovet eyed him but snatched the berry up to shove into its cheeks anyway.

Piers raised an eyebrow. Maybe this training wouldn't be as bad as he thought.

----

The training area outside Spikemuth wasn't much, just a patch of barren earth that trainers from Spikemuth would come to battle when they didn't feel like using the gym. Currently, the only souls there were Piers and Leon. Since Marnie took over as gym leader, the younger trainers of the city moved their training back to the gym.

"They didn't want to come when you were the gym leader. They think you're scary," Marnie had explained. "Dunno why though. You're about as scary as a teddisuara."

Piers crossed his arms. "Do you know which pokemon you're goin' use? These are Hoenn rules, so you can only use one."

Leon tapped the pokeballs at his belt. "I'm not sure. I didn't think I could go in with Charizard, so I didn't bring him with me."

"Why not Charizard?"

"Everyone knows what my Charizard looks like," Leon explained. "And I don't think I can pretend not to be me if I use him."

Piers' brows furrowed. What in the world was he talking about?

Upon seeing Piers' expression, Leon chuckled to himself.

"I guess I forgot to tell you." He put his hands on his hips and set his feet a shoulder-width apart. "I'm going to do this contest in disguise."

The hope Piers just acquired vanished.

"You're what?"

"I'm going in disguise," He repeated. "I was the champion, and now I'm chairman. That would give me an unfair advantage, don't you think?"

Piers pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course, Leon would want to win on a level playing field. The Bellonean Ladies' Society would probably just give him the stupid hat if he promised to simply show up and bring more attention to the event. If he did that, Piers could have stayed at home and lazed about, but, noooo, Leon had to win his silly hat fair and square.

"How do you plan to do that?"

"Well, I hoped you could help me with that, too." Leon pointed to his face. "I've seen your stage makeup, and you're talented. I bet you could make me look like a different person."

Piers hated that he couldn't argue with that. Not long after he decided to follow his dream of being a punk star, one of the gym trainers offered to teach him the basics of cosmetics. Once he had the basics down, it only took a year of using his pokemon, friends, and Marnie as test subjects for him to perfect his art.

He could easily make Leon's face look different enough: soften his cheekbones, maybe a few freckles, pull his bangs back, color contacts, and glasses...Leon would look good in glasses, even if it meant hiding his natural eye color...

Piers shook his head. He hadn't agreed to anything but training for the contest. He was not giving Leon a makeover like they were preteens at a slumber party.

Leon pursed his lips. "It would be pointless if I won because of who I am. That wouldn't be fair to the other train—coordinators."

"No. Figure that out yourself."

Leon sighed, his shoulders slumped. He muttered under his breath, something Piers couldn't make out. Finally, he straightened and shrugged.

"You know, I have to approve the budgets for each gym provided by the league," he lifted one finger and wagged it as he continued, "and wouldn't it be nice if Spikemuth got a little extra in their budget so their new gym leader could fix up her gym stadium? I know the Spikemuth Chamber of Commerce can't always give too much to the gym, and it needs a few repairs."

Piers' mouth fell a gape. Did Leon just try to bribe him through his sister? He had to admit, he was impressed. It wasn't the best bribery offer he'd ever been given, but considering whom the offer came from and what Marnie would get in return, he decided to give in.

"Make sure the gym gets enough to replace the crumplin’ stadium walls, and I'll do it." Piers stuck out his hand.

Leon took the offered hand in his and shook once. "I knew you'd have a change of heart."

Piers yanked his hand back. "Change of heart my ass. Just send out your pokemon."

With a nod, Leon let out each of his pokemon in turn: Aegislash, Haxorus, Dragapult, Mr. Rime, Seismatoad, then Rhyperior. True to his word, he hadn't brought his ace pokemon with him. Like a well-oiled machine, they quickly lined up and turned their full attention to their trainer.

Pride rolled off Leon as he gazed at his team. Up until last year, this team was undefeated. Leon kept them at their best and even Piers could call that admirable.

"Alright everyone, listen here." Leon clapped his hands as if any of them didn't have their eyes on him. "Remember how I said we were going to enter a contest? Well, only one of you can enter it with me."

Leon's Mr. Rime leaned on his cane and Aegislash shifted his shield, though the other pokemon didn't react one way or another to the news.

"Contests aren't like normal battling. They're a performance." Leon gestured to Piers. "Piers is going to help pick the best one of you for the contest."

Piers snorted. "Oh, didn't I tell you? I'm not assessin' your team."

Leon's hand dropped to his side. He tilted his head.

"You're not?"

"No."

Piers took out the only pokeball he had on him. With a flick of the wrist, he released his own contest partner. The stench of rotten eggs filled the air. Everyone but Piers jerked back to cover their noses.

Skuntank shook himself out. He stretched his front paws forward then pulled the rest of his body up like a cat in a sunbeam. Piers crouched down and patted his partner between the ears.

"Skuntank here won nearly every contest he entered," Piers explained. "He knows more about them than even I do, I'd say. Even keeps track of the Sinnoh contests online. If anyone can give this team a proper assessment, it'll be him."

Skuntank lifted his head proudly then stomped forward. He stalked up, down, and around the line, eyeing each pokemon. He stopped in front of Haxorus, narrowed his eyes, and rumbled. Haxorus shuffled nervously. She looked to her team members then back at Skuntank. Siesmatoad shrugged, and Dragapult looked away.

Satisfied, Skuntank trotted back to Piers. He took a breath and stated something to the pokemon, loud and clear.

The other pokemon were taken aback. They muttered amongst themselves, all except Mr. Rime and Aegislash. With his chest puffed out, Mr. Rime strode forward. A moment later, Aegislash floated next to him. The rest of the team remained still.

"That's the two to choose from," Piers said. To the other members of Leon's team, he continued, "You can go over there. Take a rest why don't you?" He jabbed his thumb towards the grass at the side of the training area.

Without missing a beat, Dragapult floated away, soon followed by Siesmatoad, Haxorus, and Rhyperior.

Leon gasped. "That's amazing. How does Skuntank know?"

It wasn't as if Skuntank could smell contest talent on Mr. Rime and Aegislash. It just so happened that when Skuntank asked, Mr. Rime and Aegislash wanted to enter a contest. The rest weren't interested.

Ignoring Leon's question, Piers asked, "How do you want to decide between these two."

Leon blinked. "Isn't that what Skuntank is here for?"

With a thump, Skuntank flopped to the ground, paws under his chin, and shut his eyes.

"He's filled his quota." Piers said. "This is your job, Mr. Chairman."

Leon stroked his chin. He crouched down between his pokemon. Mr. Rime tapped his feet and spun his cane. Leon lifted his eyebrows at the impromptu performance. Not to be outdone, Aegislash held his shield up and spun it on the end of his arm. He tossed the shield then expertly caught it.

Mr. Rime danced backward. He spun in a circle, holding his cane up to the sky. From the tip of the cane, snow flurried around him, glittering like tiny diamonds.

Aegislash, upon seeing Leon's dazzled expression at Mr. Rime's performance, clanged his shield and blade together. With his trainer's attention back on him, Aegislash whipped his arm out. The shield rolled out on its side into the middle of the battle area. In the blink of an eye, Aegislash descended into his shadow. Using shadow sleek, he hurried in front of the shield.

Aegislash burst from the ground, large and dark. He whipped the shield up. the sun glinted off the polished metal. Contrasted against Aegislash's dark form, the shining shield appeared like a bright star in the night sky.

Leon's mouth fell a gape. "Wow, I didn't know you could do that, Aegislash."

Aegislash returned to his normal appearance and smugly shurgged. Mr. Rime stomped his foot in frustration. He put his fingers to his mouth and whistled for Leon to look at him. Once again, his cane spun. Around him, aurous panes of light screen appeared then frosted over. Mr. Rime stopped and raised his arms. The light screen panes shot up and burst like fireworks.

Aegislash bristled. His grip on his shield tightened and his single eye narrowed. Mr. Rime sneered at him as Leon carefully picked up the frozen light screen fragments to examine.

Piers clapped his hands once. "Don't you lot make this a battle." To Leon, he ordered, "You need to pick one."

Leon stood. "But they're both really talented."

From behind them, Skuntank snorted. Aegislash and Mr. Rime turned their glares from each other to the dark-type.

Piers agreed with Leon, even if his pokemon didn't, but leaving those two to keep one-upping each other wouldn't end well. Leon had to pick a partner for the contest, even if it would hurt someone's feelings.

Leon thought on his choice then slumped forward with a sigh. He rummaged in his pocket and held up a coin.

"I can't decide," he admitted. "Heads for Mr. Rime and tails for Aegislash."

He flicked the coin into the air. Like the oran berry before, he caught it from the air. With a hard smack that made the top of Pier's hand hurt, Leon slapped it on the top of his hand. Aegislash and Mr. Rime stood tense as Leon slowly lifted his hand.

"Heads."

Mr. Rime jumped up with joy. Aegislash dropped his shield to the ground with a thud. Leon reached out to comfort him, but Aegislash waved him away. Dragging his shield through the dirt, he trudged towards the other pokemon.

Skuntank lumbered back to his feet. He intercepted Aegislash. Skuntank rumbled at Aegislash. He silently mulled over what Skuntank said then lifted his shield from the ground.

In a voice like clashing metal, Aegislash yelled at Mr. Rime. Mr. Rime stumbled in his tap dancing, looking shocked at what his teammate said. Skuntank cackled, slapping the ground with his paw. With his mood improved considerably, Aegislash led Skuntank away to join the other pokemon.

----

Mr. Rime was a showman. Even with the occasional heckle from Skuntank, he and Leon managed to cobble together the start of an alright appeal round. After Piers finally admitted that the move categories meant shit all for the beginner contests, Leon decided to make use of what Mr. Rime already presented: sparkling snow and unique uses of psychic power.

Piers, for his part, offered critique when he saw a move that might be too showy or too dull, but mostly left Leon to his own devices. After all, Leon was the one entering, not him.

A thunderbolt tore through an icy column, shattering it. A glow of psychic power protected some of the ice from the heat. When the mist cleared, what remained was the carving of the Champion's logo.

Leon pumped his fist. "There we go!"

Skuntank muttered something to Aegislash, who replied in agreement. Though he hadn't been as loud in his criticism as Skuntank, Aegislash made snide remarks for every misstep.

Piers had more fun watching Skuntank and Aegislash than Leon and Mr. Rime, honestly.

As the heat both from the thunderbolts and the day wore on, Piers was thankful he choose to sit under the shade instead of directly interact with Leon.

Though on the field, he would have had a better view.

Every time Leon raised his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow, Piers turned his attention towards him. Rehain once mentioned Leon weight trained and exercised to stay as fit as his team, and Piers could tell. He stared at the well-formed muscles usually hidden under Leon’s shirt several times before finally being caught.

“Is something wrong? Is this too much?” Leon gestured to Mr. Rime’s newest ice sculpture.

Piers made up a suggestion to save himself the embarrassment.

“It’s fine, but you’re rushin’. Slow down, if you know how to do that,” Piers replied, turning his head to hide his pink cheeks against his shoulder.

“Oh, alright.” Leon nodded. “Mr. Rime, take a few more seconds before calling down the thunderbolt!”

Stuntank chuckled and Piers sent him a glare.

“Shut up,” he hissed, earning another laugh from Stuntank.

Something pulled at Piers' sleeve. One of Dragapult's dreepy chewed on his jacket. When Piers acknowledged it, it flew in a circle trying to get him to play with it. It went to nip at the end of one of his ponytails.

Dragapult sighed and wrapped his tail around the dreepy to pull it back. He gave Piers an apologetic look.

The rest of Leon's team wasn't doing much better. They were bored out of their minds.

Siesmatoad ripped a clump of grass from the ground and tossed it in her mouth. Rhyperior and Haxorus took turns stabbing leaves through their horns or tusks, seeing who could make the biggest hole without tearing the leaf in half.

Before Leon and Mr. Rime could start again, Piers called, "That's enough for today."

He stood and put his hands on his lower back to stretch. Skuntank grumbled but got to his paws.

"Well, if you say so." Leon came over to the crowd of pokemon with Mr. Rime. "Everyone ready?"

Seismatoad spat out the grass clump, nearly hitting Rhyperior's foot. Dragapult cooed and the rest of his dreepy hoard hurried out of the tall grass. Aegislash refused to look at Mr. Rime, instead of staying close to Stuntank. Haxorus bent forward and pressed the button on her pokeball with her mouth scythe, returning herself.

When Leon took out Aegislash's ball, Piers put a hand on his wrist.

"Before you return him, can I ask you a favor?"

Leon raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Aegislash and Skuntank seem to be havin' fun together. Do you think Aegislash could come back with me for tonight?" Piers asked. Skuntank stamped a foot and wheezed in approval.

Leon lowered Aegislash's pokeball. He bent down so he looked Aegislash in his singular eye.

"Do you want to have a slumber party with Skuntank at Spikemuth?" He spoke like a parent to a child. Mr. Rime snickered. Stuntank kicked sand at him with a short growl.

Piers pulled the bill of Leon's hat down over his eyes.

"Aegislash is probably older than both of us combined," he reminded. "Don't call it a slumber party."

Leon pushed his hat up and wrinkled his brow. Realization crossed his face.

"Ah." He asked Aegislash, "Do you want to have a date with Skuntank at Spikemuth?"

Piers went to pull Leon's hat clean off, but Aegislash took hold of the bill and pulled until it completely covered Leon's face with the bill touching his chin. He rolled his eye and shrugged towards Skuntank. Skuntank snickered and shook his head back in reply.

Leon laughed, taking the hat into his lap. "I'm joking. I'm joking. Sorry." He put a hand on Aegislash's shoulder. "Really, if you want to hang out with Skuntank for the night, you can." He smiled sincerely.

Aegislash paused, eyed his trainer, then seemed to sigh. He took the hat from Leon's hands and set it on his head. He patted his head, like a parent pacifying a child. Aegislash floated by him towards Skuntank.

-----

“Listen up.”

Piers whistled to the crowd of dark-type pokemon around the Spikemuth stadium. All heads turned towards him and the two pokemon by his side.

“This is Aegislash. He’s part of Chairman Leon’s team.” Piers nodded to Aegislash. “He’s visitin' for the night, so don’t be an asshole.”

He sent a pointed look at Malamar, who crossed his tentacles. Malamar only recently got out of trouble for scaring people around Spikemuth. Neither he nor Marnie needed Aegislash going back to Leon traumatized from Malamar's pranks.

The gym pokemon muttered and mumbled to themselves, eyeing Aegislash suspiciously.

Going well so far.

No one jumped to attack or called out an obscenity towards the new pokemon. Already it was going better when Raihan brought his pokemon over to play while he and Piers visited. Not one sucker punch to the back.

Marnie’s Grimsnarl picked up the toy ball and held it protectively. Both scrafty scooted to shield their tower of cards. Obstagoon took his nose out of a bag of crisps for a moment before shoving it right back in. Liepard yawned, purposely exposing her fangs, before laying her head on Toxicroak’s lap. Toxitricity peeked an eye open from his corner then continued strumming his chest. Morpeko jumped off the stage and scurried over to Aegislash and Skuntank.

She greeted them. Skuntank wheezed to her as Aegislash lifted his shield in a hello. Morpeko spoke with Aegislash a moment before turning to the rest of the pokemon. She took a deep breath and shouted to them her approval.

Malamar snorted but uncrossed his tentacles. Grimsnarl slowly took the ball back out. Neither scrafty moved from their hard work. Toxitricity waved idly. Liepard and Toxicroak and Obstagoon didn’t acknowledge the announcement, the former two napping and the latter still stuffing his maw.

Skuntank jerked his head towards Toxitricity's corner of the gym. Aegislash and Morpeko followed after. Grimsnarl and Malamar watched them closely.

Marnie took a bite of her hamburger. Around it, she asked, “Is that really Leon’s aegislash?”

Piers open the bag from Bob’s Your Uncle to dig out his order. “He is. He and Leon’s Mr. Rime got into a fight, and Aegislash wanted to be away.”

“So Leon asked you?” She swallowed.

Piers thought on his feet. “Dark and ghost types are pretty close when you get down to it. Born of night and the deepness of the soul and all that.”

“Shouldn’t he have asked Allister?”

Piers took a bite of his burger and slowly chewed. He swallowed and said, “Kid must have been busy. He’s still got school to go— just like you.” Piers smirked, leaning over. “And how’s that school work going, little sis?”

Marnie blushed. She huffed, snatched the bag from Piers, then marched to the stage at the other end of the stadium.

Even being a gym leader, Marnie still had to go to school like every other kid her age. Since she was still learning to juggle gym leader duties and school, Marnie fell behind in her classes and had to take extra lessons.

Piers had been the same when he took over the gym, but he usually skipped after-school lessons. She complained about the lessons often, and Piers offered an understanding ear.

He wasn’t above using this information against her, though.

With long strides, he followed his sister. He overtook her quickly. Holding his burger between his teeth, Piers hopped onto the stage and sat, his toes brushing the ground. Marnie walked up the steps to sit near him. She purposefully set the bag with their food on the side farthest away from Piers. He leaned across her to fish his chips out of the bag.

They sat in companionable silence, watching the pokemon as they ate their fast food.

When Marnie’s scrafty turned to open another pack of cards for their tower, Malamar raised a tentacle glowing in psychic power. With both scrafty backs to it, a card from the middle of the tower pulled itself out.

Piers’ scrafty gasped and tried to hold the wobbling tower together, but only managed to save the top two cards from falling. As the scrafty started to argue, Grimsnarl went to the wooden crate next to the stage. She sat her ball inside and began to dig through the pokemon toys until she found another ball. This ball was worn and patched up. She wandered over to Malamar to talk.

Skuntank, Toxtricity, and Aegislash lounged against one of the crumbling stadium walls as Morpeko chewed on a berry. They made friendly conversation until Grimsnarl and Malamar came over. Grimsnarl raised her ball.

Skuntank shrugged and spoke to Aegislash. Malamar sneered at Aegislash. Aegislash rolled his eye and pushed himself up. Skuntank slowly lumbered to his feet. Toxtricity shook his head. Morpeko tossed her berry up and caught it in her mouth before standing as well.

Piers nudged Marnie and pointed at the pokemon as they walked to the middle of the stadium.

Grimsnarl tossed the ball and hit it to Skuntank. Skuntank bopped it with his head. The ball dropped towards Aegislash. Aegislash raised an arm to hit it, but Malamar’s tentacle shot out and smacked the ball up. Aegislash snapped something at Malamar, who ignored him.

Piers chuckled to himself as the game of hot potato continued. Every time the ball neared Aegislash, Malamar or Grimsnarl made sure to hit it before he could. Of course, they were testing him. Being on the former champion’s team wasn’t enough to prove Aegislash worthy, even with Stuntank and Morpeko's approval.

Soon Aegislash had enough. When Malamar went to hit the ball for himself, Aegislash shadow sleeked behind him. He burst from the ground and slapped the ball towards Grimsnarl. The attack on her friend took Grimsnarl by surprise. She stumbled back trying to hit the ball but missed. For the first time since the game started, the ball bounced against the floor.

Skuntank cackled. Morpeko chased after the ball. Malamar stared at Aegislash, who held his ground.

Marnie started to push off the stage to break up the fight, but Piers put a hand out to stop her.

After a few tense heartbeats, Malamar coughed a laugh. He covered his beak and shook his head. Grimsnarl took the ball back from Morpeko. Seeing the newfound respect for Aegislash from Malamar, she went back over to the box to switch the worn, old ball, for a nicer ball with a pink and cream polka-dot pattern.

Marnie let out a breath. Piers tossed a chip in his mouth.

He knew things would work out well. Like his trainer, Aegislash was endearing in his determination.

He wondered what Leon was doing while the Spikemuth pokemon played. As late as it was, he was probably home, or maybe he was training with Mr. Rime for the contest. Piers could almost see him now working with Mr. Rime to pose in time with some pop song.

Leon worked hard for what he wanted. It's no wonder he became champ so young and held the title for nearly a decade. If Piers had that kind of drive, he wouldn’t have left Spikemuth fall into disrepair as he did.

He bet he could ask Leon to help him fix up Spikemuth, and not just the gym. The outside walls needed the myriad of penises and breasts painted over. He could do it, but it would be better with some company, particularly with company that had the energy of a sugar-high puppy. Enjoying the outside air, just talking and working—That would be fun. Piers would be willing to wake up early for that.

Piers reached into his chip container absentmindedly but found nothing but salt. He jerked out of his thoughts to see his last two chips disappear—one into Morpeko’s mouth and one into Marnie’s.

“The hell?” He held his hands out towards the empty container.

“Do you have a new girlfriend?” She asked bluntly.

Piers choked on his tongue. “What?” He shook his head. “No! Why would you think that?”

“A boyfriend? A non-binary friend?”

“No,” Piers assured. “I don’t have anyone.”

“Huh.” Marnie scratched Morpeko behind the ears. “You had that look on your face.”

“Look?” Piers’ stomach clenched as he asked, “What look?”

“That look.” Marnie pulled her pokemon to her lap. “The one you get before Morpeko and me find some gushy love song folded up on the living room floor. It happens every time.”

Piers’ ears grew hot. Twice, Marnie found his secret love songs twice. For that reason, he didn’t even write them on scrap paper anymore but in a nondescript notebook in his dresser drawer—which he hadn’t pulled out since he broke up with an ex gym trainer more than a year ago.

Morpeko stuck her tongue out in disgust at finding another love song. She clambered over Marnie’s arms to the chips container. Morpeko licked her paw, dabbed it in the leftover salt, and cleaned her paw before hopping off the stage to rejoin the game.

“I don’t have a look like that.”

“Yes, you do,” Marnie replied in a sing-song voice. “You get this far away look on your face and a little, tiny smile like you’re thinkin' of somethin’ soft. I only see it when you’re datin’ someone or,” her eyes widen in realization, “you gotta crush.”

Piers’ stomach unclenched and fell to his boots.

“You’ve got a crush, dotcha?” His little sister pried. “Who is it? Do they like you back? Can they like you back? Are they a trainer? What’s their pokemon team? Do you see them often?”

Piers' head spun, blurring the rest of Marnie’s inquiries.

No way. He was too old for crushes, for one thing. For two, if Marnie’s theory held any water, then his ‘crush’ would be Leon.

That wasn’t possible.

Sure, he admired Leon’s strength and his determination. His kindness towards pokemon and others was sweet if a little goody-two-shoes. He was much more clever than he first appeared. His athletic frame stole Piers' attention and he wouldn't mind leaning up against that strength-trained chest.

Oh. Arceus. No.

Piers’ face reddened as he cataloged his thoughts. He did have a crush. He had a crush on Leon. Leon was the Chairman of the League. Not only that, he was and still is the poster child for preppy, sporty trainers everywhere. Leon was the goal children were taught to chase if they wanted to compete.

Only the trainers from Team Yell ever wanted to be anything like Piers, a badass who sang to his own song, not the one society dictated.

Sponsors flocked to Leon like mothim to a flame for his perfect public persona.

Only the Spikemuth Chamber of Commerce ever sponsored Piers, and that’s only because they always sponsored the gym leader.

Leon was the light that the world idolized.

He was the darkness that fought back to prove to those that the shadows were protective and safe for people like him. He was a fierce dark-type trainer. He sang punk rock. He had a band of miscreants who would follow his every order.

He could not have a crush on Leon.

Yet, he did.

What if people found out? Arceus, if news got around he wanted some of Leon’s finely toned ass—

“Piers?” Marnie poked his cheek.

He jumped, losing his balance and tumbling off the stage.

At the thud of his fall, the pokemon stopped their game. Obstagoon tossed his crisps bag aside to barrel towards his trainer. He skidded to his knees, dramatically throwing his claws up and crying out as if Piers fell off a ten-story building.

Marnie hopped down. Crouching, she asked, “Did you break your face?”

Piers groaned loudly. “Dark void, open up and swallow me. I no longer want to live in this cruel world that would play my heart like a harp string and snap it with its sick, twisted irony.”

Once Piers went on with his dramatic monologue, the pokemon returned to their games, confident Piers was fine. Obstagoon patted the back of Piers’ head reassuringly.

Marnie crouched next to him. “Is the person you have a crush on that bad? Are they married or,” she lowered her voice, “old?”

“We’re the same age.” Piers didn’t lift his head from the ground. “He’s single as far as I know.”

Marnie poked his cheek. “So what’s the matter? Are you too scared to ask him out?”

“No. It’s worse than that.” Piers crawled into Obstagoon’s lap and leaned his back against the warm, somewhat smelly, fur. Obstagoon wrapped him in a hug. He’d seen his trainer confused and in a pansexual punk panic before. Piers needed all the comfort Obstagoon could give him.

Marnie tucked her legs under her and waited expectantly for Piers to clarify.

He sighed, slumping farther down Obstagoon’s lap. Obstagoon’s arm fur tickled his nose as he buried his face in it.

“I can’t ask him out,” Piers muttered. “He’s my opposite.”

“Opposite?” Marnie echoed.

“Opposite,” Piers repeated. He paused, then said, “I’m punk. He does ballet. What more can I say?”

Her brows furrowed. She opened her mouth, then shut it, opened, shut, then tilted her head with one eyebrow raised.

"He dances?”

Piers rolled his head away. “You kids have no culture.” He sighed. “He’s the kind of person every kid wants to be like. I’m the kind of person kids stop comin’ to community gyms to train because of.”

Marnie hit her fist into her palm. “Oh, I get it. You don’t want to drag down his rep ‘cause people think you’re a lazy delinquent.”

“Hey!” Piers bolted up, right into Obstagoon’s hanging tongue. He wiped the slobber off his forehead with his forearm. He jabbed a finger at Marnie.

“It’s the other way around. He’d pull mine up from a mysterious, cool rebel rocker.”

He cringed at himself. Out loud it sounded childish. What was he, a schoolboy?

Piers flopped back against Obstagoon, grabbed Obstagoon’s arm, and dropped it over his face.

“Suffocate me. Please. I need to die to escape this torment.”

With a humph, Marnie wrapped her arms around Obstagoon’s thick forearm and lifted. She looked down at her brother with a frown.

“That’s it?” She shook her head. “That’s sad.”

“You’re a kid. You don’t understand.” Piers countered, trying to pull Obstagoon’s arm back over his face.

Marnie wrinkled her nose and tugged against Piers’ attempts.

“I am not.” She dug her feet into the ground. “It is sad. If you’re a ‘mysterious, cool, rebel rocker,’ why should you care what anyone thinks?”

Piers dropped his hands to his lap.

Without the opposing force against her, Marnie fell backward, still clinging to Obstagoon’s arm. Instead of letting her fall, Obstagoon lifted his arm, leaving her hanging off the ground. He carefully lowered her, but she kept his arm pressed against her chest.

Piers pushed himself up to his feet. He patted the back of his shirt, throwing black and white fur into the air. Without a word, he headed to the stage and picked up the trash from their food.

“Piers?” Marnie hugged Obstagoon’s arm to her chest. “Are you ok? I didn’t break you, did I?”

Piers turned. “Yeah. Just fine.” He walked back, bag in hand. A smile spread across his face as he reached up and ruffled her hair.

“You’re right. I was being the opposite of cool.” He admitted, prying her hands off Obstagoon's arm. “Thanks for reminding me.”

Marnie was right. He was the cool, fierce master of dark-type pokemon. He became one of the strongest trainers in all of Galar without resorting to Dynamax in a pinch.

Why the hell should he give a flying ratata’s ass about what other people think about who he wants to make out with?

He still didn’t want people knowing about his contest days. The stereotype of elitist snob coordinators still hung too closely to contests. The attraction could excuse Leon, but he didn't have a good enough excuse for dressing skuntank in a tophat and glittery, purple bow tie when he was still a stunky yet. Maybe if the contest scene grew a little, he could try again, but until then best keeping that particular secret under wraps.

Marnie shrugged, aloof. “It’s whatever. Someone needs to help you keep your head spun the right way around. I'm the only one qualified for it.”

“What would I do without you?” Piers chuckled.

“Die, probably,” Marnie replied. “So can you ask this guy out? Does he like you at all?”

Piers shrugged.

He didn’t know if Leon liked men. As far as he could remember, Leon never dated anyone of any gender. Leon had always been laser-focused on training and being the strongest trainer in Galar.

But if he did like men, would he be interested in Piers? He didn't know, but given how much time they’d be spending together training for the contest, maybe he could figure it out.

Marnie, her ponytails somewhat righted, asked, “If you need help, Gloria and me could—”

“I’d rather step on a pincurchin,” Piers cut her off, crushed the paper bag into a ball, and tossed it to the side. It bounced and went right through Scrafty's new card tower.

"Sorry," he apologized.

Scrarfy sobbed and slumped back. Marnie’s scrafty looked towards him then sighed. She walked around and helped him pick up the cards, their friendship restored.

“I’ll tell you if I find out anything.” He pointed at the hot potato game still ongoing with his thumb. “Right now, though, you and me don’t need boys when we can play with the best pokemon in the Galar region, though.” To Grimsnarl, he shouted, "Oi, toss it to me!"

Marnie giggled as Piers took her wrist and led her towards the game.

----

AN: Shout out to my friend Sara for the help with this! You da best!!! ^-^)/ Next chapter should be next week? I'll probably post to A03 first though if you want less of a wait.

Also feel free to follow my art blog @uas-art if you enjoyed the chapter art.

[cyberfairyblog]

Caves of Qumran prologue

Jason, Whit, Connie, Eugene, Katrina, Regina, Calypso and Vanessa go to Qumran to rescue Jason's former colleagues. Jason x OC, Eugene x Katrina, rewrite of the cartoon. The dialogue is wonky I know ;_;

Deep within the caves of a tiny Middle Eastern Country, a pretty blonde haired woman wearing a red shirt and green shorts walked down the caves reading the runes with her torch. She looked around sensing something - or someone - in the same vicinity and contacted her partner.

"Stanley Stanley are you there?"

From not far away,a tall brunette man in a business suit answered back. "I read you Sarah I'm just trying to navigate - WHOAH-" He yelped as he fell into the shallow pool.

"Stanley I don't think we're alone," Sarah voiced her concern.

"Don't tell me you're developing a case of the creepy crawlers." He saw a bunch of cobwebs and proceeded to freak out. Blinded by fear he ran smack dab into the wall and fell.

"Stanley what's happening?"

Stanley got up and sputtered "nothing just taking a little breather," he replied hoping she didn't catch that embarrassing pickle.

The two partners went back and forth, Sarah arguing that they needed to stick together, Stanley countered back claiming her fears were unfounded.

"We shouldn't be wasting our time chasing after a shadow," Stanley said. The inappropriately dressed explorer was too busy talking up his own bravery that he stepped on a brick, that sunk into the ground very slightly but the effect was devastating.

Stanley was just getting up again when the walls disappeared from behind him. Alarmed he tried to see what was going on, but then he heard footsteps approaching him.

Stanley screamed.

By then Sarah was too far into the tunnel to hear her partner's distress. Even through the walkie-talkie he was pleading saying that she was completely right there was someone not in their group in the caves hunting them down. But she didn't listen. She arrived in a small room filled with crates and gasped at the labels some of them bore.

Dozens of ancient artifacts strewn all over, and a table upturned as if there had been a fight. Sarah saw an older woman laying on the floor.

"Professor?" The blonde gasped. The professor's eyes were closed and her body was still like ice.

"No you can't be dead!" The blonde woman shouted in fright, collapsing to her mentor's side to check her pulse. To her relief she was alive but her skin felt cold. They needed to get out of there. Taking out her walkie-talkie she contacted Stanley.

She got her answer when Stanley dropped right in front of her, tied up with rope. "My god what happened?!" Her suspicions were sadly confirmed as another person showed up but they were shrouded in complete darkness.

"No stop, let us go please!" Sarah begged but her desperate pleas echoed with not a single soul to care...

It had been a long slow day at J&J Antiques so it didn't surprise Vanessa in the least bit when she saw Jason asleep on the desk in his office. Smiling she took the time to remove the papers trapped under his face - he would hate having them ruined by a cascade of saliva - and sat them aside.

"Jason," she whispered in his ear. "I'm gonna go ahead and close up shop for you."

The ex-agent only muffled a response. Wow he must've really had a rough day, no doubt because of that woman, Vanessa mused internally. She spent the next several minutes stowing things away and turned on the neon closing sign. By then Jason had woken up and dragged himself into the main room. "Did I miss something?"

"No, just me doing your job," the novelist said with a tease.

Blue eyes glanced at his watch. "Wait it's past seven already? Crap!" Jason exclaimed with a frown.

"Don't worry there hadn't been a customer, you were pretty knocked out though," she replied now feeling concerned. "That's a sign you need a vacation."

Jason was surprised at how clean the main room was, and guilty he fell asleep on the job. That rarely happened even during his time at the NSA and that job required doing paperwork *shudder*. In gratitude he wrapped his strong arms around the plush woman, and they gazed into each other eyes. "What would I do without you Nessie?"

"Oh I don't know, missing, dead, forced to perform at some gangster's kid's birthday party," Vanessa said all that with a shrug. Jason chuckled before pecking her on the lips. They stayed that way for a while until the phone rang. Grumbling at the loss of intimacy Jason trudged over to answer it. Meanwhile Vanessa went to sanitize the counters. She could hear him perk up at the other person on the line.

"Professor Janet it's good to hear from you, how's the expedition?" They talked for a good while and then Jason mentioned something about moving. "We hope to get them by the end of this week! Nice talking to you Professor!"

"Who was that?"

"That my dear was Professor Janet, we used to worked together back when I was a missionary," he explained. "She's sending us gifts from her latest expedition!"

"Oh? That's neat!" Vanessa clapped her hands. "Our museum does need some new items!"

"And the best part is they're entirely free! No payment whatsoever!" In excitement he scooped her up again and kissed her. "Trust me our museum is going to flourish!"

So that was how, almost a week later, a moving van arrived outside the manor house and its drivers unloaded beautiful artifacts of times long passed. According to Jason they came from a tiny middle eastern nation called Qumran.

"Are you sure it's a good idea having those things here?" Calypso asked while watching their progress. "I don't want to have to deal with a curse!"

"Come on Callie you know there's no such things as curses," Regina nudged her on her arm.

The Greek woman crossed her arms. Something smelled fishy about the whole thing.

One of the drivers, who wanted to be cheeky, held a vase out for Dylan. "Here kid catch!" The driver sneered before throwing it. Dylan tried to catch it in time but the poor thing crashed into the ground in a bazillion pieces before he could reach it. Vanessa's face drained and she slowly approached the pile of shards. Before anyone could response the van drove away leaving the black woman to pick up some of the pieces. She was almost in tears.

"They looked like they didn't care," Vanessa grumbled. "I oughta call out to their bosses and give them a piece of my mind!"

"We'll get our justice soon," Jason patted her on the shoulder. "What kind of employee does that to rare artifacts?!"

His father hummed. It did seem odd a professor would hire such careless folks. But at least the other items were in tact.

Little did they realize there was a lot more beyond ancient history behind their new gifts. Something that could lead to an exciting adventure away from Odyssey!

So I'm rewriting the episode "The Caves of Qumran" with Jason and my OCs inserted because I'm in a self indulgent mood. Unlike the OG episode Dylan won't be in this - I like him an all but he wouldn't really fit. Besides I want to see how my OCs would act in an episode. I'm not copying dialogue word for word a lot of it is my own. Also the main couple is Jason x Vanessa (my oc, obviously) as well as Eugene x Katrina. Professor Janet is an OC and an important one in this story. This story has a strong message particularly parodying Hobby Lobby and its recent controversies so that'll be fun! Leave some comments and remember: don't forget to tip the servers!

[kaibacorpintern]

yuugi and kaiba... platonic... maybe a lil angst like kaiba doesnt know how to have friends and yuugi just accepts him as he is and kaiba can be a kid for once.. for the minific prompt pls? :) thank u.. luv ur blog btw

just thought you should know that when i read this prompt i instantly turned into this and wrote almost 5,000 words. it’s a little angsty and about friendship, but it’s also about loneliness and food and depression, with a few jokes peppered in here and there. DSOD didn’t happen but atem is alive, because i say so. i want kaiba and yuugi to be friends so freakin’ bad.

long story short: i went nuts. thanks for the prompt!!

***

Every day, little by little, Kaiba looked greyer. The lines of his shoulders slouched. The hollows under his eyes deepened, like holes being dug in the dirt, on hands and knees; a slow, miserable burying. To hear him speak was worse. Yuugi heard his voice from thousands of miles away, like he was on a different continent, a different planet, and the light of every thought was crossing the staggering empty silence of space. It terrified Yuugi, to think of Kaiba as fading, that someone who raged with all the thrill and fury of a storm could slow down like this. But he was fading. 

“Hey. Are you alright? You seem down lately,” Yuugi tried, on one of the rare mornings where he caught him alone in the elevator, on his way up to the game design department. With no one else around, he usually felt emboldened to drop the act: not an employee with his boss, maintaining proper deference, but someone who’d known Kaiba for a very long time, and knew him like few others did.

The glass-walled elevator whirred as it rose. Kaiba stood there with his arms crossed, impassive, his back to Domino. The city streets unfurled below them.

“The elevator’s going up, Yuugi,” he said, after a full seven seconds of silence. A weak dismissal, by his standards, made even weaker by a toneless delivery.

“Sure. But - ”

With a polite ding, the elevator opened onto the game design floor. 

“You’re running late,” Kaiba said, nodding him pointedly out the door.

“Bro, I’m fifteen minutes early,” Yuugi said.

“Don’t fucking ‘bro’ me, ” Kaiba snarled, with all the sudden, twitching ferocity of a nervous dog. Yuugi smiled and slowly backed out of the elevator, his palms turned out, long enough to make his point: he'd come in peace. Kaiba frowned at him, bristling, until the elevator doors started to close. The last Yuugi saw of him, before they touched together, were a pair of blue eyes, their fiery energy winking out like a popped spark, falling shut with a sigh.

At his desk, Yuugi toyed with his phone for a good ten minutes, ignoring emails and his coworkers’ good mornings, his thumb hovering over Mokuba’s contact info as he rehearsed in his head. Hey, how’s Stanford? You enjoying your classes so far? Making friends? Of course you are. Great. Well, so, I’m calling because I’m worried about your brother - 

A call like that would put Mokuba on a plane within an hour, honestly. But maybe Mokuba would want to know. Maybe he shouldn’t. Maybe if he left his first quarter of college and returned to Japan, just because his brother had a few bad nights or something, Kaiba would punt Yuugi off the top of the building. 

Maybe Atem? The only person Kaiba ever “talked” to about anything, if  pummeling each other with card game holograms could be called a conversation. Which they did.

YUUGI What’s eating Kaiba? Is he alright?

He stared at his phone a while longer until remembering it was the middle of the night in Egypt. He put his phone away, put Kaiba out of mind, and got to work.

***

Atem texted back mid-afternoon.

ATEM I don’t know. Go find out

YUUGI Okay but i’m not you lol he won’t tell me. even with a duel

ATEM GO

ATEM FIND

ATEM OUT

YUUGI OKAY I'LL DO MY BEST

ATEM And tell that stuck-up bastard to answer his fucking phone one of these days

Odd. Kaiba never ignored Atem.

YUUGI I’m on it

He finished work late, packed up his things, and headed downstairs to the lobby, moving quickly to catch his train. He had most of a mind to save the Kaiba question for later, go home, and flop face-down on his bed until he roused himself enough to pick at leftovers. The elevated metro station was awash in a crisp dusk light, the navy purple night descending on the day’s final line of gold. His train was coming in three minutes; the next on the same line in thirty-four. He'd just made it.

If he stood at the far end of the platform, craning his neck, he could see the long strip of windows at the top of the KaibaCorp tower. Dark. Kaiba had gone home early. Yuugi frowned, biting his lip, as his train arrived. 

He let it go, jostled and swaying in the flood of people flowing in and out of the carriages. The next train took him far from home, flying with sleek electric ease through the glittering glassy black monoliths of the city, and into the leafy, overgrown estates beyond the far edge of town.

***

Kaiba's estate was a brisk walk from the last station on the line, along the side of a road without sidewalks, and through a tunnel of trees that laced their branches together over the road. By the time Yuugi got to the gates, his feet aching in his sneakers, night had fallen. The trees were thick with shadow and wind, whispering to each other in fairy tale voices. It was the kind of night that urged people into their homes, with the doors locked, away from the ancient things that lurked in the undergrowth, wild and forgotten and stronger for it. He was relieved to reach the gates, on the edge of the illumination around Kaiba's mansion, held in the center of the light like a toy castle in a snow globe.

The gatehouse was empty. A security camera peered down at him from the top of a wall, nestled in a thick swell of vines. Ignoring its glossy little eye, Yuugi studied the door in the wall beside the gates, pushing more vines aside to find the keypad. If he called ahead, the chances of Kaiba buzzing him in were next to nothing. They were next to nothing on a good day.

YUUGI do you know the key code for the door?

ATEM 445241474F4E#

ATEM that took me literally years to get

ATEM go around the back. he won’t open the front door

YUUGI you're the best <3

He tapped in the code, carefully. What if he got it wrong? Would a trapdoor open up below his feet? With his back to the quiet road, and the dense, rustling woods on the other side, he swallowed his laugh. 

The door opened with a faint click. Yuugi slipped through and began the long walk up the drive to the mansion, sneakers crunching the gravel underfoot. On either side of the drive,  the lawns were pristine, every petal of every flower and every leaf on every hedge perfectly in place, holding the poses nature’s hand had fixed them in with effortless ease. Somewhere across the grass, shrouded in the night, came the distant murmur of a fountain. 

The mansion itself was an ugly, graceless brick of a building, so rigid and square in its design that its position in the center of this wooded estate seemed an oppressive intrusion. Per Atem’s instructions, Yuugi skirted the front, with its twin dragon statues and Roman columns and imposing front door, and went around to the back, padding silently through the grass. Like the top of the tower, the windows were dark. Every glance through the glass, checking for life, made him feel like he was looking into the bottom of a well, deep and cold and watery, a tomb for hopeless wishing. 

At the back of the house was a large patio, with a view of the sprawling grounds, which rolled downwards in a gentle slope, all the way to a line of trees. There, the grounds gave themselves back to the wild. Even on a shivering night like this, it was easy to imagine what the patio was like in the full splendor of high summer, drenched in sunlight and everything shimmering in golden-white heat.

A thin light cast a hazy cloud onto the patio through a pair of sliding glass doors. Yuugi stopped, halfway across the patio, questioning himself for the nth time that night. And if he was overreacting? So what if Kaiba was in a mood? Kaiba was always in a fucking mood. Yuugi had no doubt Kaiba would thunder at him for a while over the arrogance, the audacity of his presumptions or something, and then throw him out by the scruff of the neck. Oh, god. The embarrassment burned in his face already. 

Yuugi firmly shoved his own feelings aside. He was a gamer - a gambler - by nature, and he’d learned enough over the years to bet on his  own instincts. He gamed it out, in his head, shuddering into the warmth of his jacket as the breeze rolled through him:

He checks on Kaiba, and everything is fine: he goes home feeling awkward and Kaiba avoids him at work for the next three weeks. Acceptable outcome.

He does not check on Kaiba, and everything is fine: he goes home, and the whole night gets written off as a weird, secret little adventure. Acceptable outcome.

He checks on Kaiba, and everything is not fine: unacceptable, but now someone knows. Acceptable outcome. 

He does not check on Kaiba, and everything is not fine: Unacceptable outcome.

He stole towards the sliding glass doors. They led into a glossy modern kitchen, as pristine as the grounds, and full of clean, gleaming surfaces. It was completely free of clutter like mail, or keys, or coffee mugs, or any of the other odds and ends that usually piled up over the course of normal days. A bowl of flowers sat on a kitchen table in a breakfast nook, starting to wilt. At the end of the kitchen island was a bowl of fruit. A still-life painting split in two. 

Sitting at the island, perched on a bar stool, was Kaiba, his head resting in his folded arms atop the counter. His face was mostly hidden in the crook of his elbow; through the limp tangle of his bangs, Yuugi saw his eyes were closed. His black leather satchel leaned against the leg of the bar stool. The rise of his back as he breathed was slow and subtle, the only thing that convinced Yuugi Kaiba had not turned to stone in his seat. Asleep?

No. 

A small blue light rose up from Kaiba's phone, lying on the counter. One hand slowly unfolded, silenced the call, and refolded itself. A gesture that made less than a ripple across the still water of this tableau.

Awake.

Lifelessly, doing nothing. Not even staring into space, but retreating into the space behind his eyelids, a space Yuugi knew intimately well: shallow and lukewarm and wordless, a space for letting hours and days drift by, uncounted. It had been a long time since he’d visited - not since he’d solved the Puzzle - but it was a space he never wanted to revisit. It was a space that stayed with you for the rest of your life, once you’d been there, and yet a space more distant than the farthest star in the universe, beyond the boundaries of both light and love. A place of perfect solitude. 

Quietly, carefully, Yuugi tried the handle of the sliding glass door and found it unlocked. He slid it open. 

Kaiba startled, pulling himself upright as though yanked by a puppet string on his neck. He turned to Yuugi, still and alert, not quite comprehending. As he understood who stood there, the pieces clicking into place, his eyes hardened in his pallid face, speechless, furious. 

“Before you say anything,” Yuugi said, as Kaiba opened his mouth, “I have a story. Let me tell you, and then you can kick me out.”

“This is my fucking house. I can kick you out whenever I damn well please,” Kaiba snapped.

“It’s more of a puzzle, actually. I don’t think you’ve ever solved this one,” Yuugi said. 

Kaiba looked at him sideways, now more confused and suspicious than alarmed.

“And if I solve it?” he said, because ah, yes, of course, stakes. Nothing ever for the joy of it.

“Bragging rights.”

“If I don’t?”

“Nothing happens,” Yuugi said. 

They stared at each other. Yuugi ventured a smile. Did he dare walk in? He was still standing on the threshold. 

“Fine,” Kaiba said, a word more like a sigh. “Come in and tell me your stupid puzzle.”

***

Every house has its own particular smell, its character, its self-contained story about those who call it home. Yuugi took off his shoes, setting them beside the glass door, and frowned. Kaiba's smelled like clean linens, a touch of dust, cool air. A muted smell with no character. He didn't know what he expected. Something else, something thick and wet and heady, like oncoming thunder, or concrete after rain.

On this side of the glass doors, the kitchen was even more exquisite, temptingly so. He knew, from his lusty late-night Internet searches, that the knives in the wooden block alone cost more than several thousand dollars. Untouched! He refused to let them go to waste. Such things were more beautiful when they were held and used and loved, doing what they were made for. And despite the marbled silence, the thin white lighting, this was a house, not a museum. Yuugi dropped his backpack on the floor next to an empty bar stool and turned to Kaiba, who was sitting upright, hands atop his thighs, watching him.

“Uh - do you have anything to eat? I haven’t eaten since lunch,” he said, slinging his jacket over his backpack.

“No. Every night I just plug in and recharge,” Kaiba said dryly. “I believe that’s called a fridge. Those have human food.”

Yuugi bit his tongue, hiding his smile as he went around to the other side of the island. At least Kaiba was still capable of snark. He opened the massive fridge - sparse offerings, sparsely touched - and rooted around, not quite sure what he was looking for between the limp carrots and slabs of smoked salmon. Only the cheese drawer yielded interesting spoils, unspoiled and exotically European.

“The pantry?” he said, nodding at the door next to the fridge. 

“Presumably.”

Yuugi found a loaf of sourdough bread on a shelf in the walk-in pantry - a fucking walk-in pantry! - and returned to the counter with his haul: the bread, the butter, a wedge of Gruyere, and a brick of Emmental. “I’m making a grilled cheese. You want one?”

“If it makes you happy,” Kaiba muttered.

“It does, yeah,” Yuugi said, unsheathing one of those glorious, mirror-polished knives from the wooden block. He rolled up his sleeves and attacked the cheeses with relish. “So - the puzzle goes like this. You’re fifteen years old. You’re small for your age, underweight, painfully shy. You get shoved around a lot at school. Before school, after school. Whenever, honestly. No one really sticks up for you, although you try to stick up for them, when you can, and no one really talks to you, because you live in your own little world. Your head’s always in the clouds, and you get really excited over a lot of things no one else really cares about.”

As he spoke, he unearthed a frying pan and set it on the gas stove, slicing off several pats of butter. As they melted, soft and yellow-white, he carved several slices off the loaf, shuddering with secretive pleasure at the fresh crunch of the crust. 

“Next time, just bring me your high school diary,” Kaiba said. 

Yuugi snorted, buttering the slices and laying them carefully into the pan, where they began to sizzle. He draped the slices of cheese on top. “So you can read everything I wrote about you? No thanks. Anyway. You have one friend, but she’s not always around - her family travels a lot for work. So here you are, a bullied, lonely little oddball, and one day someone gives you a gift. A puzzle.”

“A puzzle in a puzzle.” 

“Right,” Yuugi said, pressing down on the slices of bread with a spatula. The butter crackled and spat; a thick, warm smell wafted through the kitchen. “And if you make a wish on the puzzle, it grants your wish when you solve it. So you make your wish, and you solve your puzzle. You know the rest.”

He turned back to Kaiba. “Now I’m here in your kitchen, making you a grilled cheese. So. What did I wish for?”

To his credit, Kaiba was taking it seriously, offering no snide comments about magic or wishing, leaning forward with his arms folded again on the counter. Yuugi let him study him, eyes narrowed and thoughtful, knowing he was running back through all eight years of their shared history, doing the math. 

“Well, no one shoves you around any more,” Kaiba said. “Not even me, judging by the fact that I can’t even get you to leave my house. I should’ve known better than to try.”

“Ooh, a compliment. Thanks, I’ll treasure it forever,” Yuugi said, grinning, flipping the sandwiches. Melted cheese oozed from the sides. The bottom slices had toasted to a golden brown. His mouth watered. “Plates?”

“Up and to your left.”  

Yuugi opened the cabinets and, standing on tiptoe, eased out two matte black stoneware plates. Fancy.

“You wished for strength,” Kaiba said. 

Yuugi slid the grilled cheeses onto the plates and severed them in half with the spatula. 

“Nope,” he said, leaning across the island counter to set the steaming grilled cheese in front of Kaiba. The semantic point that his friends and his strength were one and the same seemed irrelevant. He was speaking to Kaiba. He needed to speak in Kaiba’s language. “Strength wouldn’t have solved anything for me.”

“You just said you were getting shoved around  - ”

“I wished for friends, Kaiba,” Yuugi said. “Yeah, I was tired of getting shoved around. But I was even more tired of being alone.”

“I - “ Kaiba cut himself off, pressing a sigh through his nose with a tight, pinched expression. Within seconds his face soured. “You make a wish on your magical little trinket, and you get just what you always wanted. How fucking fantastic for you - ”

“Don’t do the aggressive-aggressive thing, it’s not cute,” Yuugi said. “And don’t test me, either. You and I are way past that. Just look me in the face and tell me, honestly, you want me to leave.”

Kaiba turned that ferocious blue gaze on him, silent.

Yuugi waited, holding his gaze. 

Thin, languid tendrils of steam rose from their melting grilled cheeses and folded away.

“Don’t tell me you think of me as one of your magic wish friends?” Kaiba said.

“There’s nothing magical about our friendship, no,” Yuugi said, and to his delight Kaiba snorted with amusement. “Now eat, before it gets cold.”

***

They ate, the evening quiet of the kitchen magnifying every fried, crunchy bite. Yuugi had hoisted himself onto the bar stool next to Kaiba, congratulating himself on a well-made grilled cheese. He would’ve made it work even without the expensive knives.

"Don't tell Mokuba," Kaiba said, dabbing at crumbs on his plate with a greasy scrap of bread, "or Atem."

"Don't tell them what?" Yuugi said.

"How you found me. On hour six of staring at a wall.”

"I won't," Yuugi said.

"They don't need to worry about me. I can take care of myself," Kaiba insisted. 

"You can, but are you?" Yuugi said. 

"Mmh," Kaiba murmured, resting his elbows on the counter and his chin atop his laced hands. “Don’t tell them that, either.”

His eyes rolled sideways, his gaze drifting around the kitchen, through the arched doorway, through the rest of the house, where all the lights were off. Yuugi slid off his stool and selected two pears from the fruit bowl, heavy with ripeness, rinsing them in the sink.

“Did... something happen? Did you get in a fight?” he ventured. “Atem says you’re not answering his calls.”

“No. Nothing like that.”

“Then what?”

The kitchen swelled with silence.

"They left," Kaiba said finally, as Yuugi considered how to cut the pears. A basic wedge cut was too childish. "And I told them to go, enjoy it, make the most of it. They have their own lives to live. Mokuba must've asked me a thousand times if I'd be fine without him if he went to California, and I said yes, go, because I don't need him around. I'm fine. And there's no point in getting angry with someone for leaving if you don't need them in the first place."

The effort must've been massive, Yuugi realized, slicing into the pears, to keep the anger at bay. To dig into the wound and wrench the thing out whole, raw and throbbing, without duels or rubbled islands, and without the help of the people who loved him the most. No wonder he looked so exhausted, so limp; no wonder he was again sinking towards the counter, arms folding, his head dropping like there was a hand on the back of his neck, guiding him down with animal docility. 

“How long have you been feeling like this?” Yuugi said.

“What the hell do you know about it?” Kaiba said, semi-muffled by his elbow. 

“It feels like there’s this dark little pit in yourself that you can’t stop digging,” Yuugi said, “and when it’s deep enough, you’re gonna curl up and bury yourself at the bottom and sleep for a year. Right?”

Kaiba said nothing, heaving another sigh.

“Sit up. Eat this.” Yuugi thunked a plate of pear in front of Kaiba, each slice wafer-thin, almost translucent, dripping with light. Kaiba dutifully pulled himself up and removed several slices of pear, with jenga-like precision, careful not to damage Yuugi’s artful pinwheeling. “Well?”

“I always feel like this,” Kaiba said, a startling confession, all the more terrifying for the blithe, dismissive tone with which he confessed it. “So what if it’s a little worse than normal? I’ll find my way out of it.” 

Yuugi leaned over the counter, hands clasped atop it, business-like. 

“I have no doubt in your ability to get out of this,” he said. “But I don’t think you should do it alone. See, I don’t want you to leave, either.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yeah?” Yuugi said. “I challenge you to a duel. My deck’s in my backpack. I have some new strategies I’m dying to test, and you’re the only one who makes me really fight for it. How about it? Wanna duel?”

Kaiba exhaled, resting his elbow on the counter, his cheek against the back of his hand. He plucked out another pear slice, not eating it; instead just letting it dangle from his fingertips, watching a tiny pearl of water roll off the edge and break apart on the plate with monumental indifference. 

Watching him, Yuugi allowed himself a brief, private moment of grief, for Kaiba, knowing he wouldn’t want it, and he’d be insulted if he knew. To have your heart broken by what you love was one thing; to swing from love to hate was another; but to stand still and feel your love go, leaving nothing in the hollow it left behind, was the worst.

With a light flick, Kaiba released the slice of pear, his gaze drifting again. 

“No. I’m tired of fighting,” he said sullenly, so dull a sound that Yuugi sucked in a breath, two dueling thoughts colliding with concussive impact in his chest. Good, stop fighting, why don’t you finally get some rest, and the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him and shout no! keep fighting! I know you’re in there! 

Kaiba lifted his head, looking at Yuugi with an air of steeling himself. “Okay. What... what do you want from me?”

Yuugi almost laughed, but caught himself. No good things came from laughing in Kaiba’s face. 

“Other way around,” he said, drawing a circle in the air with his finger. “This is about what you want from me. Whatever you need. Whatever you want.”

Kaiba frowned, thinking.

“Do you seriously believe the magic of the Millennium Puzzle helped you make friends?” he said.

"Um. Well, it was more like a domino effect, you know? A chaos theory, butterfly hurricane kind of thing - “

“Magic had nothing to do with it. It was all you,” Kaiba said, with more heat and passion than he’d shown in weeks. “But you have to understand I’ll never be your ‘bro’ - ” couching the word in air quotes, a disdainful pair of twin finger twitches - “and I’m not one of your little pals, like Jounouchi, or whatever. That’s not who I am. That’s not how I do it.” 

“I know,” Yuugi said. “Listen - ”

“I don’t - ” Kaiba huffed and scowled at the counter, at his blurred, misty reflection. “I prefer to handle things on my own. I always have. I don’t - know how - ”

“Kaiba.” 

Kaiba looked up, shoulders stiffening, his face tight and stricken. 

“I know,” Yuugi said. He let that hang between them until Kaiba’s shoulders had eased out of their anxious coils. “Don’t worry. I’m not adding you to the group chat or anything. I don’t expect anything from you except the occasional bitchy comment, and maybe a good, boisterous laugh, from way deep down in your chest, like when you draw Blue-eyes in a duel. You know, the ‘I got you now, fucker’ laugh.”

Kaiba laughed - a laugh at half-power, lacking his usual trumpet blare of triumph, but a laugh nonetheless. “You are an oddball.”

“Birds of a feather,” Yuugi said smugly, and checked his phone. It was getting late. “Okay. I think I’ve bothered you enough for the night - ”

“You’re not bothering me. Are you taking the train back into the city?”

“Yeah.” 

“What line?”

“Red line,” Yuugi said, and was struck by an idea. "Why? Somewhere you wanna go?"

"I'm in the mood to get out of the house for a while," Kaiba said. "It's too fucking quiet in here without Mokuba."

Yuugi fixed him with a look. "Yeah, so one of the interns was telling me about a new arcade that just opened off the Ishibashi station. I was gonna go after work with the guys to check it out some time, but..."

He didn't even need to finish the thought. Despite his best effort to hide it, something hopeful had bloomed across Kaiba's face, rich and warm. It made Yuugi ache to see that look, and to wonder what he would've wished for at fifteen, freshly cast from the forge and still hard and brittle and white-hot with rage, burning everyone who touched him.

"Get your coat, let's go," Yuugi said, and Kaiba almost sprang off his bar stool. "Wait - finish the pear. I cut it fancy for you and everything."

Kaiba rapidly ate the pear. "The grilled cheese was excellent, by the way."

"Really?"

"Yes. If you come back and make me another, I'll make all the bitchy comments you want."

Yuugi laughed. "Deal."

***

ATEM did you talk to him? 

Yuugi leaned against the polished wooden edge of the pool table, his thoughts whirling in his head lazy and kaleidoscopic. He was halfway through his third beer. They'd gone through air hockey. The racing games. The shooting games. Foosball. Kaiba had spent fifteen minutes at the claw machine, winning a plush Kuriboh for a middle schooler and pressing it into her hands with a firm explanation of how the machines were rigged against her. 

Then they'd found the pool tables, in a dim little corner, the green felts shining like tropical islands in a shadowy red-brown sea under the hanging lights. Yuugi was still smarting from the whipping, which Kaiba had delivered with almost careless ease, drink in hand. 

"Yuugi. Look," he said, leaning over the table, aiming the pool cue at some bizarre constellation of pool balls, his long shadow falling across the felt. 

"Give me a sec," Yuugi said, and swiftly rescued Kaiba's sweating old-fashioned from the edge of the table.

YUUGI ya. now he's showing off

YUUGI trick shots at the pool table

ATEM so he's fine?

"You're not looking," Kaiba said, lifting his head. "Look."

"I'm looking," Yuugi said.

The cue moved smoothly between Kaiba's fingertips as he aligned his shot - sleek, frictionless, silent - with a quick, sharp thrust he sent the pool balls smashing into each other, cracking like lightning across the table and vanishing into the pockets. The last ball rolled towards the last pocket with slow, melodramatic flair, teetering over the lip, like it knew exactly who had struck it, and what kind of show it needed to put on. 

It dropped in, clattering into its fellows at the bottom of the pocket.

Kaiba laughed, triumphant, glowing with youthful glory, catching the victory by his hip with a yank of his fist.

YUUGI he will be

"Did you see?" Kaiba said, turning to Yuugi. The lines under his eyes were still there; the seams that held him together, pulling apart. Those would take some time to repair.

But for the moment he was radiating with energy, beaming, star-like in the dim electric gloom of the arcade. Not hidden in the blackness of space, but brighter for it. Despite it.

"I saw," Yuugi said.

[serendipityunho]

Cuts & Curses (M) ~ Part One

!! DO NOT REPOST MY WRITINGS !!

❀ Genre: smut, college au ❀ Pairing: boxer!Jongho x Reader (fem.) ❀ Word Count: 4.3k ❀ Warnings: depictions of violence, small injuries, explicit language, fingering, handjob, shower sex, clit play, breast play, semi-public sex, mild dirty talk, thigh riding, mature sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, pull out method

❀ Synopsis: Jongho may have been an out-of-nowhere-shoulder to cry on but he definitely proved he could be more than that when you found yourself taking your throne on his thighs.

→ PART TWO

a/n: i’ve always wanted to write a boxer!jongho smut and here it is. i will admit that i am very proud of this one and i actually love it so much and i hope you guys will too x

“You should see me in the ring tonight” You were met with a pair of brown eyes when you snapped your head up.

Jongho stood in front of you, looking down as he slips you a slim piece of paper, presumably an address of some sort. You let your pen fall onto your book as you eye the piece of paper on your table.

“Give me one reason why I should go” You cross your arms, leaning forward against your table as you stare back at the boy.

“Jungkook will be there” Jongho smirks, hands now planted on your table, leaning down to your level.

“I don’t see how that’s a valid reason for me to go” Your brows furrowed in response to Jongho.

“Don’t you want to see your ex get beaten to a pulp?” He wasn’t wrong with that. 

There was one thing you hated more than Jungkook himself, it was Jungkook walking around with his cocky smile, baiting girls in just to play with their heart like another one of his sports. Unfortunately, you were his first victim since he entered the school.

You were a fool to believe he had loved you, and an even bigger fool to fall in love with him. Since then, you’ve tried to avoid him, but he always found a way to have you find yourself standing in front of him once again, falling for his senseless sweet talk that would unsurprisingly lead you through an event of another heart-aching encounter. 

“How do I know it won’t be you getting beaten to a pulp?” You’ve seen the swoon-worthy biceps of both boys, needless to say, you’ve seen them in action before, not against each other though. Tonight would be the first time, also another convincing imagery to have you show up.

“Jungkook may be older but I’ve been in this shit longer than he has. I know things he doesn’t. Don’t question my abilities” Jongho’s lips carve into a small smirk as he tilts his head to the side.

“Alright, fine. I’ll be there” You shut close your book and packed away your belongings into your bag as Jongho leans back up, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I’m looking forward to seeing you then” Jongho takes off with a wink, leaving you to read the slip of paper once again before making your own way out of the library.

It wasn’t every day you spoke you Choi Jongho, he was simply a boy with the same objectives who, conveniently, happens to be your lab partner too. The two of you didn’t get off on the right foot, his rival being your boyfriend of course. 

But that all changed when the entire school’s phones had a copy of Jungkook in bed with a girl who was not you. Since then, Jongho’s been nothing but a near friend once he’s realized how heart-broken you were. 

The two of you settled aside your differences and turned them into kindred traits, a vendetta against his arch-nemesis and your ex-boyfriend. Which got to where you are now, attending an illegal underground boxing match just to watch the face you fell for getting beaten in a way you dreamed of imagining.

It seemed like an endless passageway filled with nothing but darkness and cold air, leading you to a parade growing louder and louder with chants. The sound of your sharp breaths echoed off the concrete walls, soft platter of water as your feet hit the damp floor with each step bringing you closer to the violent event.

“... Jongho! Jongho! Jongho!...” 

It would be generic to say you had seen the light at the end of the tunnel, but that’s exactly what you saw. The lights hanging above the ring dimly lit barely the rest of the room, making its priority the contents inside the ring below it. 

Arms and fists pumped the air as ear-bursting yells bounce off the walls. It was filled with raging energy as you watch from the isolated corner occupied with very few bystanders. From here you could see the leveled ring, two large figures preying each other dead in the eye, swinging blows left and right. 

“... Jungkook! Jungkook! Jungkook!...”

There he was, wearing that cocky smile of his, the same cocky smile that got you and who knows how many other girls on their knees. It was the smile you wanted to see get knocked off, literally. 

“Place your bet or get out” Your thoughts were interrupted by a deep voice beside you. 

A large bald man towers over you as you turn around to face his cold-emotionless face. Behind him were smaller men immersed in the stacks of crimpled cash, slipping back and forth between their hands as they count them. 

“A hundred and fifty bucks on Choi” You wipe out the bundled cash from the pocket of your leather jacket, carefully taking out the amount from its elastic hold for placing it in the hands of the bald man.

It was a difficult attempt, pushing past all the sticky bodies to gain a better closer view at the front rather than squinting in the corner you were just in. Your eyes slightly stung at the sudden brightness at the front of the ring, but now you could see clearer. 

Pure concentration was evident on Jongho’s face as his brows furrow deeply, eyes piercing through his opponent. It was the sudden hard blow to his face that made you wince back, hissing even though you weren’t the one socked. 

Jongho stumbled back a bit before quickly throwing a right arm, knocking Jungkook’s head to the side before throwing more consecutive punches to his body, pushing him back against the ropes of the ring. It was then you realized how feral this semi-quiet boy was. It was quite shocking to see the other side of these two boys on a night like this in a ring painted with their blood punched out of their faces.

“... finish him!...” 

Jongho’s eyes remain piercing, that was until he conveniently spotted you below, watching him. It was that split eye contact that costed him, Jungkook took the advantage to throw a hard blow right to his face, making Jongho stumble back, falling onto his side as Jungkook pounces on him, throwing hard left and rights onto his cowering body before getting pulled off by the ref. 

“And the winner is Jeon ‘Buckshot’ Jungkook!” 

There was also another thing you hated more than his cocky smile, it was his cocky smirk. Jungkook happens to also conveniently spot you by the ringside, glaring at him with a clenched jaw, making him throw a snarky wink as his arm held high for victory. 

“Fucking prick” You mutter under your breath before turning your attention to Jongho, slipping under the rope being thrown displeasing words from the crowd for butchering it the last minute. 

Series of chants boomed through your ear as you brush past the bodies, easier than before as they pile into the dark tunnel you entered from. You were left with a few people in the now empty room, most of them you recognized from the isolated corner and the cash handlers by the table. 

“...Here’s the betted cash, take it and leave...” The men hands over a locked box, probably filled with cash, over to the other group of men. There you saw him, Jungkook dabbing his sweat with his towel.

“Oh, so you came just to see me win? Can’t get enough of me, can you?” Jungkook strides closer to you after locking eyes. 

“Fuck you”

“Already did, sweetheart” Jungkook shot a wink before dipping into the dark tunnel followed by the other group of men.

You didn’t know your anger had turned to pain until you felt your palm stinging, looking down you could see your nails carving crescent shapes into your palm from your tight fists. 

“Hey” Your head snapped back to the front, where Jongho was standing with a towel hung across the back of his neck.

“You owe me a hundred and fifty dollars, loser” You cross your arms over your chest, mentally scolding him in your head for losing your money.

“Well, I didn’t think you’d actually come” Jongho forces a quiet chuckle before scratching his head.

“I did, and you lost. What happened to ‘don’t question my abilities’?” You mocked him from before, gently waving your hands in the air for emphasis.

“Just because I lost this round doesn’t mean you should still question my abilities” Jongho turns around, walking away to another room.

You couldn’t help but follow him quickly behind, seeing the cuts on his face struck worry in you. Following Jongho, you found yourself entering a brighter lit room, a locker room. 

Jongho sat on the bench, unwrapping the bandages from his knuckles. You close the door behind you and step forward, leg on either side of the bench next to him.

“You need to treat that, you know?” You point to the small gash fixated at the top of his eye.

“I’ll be fine” Jongho continued to unwrap the bandages as you scanned his face. His tan really accentuated under the coat of sweat and blood, face now relaxed compared to before.

“It could get infected. Those are worse than the actual cut itself” Jongho stopped, dropping his hands on the bench before looking up at you.

“Can you get the first-aid? It’s in there” Jongho points to the mirrored cabinet above the sink.

“Not even a ‘please’?” You tease slightly, pushing yourself off the bench to the sink.

“Please” 

You chuckle, opening the cabinet to take out the kit before making your way back onto the bench. Jongho was now seated the same way you were before, legs either side of the bench and bandages were now thrown on the floor. 

“Thank you-”

“I’ll do it” You interrupt Jongho and sit down in front of him, opening it to a bunch of medical supplies.

You grimace at the gash above his eye after looking at it closely, pulling a disinfectant swab to wipe away the blood around it. Jongho hisses before pulling his face back, throwing you a hurtful look.

“I didn’t even touch you yet, Jongho, don’t be a baby”

“Just- Just hurry up” Jongho leans back down again, letting you attempt to treat his wound. 

It was quite difficult attempting to tend to his gash, leaning forward as you try to keep your balance but also being gentle. Jongho must’ve noticed your frustration before swatting your hand away.

“Stand up-” 

You were barely standing before Jongho grabs you by the hips, sliding himself forward on the bench and pulling you down on his thigh. You let out a surprised gasp at the sudden action. 

“Um- thanks” You focus on the cut once again, successfully treating it before hesitantly bringing your other hand up, grabbing Jongho’s face gently to turn it around.

You didn’t realize how close your faces were to each other until he turned around and looked you in the eye, making your breath hitch at the back of your throat. With how close your bodies were, practically leaning on him, Jongho could probably hear the thumping of your heart in your chest, threatening to explode. 

You could feel Jongho’s intense stare on your face as you focus on the cut on his lip. Your hands shake as you bring them up to cup his face and the other cleaning his cut lip. 

“Are you nervous?” Your gaze snaps back up to Jongho, who was staring at you with soft eyes, hooded but soft. 

“What’s there to be nervous about?” You were suddenly quiet, almost whispering. Even your breathing was louder than your voice.

“I don’t know. You just seem nervous”

“Well, I’m not”

“It’s him, isn’t it? You’re still not over him-” 

“I don’t want to talk about him-”

“It’s odd to find yourself sitting on my thigh, right? So close to my face, it reminds you of him doesn’t it?-” 

By now, you have absolutely no ideal responses to bark back. Jongho didn’t remind you of Jungkook, he reminded you of the sinful things Jungkook did with you sitting on his thighs. 

“- I can show you I’m different... better” 

Jongho’s voice was equally quiet as yours, the gap between your faces unnoticeably grew smaller with each passing second. His arm wraps around your back, pushing you forward.

Your lips plant against his, eyes shut close as you drop the things in your hand to the floor, lips moving in sync with Jongho’s as you wrap your arms around his neck, pushing off the towel that was there.

All thoughts left your head, the vendetta, everything. All you could think about now was the words that left Jongho’s mouth a minute ago replaying in your head, how he could be better than Jungkook, and you were starting to believe it despite the reasoning. 

Your chest pressed against his as you feel him nip against your bottom lip, slipping his tongue in as the two of you wrestle for dominance. You could feel his hands move to your waist, squeezing you gently before pushing your hips back and forth, creating a friction between your crotch and his thigh. 

A small moan slips from your lips in the kiss, you were too immersed with his lips to care or feel embarrassed. One of your hands slides down his naked chest, tracing the outline of his pecks with your fingers before tracing down his abdomen to his lower region.

You can feel your wetness spreading with each time Jongho helped you roll your hips against his thigh, making you grow needier and needier by the second. By now, you were confident enough to move them on your own, taking Jongho’s hands and guiding them down to your ass.

Jongho firmly grasps your ass, squeezing it as he spreads your cheeks apart, still pushing you back and forth against this thigh. Your wetness probably soaked through your shorts by now, staining Jongho’s. 

You take your hand, squeezing Jongho’s other thigh before moving back over to his crotch, feeling his boner before sliding your hand under the waistband of his shorts, palming him over his boxers. 

Your clit was throbbing under the material of your shorts and panties, making you aggressively kiss Jongho as you roll your hips faster. Jongho breaks from the kiss, pecking your lips before instantly attacking your neck, sending your head falling back to let him cover more of your neck.

A breathy moan falls from your lips as Jongho sucks on your sweet spot, making you squeeze his clothed dick. His hands slip under your shirt, quickly throwing it above your head, letting your jacket fall to the floor before attaching his lips onto your chest, kissing the top of your breasts as he fondles with the clip of your bra. 

“Please tell me you know how to take it off”

“Remember what I said, don’t question my abilities” And with that, you could feel your bra unclasp, strap dropping down to your arm as your breasts become free and naked in front of him. 

Jongho kisses the valley of your breasts before taking one in his mouth and playing with the other in his hands, nipple slipping between his fingers as he fondles. 

Your lips were now parted, mouth dry as the friction between your clothed pussy and Jongho’s thigh increases. Jongho took the opportunity to lift you up slightly, fingers hooking under the waistband of your shorts and panties before pulling them down, exposing your gushing pussy to the cold air.

Jongho stands and wraps an arm around you before pushing you against the locker, slamming his lips back against yours as he lets your bottoms drop to the floor, leaving you naked against the locker. You could feel his hard dick rubbing against your leg, letting you take the opportunity to take down his shorts and boxers.

The two of you stood naked in the locker room, swallowing each other’s lips as you grab his dick and start pumping him with the small coat of precum you smeared all over his length. 

“Mnngh- faster” Jongho groans against the kiss, bucking his hips up to meet with your quickening pumps. 

Jongho squeezes your ass before trailing a hand to the front, cupping your wet pussy before rubbing your clit with his fingers, making you moan into the kiss. You could feel your pool of wetness coat your inner thigh as you rub them together under Jongho’s touch.

“Fuck so wet” Jongho circles his fingers over your clit a few more times before pushing your legs apart, slipping his fingers between your legs and coating them with your juices. 

You let out a breathy moan as inserts his fingers into you, pumping them in sync with your hand movements on his dick. You give him light pecks on the corner of his lips before kissing down his neck, sucking on the spot behind his ear before resting your head back on the cold locker your back was pressed against. 

“More, please-” You begged with furrowed brows, eyeing Jongho’s replicate expression.

Jongho slips his fingers out of you and cups the back of your thighs, hoisting you up to wrap your legs around his waist, letting the tip of his throbbing cock poke at your pussy. Jongho wraps his arms around your back, pulling you down to kiss him as he walks away from the lockers.

You were too immersed by your own lust to feel him push you against another cold surface, slightly wet. Then you realized it was a shower the moment you heard the squeak of a knob, cold water turning warm as it hits your naked bodies, making the warmth between the two of you grow.

Jongho grasps your ass, slowly sinking you down on his dick, making you break from the kiss again, letting out a breath of air as his girthy length stretches out your hole. Your face scrunches in pleasure as he bucks his hips up, bouncing you up against the shower wall and thrusting himself into you.

“Ohh fuck- ohmygod” Jongho bounces you faster, hands firmly planted on your ass to lift you as he knocks the air out of your lungs every time you come down on his dick.

You push back the wet hair stuck on his face, exposing his forehead as you tangle your fingers through his hair. Your breasts bounce with your body as your legs threaten to become undone around his waist. 

“Mmnnghhh- fuck you’re so tight” Jongho groans against your neck, kissing it before moving back to your lips, water slipping into your mouths as Jongho wrestles with your tongue. 

“Fuck- Jonghonnnghhaa” The squelching sounds grew louder as the sound of his thrusts echoes through the lockerroom. 

You grip on to Jongho’s shoulders, feeling every flexed muscle as he holds you up, squeezing his biceps as you release uncontrollable moans into his ear. They grew louder and louder as Jongho deepens his thrusts, sending you bouncing higher than before and sinking down deeper onto his dick. 

Jongho grips your waist, lifting you off his dick and onto your feet before spinning you around, pressing your body against the cold wall, moving your face out of the shower of water. Your hips push back, rubbing your ass against his dick, feeling the tip already in your hole. 

“See how much better I can be than him?” Jongho growls against your ear, pushing his dick into you with a hard thrust, squeezing your breasts on to the wall. 

“So much better- fuck sososo much better” Your head turns to the side, meeting with his before barely kissing him as he starts thrusting fast again.

“How many times has he made you cum in one night hm?” Jongho was breathing heavily against your ear, gripping your waist tightly as he slaps his hips into you.

“Mhmph fuck I don’t know- ah fuck Jongho!” You bite down on your lip, head falling back onto Jongho’s shoulder as he pounds into you from behind, the skin of his torso slapping against your ass each time. 

“Tell me- oh fuck” 

“Ohmygod nnghha- two! Two!” 

“Pathetic. I’ll make it three” Jongho pushes your legs apart with his hand, fingers finding their way back on to your clit.

“Jongho fuckkk-” Jongho circles his fingers over your clit, rubbing your bud of nerves as he quickens his thrusts into you, making you gasp for more air each time.

At this pace, you were so close to cumming around his dick. Your eyes shut close, letting sprinkles of water hit your scrunched up face as Jongho breathes against your ear, letting you hear his deep low grunts coming with each thrust. 

“Are you close? Hm? Cum for me” Jongho grunts through gritted teeth, hardening this thrusts as he rubs your clit faster.

The overwhelming pleasure causes you to release high-pitched moans, mouth gaping wide. You could feel it coming, the built-up euphoria edging to be released through your entire body with each thrust. 

“Oh fuckfuckfucknnnghh ohmygod Jongho!” Your walls clench around Jongho’s dick, breathing becoming heavier as your hips start to twitch and the knot in the pit of your stomach snaps, making you convulse underneath Jongho’s body, hips pushed back and hands flung up around Jongho’s head, gripping his wet hair as pure bliss washes over your body. 

Jongho grunts loudly, fucking out your high with deep thrusts as his fingers still rub at your clit, bringing you close to another orgasm from the stimulation. His thrusts slow down as he focuses on your clit, rubbing it fast with his fingers flat against it. 

Your forehead rests against the wall as you breathe heavily with water dripping down your chin, watching the way Jongho’s fingers rub against your clit. You could feel another orgasm coming, making you grip Jongho’s free hand, pulling it up to your breasts as you squeeze his forearms, feeling his flexed muscles. 

“Oh my god- pleasepleaseplease” Your knees bent, body threatening to collapse on the second orgasm only to be pushed back up again by Jongho’s fingers on your clit.

Your eyes roll back, clenching your jaw as you feel another wave of pleasure wash over your entire body. Broken high-pitched moans escape your lips, thighs trembling and closing together as Jongho rubs another orgasm out of you. 

“I promised you a third, didn’t I?” 

Jongho slips out of your hole again, spinning you back to the position you were in the first time, holding you against the wall as his arms wrap around your back with you clung on to him, sinking down on his dick, twitching slightly as you were still sensitive from the first orgasm. 

You were too fucked out to say anything, needing to have Jongho back inside you again. You were on the verge of crying from the overwhelming pleasure, making your moans turn from soft to pleading cries. 

“Ahhh Jongho shitshitshit oh my fucking god- right there nnghh fuckfuck” You bounced on his dick, back sliding up and down against the shower wall.

Your legs started trembling, on the verge to become undone around Jongho’s waist as another orgasm approaches. You cup his face in your hands, bringing it up to kiss you harshly as your face scrunches harder, brows furrowed deeper. 

Jongho helps you reach your third orgasm, thrusting his hips up, deepening himself into you. Sweet moans filled the kiss as you become undone on his dick, arms slung around his neck and body off the wall, pressed hard against Jongho’s chest. 

“Ohmygod, Jongho- fuck!” 

“Jesus Christ- I’m so close” Jongho grunts before pulling himself out, letting you drop to your feet, struggling to stand after your final orgasm. 

Jongho wraps his hand around his dick to pump himself, head falling back as his spurt of cum shoots out, covering your thigh only to be washed away by the water. 

“Ohhhh fuckkkk-” Jongho takes your chin with his free hand, pulling you in for a kiss as he milks the rest of himself out. 

He slowly pumps himself before taking an arm around your waist, holding you close to him as he passionately kisses you before breaking off. Jongho gapes at you with soft eyes, hand still cupping your face. 

The two of you stay like that for a while under the water, gazing into each other’s eyes not knowing what to do or say. That was until you decided to break the ice.

“You’re going to catch a cold” Jongho’s lips carve up into a small smile, letting his hand drop from your face and turning the shower knob, water coming to a complete stop. 

“You’re lucky I have thick towels” You chuckle, throwing a soft punch to his chest before pushing past, stepping out into the locker area with Jongho following you closely behind. 

Jongho wraps a takes out a towel from a locker before throwing it over your shivering body, patting you dry before grabbing another, throwing it over your head and patting it before deciding to cup your face with it, squeezing your cheeks slightly.

“Be mine” Jongho looks at you with sincere eyes, scanning every inch of your face, waiting for a response.

“This isn’t some sort of way to get back at Jungkook, is it?” 

“No, it isn’t” 

“Why?” 

“Because you came tonight. Nobody ever watched me before”

“That doesn’t mean fall in love with me”

“I don’t love you. Yet” 

part two

Copyright © 2020 by serendipityunho All Rights Reserved

[renxamamiya]

Theatre of Mirrors - The Empress Theatre Part 2

This took me a month plus and 20k+ words LMAOOOOOOO. I’m trying a lot of things in this chapters, including writing a fight scene and taking feedback into account.

Special shout out to @rui-the-galax-angel and @digifangirl97 for helping me with this!!!!

Also please check out the fic on AO3 here!

I’ve also added notes on certain things at the bottom of the chapter, so please read them!

“Is that Goro-?”

“He’s alive!?”

Ren and Joker gasped as they both stared at the same monitor, stunned that the brown-haired detective was alive, disbelief in their expression as they mirrored each other: wide eyes, mouth hung agape, exhaling gentle yet purposed breaths. Both Ren and Joker blinked, Ren shifted in his seat to get a better look, Joker leaned on the console table as he looked closer at the projected image in front of them, seeing their Phantom Thieves going through their shared bewilderment. Neither of them made a sound.

“Is he a...?” Ren trailed off after a long silence, turning to ask his shadow who was observing the detective with careful eyes. Joker gently shook his head in response, an amused half-smile slowly appearing on his lips, barely making eye contact with Ren as he continued to stare at the screen in awe. Goro was here. The invitation he sent, the one he thought would be the only one which would fall on deaf ears, instead called his Crow back to him once more. Though he did not dare show it to Ren, he felt elated at the sight of his rival, alive, well, and scowling at his friends.

Yet this small joyous moment of his did not last. He felt himself suddenly getting tired as he spotted Ren’s eyes gleaming with newfound hope at the sight of Goro. Joker hid his sneer as he got up from his leaned position, standing up, gloved hands tucked back into his pockets. He hated that look of optimism in his other’s eyes, wanting to snuff it out right there and then, but he stopped himself. No; his plan would suffice enough to allow him to slowly crush that hope Ren held; and more, he reminded himself. He turned on his heel, walking out of the room. Ren noticed him leave; before he could utter a word his shadow had slammed the door shut to his prison, not bothering to lock the door as darkness all but swallowed him, the sounds of chorused chatter of the cognitive guests the only thing keeping him company.

Joker snapped his fingers as he continued his stride, an audible click echoed the room. Two shadows belonging to his twisted theatre erupted from the floor to join him as he reached for the door leading to the rest of the building pausing only for a moment to converse with the shadows followed obediently.

“Now, remember the script,” he ordered the both, impatience in his tone as he pulled the door open, wind rushing towards him, gently ruffling his messy hair and flapping his tailed coat. He turned to look over his shoulder, a golden eye glinting murderously at them as he wore a serious expression, “This needs to go perfectly. If you fail, I’ll make sure to kill you as painfully as possible, you understand?”

“Yes, boss.” they both replied in unison. Joker’s stern expression melted at their reply, now grinning wildly with anticipation, his heart starting to beat rapidly with a newfound thrill, blossoming into a crescendo, feeling the tips of his fingers beating with anticipation as he found himself drowning from the thumping of his own excitement. He turned to look down the bland hallway before him, eyes narrowing, vision sharp as he inhaled a deep, deep breath. On exhale he promptly stepped forwards, another he broke into a run, focusing only towards him, his vision tunnelling as he heard his lackey’s footsteps behind him.

“It’s showtime!” he thought to himself, laughing out loud with thrill as his performance commenced.

---

"Akechi-senpai, you're alive!"

Goro heard Sumire before he saw her, the redheaded gymnast wrapping her arms around him, pulling him into a sudden, affectionate hug. He squirmed instinctively in her embrace, not used to displays of affection, and not used to ones that involve touch.

“Yoshizawa.” he growled, hoping that his unamused tone would give her the hint he needed to attain freedom from her grip, yet she did not loosen her grip around him, “Get. Off.”

“Oh, sorry,” Sumire mutters as she lets Goro go, hiding her hands behind her back as she looks away from him. Her face flushed slightly red, obviously embarrassed by the impulsive hug she had given him.

“I’m so sorry, Akechi-senpai.” she apologizes, moving her hands to her side as she gave him a formal bow, “I’m so sorry. I was just happy to see you.”

“Yo Akechi, is that really you?” Ryuji inquired, looking at him sceptically as he places his hands casually on his hips, “Or are you just a cognition?”

“I can assure you that I’m no such thing.” Akechi said, closing his eyes as his face contorted to an expression of great offense, “To think of me being here as nothing more than a figment of Amamiya’s cognition...”

“If you’re not cognition, then why are you here?” Ann said, her and Futaba now with the rest of the group, staring at him suspiciously, “Are you trying to kill Ren again?”

“More importantly, if you are indeed alive, then what have you been doing all this time?” Yusuke inquires, stepping towards the former detective, Goro looking at them, unamused.

“I do not have to answer the latter question, nor do I want to.” Goro said, clearly annoyed by Yusuke’s prying question, “As for answering Takamaki’s question: I’m simply here for curiosity’s sake.”

“You mean you have the app as well?” Makoto asks. Goro’s head snaps towards her, his eyes widening in astonishment, “With the strange notification, correct?”

“So, you’ve gotten it too?” Goro queried rhetorically, yet all of them answered with a single nod. He pursed his lips, furrowing his brows in thought as he looked down at the carpeted floor, “It makes sense for you all to be here. But why-”

“Hey, where’s Mona?” Futaba whispered, poking her head from behind the rest of the group as Goro continued to mutter to himself, “I don’t see him anywhere.”

“Mona?” Haru said, perplexed by Futaba’s question, yet a second later she realised that the feline was nowhere within the group, “Wait, has anyone seen Morgana? I thought he was with us?”

“I dunno, I was with Futaba the whole time.” Ann said, looking at both the faux blonde and the fluffy-haired girl, “I mean, I thought he was with you guys. You did go up before us after all.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t see him, he must have run off somewhere.” Ryuji sighed, reflexively kicking the floor in frustration and disappointment, “That cat’s always runnin’ off somewhere. I guess we should find him before he runs into trouble again.”

"I think I saw Morgana-senpai run that way." Sumire said, pointing to where the cognitions were congregating, no doubt to head to the numerous auditoriums that were located within the Palace, "I didn’t see clearly though, he ran by me so fast."

"It's as good of a lead as any," Makoto said, ignoring Ryuji's string of curses towards their missing teammate. She walked a couple of steps, all the other thieves following her casually, but noticed Goro still in contemplative thought, one his hands cupped his chin while another held his phone.

"Akechi, aren't you coming with us?"

Goro looked up, red eyes gazing into her own.

"Me?"

"Yeah, him?" Ryuji asked in earnest, which resulted in him getting elbowed sharply in the chest by Ann, "Hey, what was that for!?"

“You can’t say stuff like that in front of people!” Ann exclaimed, annoyed by Ryuji’s boldness towards Goro, eyebrows crossed in an angry expression, “Besides, we have no idea what’s in this place. I don’t like the idea too, but we have strength in numbers, and we can keep an eye on him if he tries to do something to Ren.”

“Thank you, Takamaki, but I’ll be fine on my own.” Goro said, resisting the urge to grimace at Ryuji and Ann’s words (though he was not surprised in the slightest in the fact that they did not trust him), “I’ve had more than enough experience in combat to take care of myself. That, and we’re obviously not considered as threats. I doubt that whatever’s happening to your leader, will in turn put any of us in immediate danger.”

“Still, it’s still an awful thought for you to get left behind.” Haru said, although she did not sound too eager with the prospect of Goro coming along to find their furry friend, “Even if it’s you...”

“As I said-”

“Please, Goro-senpai?” Sumire pleads, giving Goro the biggest puppy-eyes she could muster as he turned to look at her, her bottom lip quivering, trying to evoke sympathy from within the detective, “Please? We haven’t seen you for a long time, and I know you really want to come with us...”

Goro looks at Sumire, his expression firm and unreadable, his gaze piercing, yet the girl continues to pout. The rest of the group looked at each other, not knowing how to break the tension between the two of them, waiting for either Sumire to succeed in her attempt to convince Goro, or for Goro to win in his efforts to further distance himself from the group.

The victor was decided when Goro broke his gaze, sighing deeply in defeat while Sumire smiled and cheered in triumph.

“Thank you, senpai!” Sumire grins, going in for another hug, only to be stopped by Goro’s hesitant scowl.

“I’m doing this only for you, Yoshizawa.” Goro muttered under his breath, though he can’t help but smile a bit when he saw her growth in confidence over the last year and a half. He turned to look at Makoto, “Lead the way, Queen.”

“With pleasure.” Makoto huffed, trying not to get worked up by his use of her codename, seemingly brushing it off as she resumed her pace towards the inner area of the foyer.

It did not take the group long for them to spot Morgana. He stood still as cognitions passed by, some of them muttering happily as they noticed the feline gazing upon something. A few steps more passed the crowd of cognitive people did they find what he was looking at.

“Is that?” Ann gasps, looking upon the fountain statue of Joker. The glint of the gold that accented its mask and buttons and eyes sent a shiver down her spine, its grin, smug and sinister, unsettled her, and she dare not make eye contact with the gaudy decoration. The others shared her uncomfortable reaction, a loss for words as to why such a decoration would be displayed all to see. They knew Ren, knew how he acted, knew the confidence he held in himself, yet did not associate him with the apparent narcissism they were currently gazing upon.

Morgana’s ears twitched, sensing the others as they approached behind him, turning to greet them with a sombre expression as he stood in front of the fountain.

“I think this was where Ren was caught.” Morgana informed the group, yet no one in the group found any comfort with this information, “I saw some commotion around here until I got thrown out by those shadows.”

“Where could they have taken him?” Haru asks, yet she knew Morgana’s answer, “Could he possibly be somewhere deeper in the Palace?”

“He has to be.” Morgana said, turning to look up towards the top of the twin stairwells, “I don’t know how to explain it, but I can feel him somewhere up there, calling for us.”

“Futaba, can you check if that’s the case?” Makoto asks the girl. Futaba snaps back into attention, the fountain statue previously lulling her into a trance. She looks at Makoto with a dazed expression, blinking several times as she tries to grasp what she had said to her.

“Sorry? I didn’t catch that, Queen.” she confesses, Makoto sighs.

“Can you confirm that Ren’s somewhere in his Palace?” Makoto again asks her, though she could not help but send a sympathetic expression towards the girl. The man that had helped her free herself from the shackles of her distortions was now trapped from his own, and admittedly, none of the thieves have yet fully come to terms with the formation of Ren’s Palace.

“Oh yeah, why didn’t I think about that,” Futaba said, abruptly squatting down as she puts her laptop on the carpeted floor. She opened it, her device flicking to life, and started to type rapidly on it, focused on her task, “It’s gonna take a while for me to find him.” she informed the rest of the group, raising her voice slightly to be heard above the chatter of the cognitions around her, “Though I can tap into the Palace to get a look at the place, I can’t exactly pinpoint him with ease without my Persona.”

“That’s alright.” Makoto said, “We can work on finding him once we get a rough idea as to where he’s located.”

“Hey Yusuke, you’ve been really quiet since we’ve entered the Palace.” Haru said, looking at the blue-haired artist with concern "Are you okay?"

"Hm? Oh. I am, thank you for your concern, Haru." Yusuke smiles, "I'm sorry if I caused any worry, I was simply marvelling the architecture of the Palace. It's simply beautiful"

"But isn't that weird? I mean this is Ren's Palace after all." she said with concern, a hand pulling back a strand of her hair as she continued, "I mean, it's nice here but, I don't really see how it could be considered 'beautiful'."

"That's okay, I understand completely that finding an aspect of Ren's distortions 'beautiful' is less than savoury; however, I do marvel at the detailing of the architecture especially. It certainly has a lot of Western influences. Definitely matches his more Western interpretation of a rebel."

"Like the 'Gentlemen Thief' persona huh?" Haru mutters, "That makes sense. After all, Arsene does wear a top hat."

"Precisely." Yusuke said, "Details like that do put a smile on my face."

"Well, I guess you can say-"

The screams of cognitions from the floor above interrupts their conversation, all the thieves snapping their heads to see the guests fleeing from above, down the twin stairs in a desperate panic in order to run from an unseen danger. Blue flames suddenly erupted from each of the members, exposed skin and fabric alike replaced with their iconic thief outfits, another flash across their eyes placed their masks as their forgotten powers and Personas electrified their veins.

“Shit!” Ryuji exclaimed in surprise at the sudden eruption, tightly gripping his mallet, already anticipating a fight. The rest of the thieves sans Goro immediately sprung into a fighting stance, readying their weapons as they grouped together, prepared for whatever was causing the commotion upstairs. The only not in the front lines was Futaba, who was hoisted to safety by her Persona Al Azif, hovering above the group as she prepared to support them.

“It seems we were finally acknowledged,” Goro grumbles, yet he could not help but smirk at the idea of taking down the enemy approaching them. He unsheathed the serrated sword he used while in the Metaverse from his side, feeling the familiar echo of Hereward in his mind as the mask he adorned gleamed slickly in the light, “Finally. I was getting on edge with how   the atmosphere was.”

“Oracle, what are you seeing?” Makoto asked the girl, already springing quite comfortably into the lead role as Futaba typed rapidly across the different screens surrounding her from within her Persona, “Are there any dangerous shadows heading in our way?”

“Two of them. They’re pretty strong, but nothing we can’t handle.” Futaba informs Makoto, still tying away across her screens, her eyes flickering rapidly from one window to another, “They seem to be chasing something. Another shadow. A powerful one at that!”

“Why would they be chasing one of their own?” Yusuke muses as he readies his katana, his gloved hand resting delicately on the decorative hilt, “Unless-”

Two gunshots rang in the air, followed by the screams of the shadows, a blur of black and red suddenly appearing, sliding down rapidly from the polished stair rails while being pursued by two shadow guards, their head turned back as to keep an eye on their pursuers, yet they could see a smirk on their lips. Before the Phantom Thieves could realise who, the shadows were chasing, the figure turned towards them.

The gold and black mask. The red waistcoat. It was Ren’s shadow. He looked just like the fountain statue nestled between the twin stairs of the foyer. He landed in front of them with practised, familiar poise, turning around towards the shadows, gritting his teeth as he readied a knife the thieves found familiar.

“There’s the fugitive!” one of the shadow’s yelled, pointing to the golden-eyed thief as another indistinguishable shadow joined its side, “Help me snag him! The boss’ll have our heads if we keep lettin’ him run free around this place.”

“Ren-”

“Call me Joker, Queen.” he interrupts Makoto, turning back his head to give her a signature wink before turning back towards his assailants, the two shedding their suits to reveal a Dionysus, Titania and Oberon, all ready to attack, “I know you all have questions right now. I’ll explain later, but first you have to help me with taking these guys out.”

Makoto nods at Joker, agreeing with his commands as she readies her mask. The shadows jumped towards Joker, the Dionysus charging with electricity, static climbing across his multicoloured arm.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Morgana shouts, lunging forward towards the shadow as he summons his Persona, “It’s payback time! Diego, Miracle Rush!”

The Persona erupts from behind the cat, a strong, dashing, masked man with a comically tall moustache and long black cape appeared surrounded by blue flames. A single swish of his sword was enough to summon multiple golden boxing gloves supported by springs that aimed at the shadows. They reeled in back, and then suddenly sprang into action, punching the Dionysus square in the jaw and knocking it off its feet, but unfortunately missing the other two shadows in its company.

“Nice shot, Mona.” Ryuji compliments the cat as he rushes forward, assisting the feline with his enemy, readying the large mallet on his side, “But you missed the other two, might want to work on your aim.”

“I’m rusty-!” Morgana squeaks, looking at his friend with an offended expression as Ryuji brought the mallet down on the shadow, sending it straight down onto the floor, “What about you huh, you’re gonna just let the shadow get up?”

“Huh, you got a point.” Ryuji said, and went on to summon his Persona, dramatically gripping his hand onto his metallic mask, “Alright, William! Give this guy a hand. A God’s Hand to be exact!”

As soon as he did so the mask burst dramatically into the same blue flames, licking harmlessly on Ryuji’s face, rising to conjure a figure beside him. His Persona, dressed in a black and white hood, a skeletal face with its eyes behind red goggles rode atop a yacht triumphantly, conjured a fist out of nowhere, propelled by what looked like a rocket, dancing circles above its target’s head before slamming right down on top of it, injuring the shadow further.

“Skull, that was terrible.” Morgana sighs, frowning at his friend’s pun as he readies his cutlass to strike the incapacitated shadow

“Aww don’t be such a moaner, Mona.” Ryuji chuckles, Morgana ignoring the blonde as he strikes the shadow, “I’m just havin’ fun!”

“Skull, I know these shadows are nothing but total squishies, but you still gotta be careful.” Futaba buzzes through their ears, Al Azif hovering away a safe distance from the battlefield, “We can make terrible puns AFTER we’ve dealt with these shadows.”

“Hey, my puns are not-”

He did not see Morgana dodge Dionysus's attack, only hearing the electricity from its Ziodyne attack before it was too late. His head turned at the sound of the wild crackle of electricity heading towards him. His eyes widened as the bolt connected, a section of the bolt diverged and struck the carpeted floor, causing him to be engulfed into a cloud of dust and smoke.

“Skull!” both Futaba and Morgana exclaimed, calling out for their friend in a panic. Morgana summons his Persona, commanding Diego to blow away the cloud of smoke that obstructed their view of Ryuji with a quick Garudyne, only to find him completely unharmed.

“I’m okay!” Ryuji yells out, waving out to them to attract their attention, “Barely even touched me, you on the other hand.” he said as he almost sneered towards Morgana.

“Hey guys, you can fight all you want later, right now you’ve got a shadow to toast.” Futaba hisses at the two, reminding them of their situation as Dionysus charges for another attack, “Another Ziodyne coming towards your six!”

Both Ryuji and Morgana exchange brief sour expressions towards one another, before shifting their focus towards the enemy before them. --- The Oberon thrusts its sword forward towards Joker, the boy sidestepping each time it swipes towards him, golden eyes carefully observing his opponent as another swipe of the shadow’s sword barely misses him. Makoto readies into position, resting her hand on her mask as she instinctively climbs on the Persona that appeared beneath her.

“Agnes, hit it with an Atomic Flare!” she said to her Persona, and Agnes complied, a ball of blue aura appeared in front of the attacking shadow, growing before independently detonating in the shadow’s face. However, the Oberon dodged it with ease, escaping the otherwise effective attack.

“Dammit!” she whispered harshly under her breath as Ann went in to strike the Oberon, uncoiling her whip as she swung it, a sharp ‘thwack’ echoed as she struck the Oberon on the face.

“How dare you strike me!” the shadow hissed, swinging its sword towards her only to be stopped by Joker’s dagger. The weapons clashed. And they clashed again, Joker slowly driving the attacking shadow back as Makoto readies another attack.

“Agnes, Atomic Flare!” Makoto commanded her Persona again, the same blue orb appearing to engulf the Oberon, but the attack yet again missed as the Oberon evaded it.

“Queen, got any ideas to stop this shadow from moving so much?” Ann hisses as she ducks a swipe from Oberon’s sword, “We could really use some help right now!”

“Maybe slowing it down would help?” Joker said out loud before parrying multiple slashes of the shadow’s sword with his gun and knife, “I don’t have any ice skills on me. Maybe we should call over-”

“We don’t need Fox. I have an idea, just follow what I say!” Makoto instructed her teammates, Joker and Ann both nodded at her with acknowledgement as they continued to dodge the wild attacks of the shadow.

“Joker, aim your shots at its wings!” Makoto instructed Joker. He raised his gun and pulled the trigger.

“Panther, get ready to cast Agidyne on the Oberon!” Makoto yells towards Ann, who nodded in acknowledgement, her gloved hand resting on her mask as she readies herself.

A shot from Joker’s gun rang out, and another, and another. two of the three bullets managing to tear through the thin membrane of the shadow’s left wing, the shadow howling in pain. Joker aimed carefully; a single bullet left in the magazine of his gun. He looked down at the sight of his pistol. He aimed at the Oberon, who was hovering in the air, wobbling back and forth in pain from its injury. He squeezed the trigger.

Bang!

The last bullet tore through the shadow’s wing. The Oberon cried in pain as it floated down, its injuries too great to keep itself airborne.

“Now Panther!” Makoto shouted. With a quick shout of her Persona’s name, Ann summons Célestine behind her, the avatar of her heart standing tall, nonchalantly blowing a piece of gum as the overhead light reflects from her glasses.

“Agidyne!” Ann ordered her Persona, and Célestine lifted her hand towards the crippled shadow. Heat gathered beneath it, and before it could react, a tower of fire erupted from the fire, consuming the shadow, leaving it with embers still singeing its skin.

---

“Ella, use Kougaon!” Sumire said to the bride like Persona behind her, Ella responded by summoning a pillar of white light to strike Titania, the shadow grunting in pain as she took the attack. Yusuke followed up with a swipe from his sword, yet the fairy-like shadow managed to dodge him with ease.

“Psiodyne!” Haru shouted, her Persona, Lucy, towered behind her, one hand holding an elegant looking briefcase while another one held its masquerade like glasses in front of where its face would be, summoned forward pink swirling circles with colours accenting them towards the shadow. Titania managed to evade her attack, retaliating with its own spell as it casts Freidyne.

“Noir, watch out!”  Sumire shouted after her, Haru trying her best to escape from the Nuclear-based elemental attack, yet the blue ball persistently followed wherever she went. It was Yusuke who had saved her, pushing her out of the way just as the nuclear ball exploded, taking the brunt of the attack. He grunted audibly, Haru’s eyes widening in alarm.

“Yusuke are you okay?” she asked the artist. Yusuke responded with a smile, standing from his previously hunched position.

“I’m fine,” he reassured her, “the damage I received was less than anticipated.”

“But you still took damage, are you sure you’re-”

“We haven’t the time to worry about injuries!” Goro hissed at the both as he spots the hands of the Titania glow green. He sprints forward, his sword held by his left hand as his right clasps his mask. He cries out wildly for Hereward, and the black, bow-wielding Persona erupted behind him, an arrow pulled back as it readies for Goro’s command.

“Hereward, Laevateinn!” he commanded his Persona, Hereward complying as it lets go of the strung arrow. A sword descended onto the Titania, a lucky strike by Goro as it tumbled down onto the ground, its healing spell interrupted.

“Regroup, everyone!” Futaba instructed the Phantom Thieves, all of them listening to their navigator as they jumped back into a defensive position, their various ranged weapons all pointed towards the downed shadows.

“W-wait!” The Oberon shrieks as the embers on its body continue to injure it, “Please, don’t kill us!”

“Yes, please, we were just following orders!” Titania said, whimpering on the floor, her hands curled on the carpeted floor.

“Yeah right!” Ryuji said, cocking the barrel of his shotgun, aiming his sights towards the wounded fairy, “Orders from who? Certainly not our friend Joker here, you practically attacked him!”

“Well… He-”

“Alright, I’ve had enough of them.” Morgana said, clearly annoyed by the situation as he held his slingshot ready, “Everyone, it’s All-Out Attack time!”

Before the shadows could utter another word all the thieves pounced towards them, weapons out and ready. Each thief took turns slashing at the enemies, a flurry of attacks as the sound of weapons echoed throughout the hall. Joker dealt the last swipe, a clean cut through the three of the shadows, before he flipped backwards, away from them.

A second passed, and soon a black ooze erupted from each of the three shadows before their bodies evaporated into thin air.

Joker scanned the rest of the foyer, readying his weapon as the others put away theirs, his back towards them, senses still alert as adrenaline still flowed through his veins. Al Azif descends slightly down towards the floor before allowing Futaba to gracefully float down to join the rest of her friends before dissipating, blue flames gently caressed her face as her Persona became her mask. They stared at Joker, watching him anticipate yet another attack. No additional shadows came, and he stood up, his shoulders relaxing, and he tucked away his weapons before he turned to face them, golden eyes staring at them. He smiles gently at them.

“Hello, everyone.” he greets.

“Ren… is that-”

“Ren!” Morgana cried out, interrupting Ann as he rushed towards him, arms wide to embrace him with open arms. Before the masked thief could properly react to Morgana, the bipedal feline jumped, and Joker caught him instinctively.

“Ren! Ren, I was soooooo worried!” Morgana said as he hugged Joker, burying his face affectionately in his chest. Joker returned Morgana’s hug, petting the feline with his free hand as Morgana purred audibly, “I’m sorry for interrupting you Lady Ann!” he continued to shout, trying to sound apologetic despite his joyful tone conveying otherwise, “But I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“But isn’t that senpai’s shadow?” Sumire points out, her expression guilty as she feels as though her observation had spoiled the moment between the two, “I’m sorry for being so rude, but we shouldn’t trust him-”

“Yoshizawa’s right.” Goro agrees with her, eyeing Joker carefully beneath the red filters of his mask, “Like it or not this is not the Amamiya you know and love, but an ugly, distorted version of him.”

“Am I really that-” Joker started, reflexively responding to the comment with an air of jest, yet when his shining, golden eyes met Goro’s hauntingly red ones he stopped himself, mouth still open, hanging agape. Silence fell between the two, Goro looking at Joker closely, his face expressionless, eyes narrowed in contemplation and suspicion as Joker looked at him with stunned disbelief.

“Crow, you’re-”

“Alive? Yes, I am.” Goro said, not taking his eyes off the shadow, “And you’re a shadow. Now, tell us where Ren is so we can get on our way, thank you.”

“He’s still Ren, even if he’s his shadow.” Ann huffs, her tone of voice clearly irritated by Goro’s total rejection of Joker, walking up to the shadow’s side, “Besides. Him helping us still means that Ren’s not only here, but his shadow can help us rescue him, right?”

“Yes, you’re right, Panther,” Joker nods, “I’ll be more than happy to help, and please, call me Joker.”

“Why? Do you prefer to be called that? I’m so sorry if I-”

“It’s okay, Panther.” he smiles reassuringly, touched by Ann’s kindness in accommodating his request so readily, “And yes. Though I am his shadow and should share his name, I am more comfortable with using Joker.”

“Note taken, now come here, Joker!” she exclaimed, running to join in with Morgana’s hug, wrapping her arms around his neck in affection, “Even if you’re Ren’s shadow, we’re still so glad to see you!”

“Yeah, we were so worried when we saw you had a Palace,” Ryuji said, walking to rest a comforting hand on Joker’s shoulder, “So it’s good to see you here and well buddy, and we’ll deffo help in stealing your treasure and easing your distorted heart.”

“And I’m glad to see you, Skull.” Joker smiles at his long-time friend, “If there’s anyone who can help me get rid of the distortions of my heart, it’ll be you.”

“I am happy to be here.” Yusuke smiles, walking up to stand next to Joker, the close proximity he stood next to his friend’s shadow enough to ease his heart, “Though it is unfortunate that you… our friend… have a Palace, we are honoured to be here if only to untangle the distortions that have brought this theatre in the first place.”

“And it’s nice to see you too, Fox.” Joker laughed, clearly amused by how flowery Yusuke’s language was.

“Joker!” Futaba yells, running towards him and wrapping her arms around his torso from his side, “Joker you’re okay! You’re really okay!”

“Well, ‘okay’ is putting Joker’s situation quite mildly,” Haru laughs as she joins the thieves in greeting their leader’s doppelganger, “But I have to agree with everyone, seeing you here with us, even if this is your Palace. ”

“Does the idea of me having a Palace really make you uncomfortable, Haru?” Joker asks her, eyebrows knitted as he looks at her with concern, “You can always leave if you’d like, Noir. I won’t judge you; it must be hard considering...”

“Yes, it does.” Haru answers for him, yet the spark of resolve she had in her eyes did not flicker as she looked in his golden ones, “But I promised only the others, but also myself, to be strong for you, and to help you in any way I can in getting rid of your distortions.”

Joker smiled at her, touched by her kind words.

“Thank you, Noir, I’ll be counting on you then.”

“She’s not the only one you can count on.” Makoto said, as she walked towards him, “I don’t think it’s far-fetched to assume that all of us here are more than willing to lend you their assistance should you need it, Joker. We are here to help heal your distorted heart, after all.”

“But what if I just want a kiss from my advisor.” Joker cooed at her. A blush slightly reddened Makoto’s face as she coughed, tucking a stray hair behind her ear as she cleared her throat.

“I’m sure, I can accommodate that request of yours,” she said confidently, yet the blush on her cheeks grew a deeper red. She leaned in, gently caressing his free shoulder, and gave him a peck on the cheek, Joker grinning delightfully as his golden eyes twinkled brightly with joy.

“A peck on the cheek is all I get?” he said, mockingly pouting at her, “But I thought you were here to ease my distorted heart.”

“We can kiss more when we steal your treasure; besides, the others are...” Makoto trails off, the mention of the other thieves reddens her face more in embarrassment, Joker giving her a toothy smile, only deepening the flush on her face.

“Okay, if you insist, my Queen. I’ll hold you to that promise.”

Someone audibly clears their throat. Joker looks past the group of friends that surrounded him to see Sumire standing in the middle of the foyer, her body tense, her legs straight, the girl grabbing her arms as she looks down on the floor with a saddened expression. He lightly shook his shoulders, his friends stepped away from him, Joker put down Morgana, and he walked towards her.

He stopped in front of her, not speaking a word, looking at her sympathetically yet allowed Sumire to converse with him when she was willing to.

“I’m sorry, for doubting you, Senpai.” she apologised, stepping back from her previous spot as she gave him a formal bow.

“Violet, you have nothing to be sorry about.” Joker smiles at her, slightly amused by her formality towards him, “In all honesty, you all have the excuse of being wary of me. Most of the shadows we’ve encountered were pretty hostile after all.”

“Like mine.” Futaba mutters to herself.

“But there are kind shadows, right? Shadows who just want help from us to steal their treasure, to return to normal. They exist, do they?”

“Yes.” Joker laughs, and Sumire couldn’t help but smile herself.

“Then…” she trails off, before throwing herself towards Joker, arms wide, Joker catching her with ease as she hugged him with all her strength.

“Violet, you’re hurting me.” Joker wheezed as Sumire squeezed her arms around him, and Sumire freed him from her embrace, apologising profusely.

“Oh, by the way,” Futaba said to the group, “While you guys were fighting, I picked up a signal that’s unusual to what you normally find in the Metaverse. I think it’s Ren.”

“You found where Ren’s being held?” Haru inquired the navigator, Futaba, shaking her head.

“Probably.” Futaba said, a frown on her face, pulling out a general map of the Palace to the rest of the group, a green blip pulsating on what looked to be the top of the cognitive building, “This is the signal that I found. It’s unusual for sure, the signal unlike any shadow or cognition we’ve ever encountered, and certainly not the treasure-”

“Oh right, the treasure!” Ryuji exclaims, interrupting Futaba, who reacted with an annoyed expression. “You got anything about the treasure, Futaba?”

“Remember, codenames, Skull.”  Futaba warned her teammate, “And as for the treasure....”

She trails off. The others stared at her, waiting for her to continue.

“Oracle?” Makoto said, walking slowly towards her, “Oracle, you okay?”

“...Um…”

“There’s no treasure, is there?” Goro interrupted. All the thieves snap their heads to look at him, shock and disbelief on their faces except for Futaba, Joker and Goro, “At least, the treasure has yet not materialised.”

“Wait, no treasure, are you crazy!?” Ann stammered, clearly uncomfortable and confused by this revelation.

“Yeah, every Palace we’ve encountered has a treasure!” Ryuji said hysterically, “What do you mean this Palace ‘doesn’t have a treasure’!?”

“I……. I…...I….”

“...I think we should discuss this somewhere else.” Joker informed the others, stepping in to protect Futaba from the bewildered Phantom Thieves, “I know a safe place. Follow me.”

---

The shadow led his friends up to the above floor via one of the twin stairs, cognitive guests staring at them as they followed Joker up, whispering amongst each other with excitement and curiosity, yet Joker paid them no mind as the rest of the thieves could only try to ignore their presence.

They arrived on the first floor, the foyer one decorated differently compared to the entrance below. Soft lilac replaced the colour red on the carpets and curtains, pristine, white marble replaced where gold would be, shapes of different flora carved in the stone, accented by gold paint which glittered under the bright light from the chandeliers above. There stood four doors around the foyer that lead to what the thieves assumed to be separate auditoriums: two of them closed with golden number plaques next to them; the third one, sealed behind two tall doors, had the words ‘The Empress Theatre’ titled atop of them.

Joker gestured to a large booth, one of many that occupied the room along the walls, a white curtain made of linen used to give the privacy the thieves needed to discuss their plans, hiding them from curious eyes.

“After you.” he said, smiling as he held the curtain open. Futaba was the first one to go in, diving onto the seat before sliding inwards to allow Haru to follow her in. One by one they went into the booth, Morgana having to be picked up by Ann, not tall enough to reach for the seat, and sat on her lap as his head rested just above the small table in front of them.

“I’d rather not.” Goro said, the only still standing other than Joker, crossing his arms as he looked towards the booth with scorn.

“Why not?” Joker asks, tilting his head as he looks at the reluctant detective, “Don’t you trust me, Goro?”

“Do not call me that.” Goro snapped, and Joker flinched visibly, “And to answer your question: I don’t. I don’t trust you at all.”

“Akechi-senpai, it’s okay.” Sumire said, immediately going into Joker’s defence as she pokes her head out from where she was sitting, “He helped us, remember? I’m sure Joker-senpai would never hurt us. I mean… I trust him, and I think everyone does as well, and they have way more experience than I do.”

“Yeah, Akechi,” Ryuji said, also coming to Joker’s defence, “And this is Ren we’re talking about. I mean, sure it’s his shadow but isn’t like the shadow the something true self or something?”

The others nodded in agreement, Goro looking away, a cross expression on his face. There was a small amount of movement that caught the corner of his eye, and he looked up to see Joker himself sliding into the booth to join his friends.

“You can have the end spot if it makes you comfortable.” Joker smiled at Goro, and while he did not want to admit it, he was feeling slightly fatigued from the earlier fight. He took a moment of hesitation, staring at the spot next to Joker, and sighed before he complied with the shadow’s request.

“Now that we’re all here,” Makoto said, her eyes scanning the group as she spoke, “We need to discuss-”

“Can someone please pull the curtain,” Morgana said, an expression of disappointment on his face, “We’re not exactly in a safe room you know, have you guys forgotten everything I’ve taught you!?”

“I can do it if only I wasn’t stuck here.” Yusuke offered, gesturing to both Haru and Ryuji of either side of him. The thieves lightly bickered amongst each other; one person would offer to close the curtain if the other person moved, which would cause the other person to gesture to the person next to them. This cycle, absurd and tedious as it was, repeated until all eyes landed on Goro.

“Hm, you’re asking me to close the curtain?” Goro said, not bothering to hide his unamused expression towards the Phantom Thieves.

“Well Crow, you’re the only one who can actually get out of here.” Futaba points out, gesturing to the column piece that obstructed her path to freedom, “And everyone can’t exactly move out easily as well. You gotta do it bird brain.”

“Bird brain?!” Goro scoffs in both surprise and offence. He growled in anger, trying very hard not to retaliate at the girl sitting across him. He sighed, muttering ‘fine’ as he slid out of his seat, reaching for the curtain and gently pulling it across until it hid the group from view before sitting back down again.

“Okay… so now that’s out of the way, we need to discuss several things that are imperative to ensure this infiltration is successful,” Makoto said, addressing the group around her, “First of, we need to discuss who will lead the infiltration, seeing as Ren isn’t here.”

She turns to look at Joker.

“Can you lead us?” Makoto asks, Joker replies by shaking his head.

“I don’t think that’s appropriate,” he admits, Makoto giving him a confused look, “I’m a shadow. The shadow of Ren. While I do know the ins and outs of the Palace, I fear that if I were to lead you it’ll compromise the mission in some way. In addition, I think it’s best for you guys if you could plan strategies somewhere out of the Metaverse.” “That is true.” Makoto nods, “But if you’re not going to lead us then, who will?”

Joker simply smiles at Makoto. Her eyes widened, the deep blush on her cheeks from earlier flushed her cheeks.

“Y-you want me to lead?!” she stammers, Joker nodding in response, and Makoto swore she would have fainted right there and then.

“Of course.” Joker said, “Everyone trusts you, and you yourself have the necessary leadership skills. There’s no one who I trust more.”

Makoto laughs, Morgana exclaims with a ‘hey!’ at Joker as Ryuji rolls his eyes at what he’s witnessing before him.

“Geeze get a room you guys.” he groaned, yet there was no malice in his tone as Ann and Sumire snicker at his comment.

“If Makoto’s our leader, then it would be appropriate to elect ourselves someone to replace her in the advisory role.” Haru said, “I was thinking about Mona being our advisor since he’s more experienced than all of us when it comes to Metaverse stuff.”

“Well, I am knowledgeable with the Metaverse itself.” Morgana said smugly, crossing his arms as he holds his head out proudly, “And I did teach you all how to be the best thieves possible. Sure, I’ll gladly take on the advisory role.”

Goro rolled his eyes in annoyance, Joker noticed him do so, and he smiled in amusement.

“Great, now that’s out of the way, we need to now discuss our course of action in regard to our infiltration: how we will conduct it, where Ren is, why there is no treasure being detected, and if it does apply, when we need to invoke a change of heart.”

She turned to look at Joker, the shadow nodded in acknowledgement.

“As you all know, Ren’s been kidnapped by the shadows of this place.” Joker said, his gaze cast to everyone except Goro who sat right next to him, “He’s being held in the uppermost auditorium of the Palace: The Fool’s Theatre.”

“The Fool’s Theatre? I don’t like the sound of that.” Ann mumbled under her breath, a look of concern on her face.

“Why is it called the Fool’s Theatre?” Sumire queried Joker, her eyes glittering in perplexity. Joker shrugged; his expression confessed uncertainty.

“I don’t know.” he said, “But what I do know he’s kept there. I honestly think they caught him, thinking they were me. Apparently, I’m a nuisance in my own Palace, which is quite absurd if you think about it.”

“Then we should go there now.” Ryuji said, “You know, bust him out and stuff if it’s just at the top floor, no problem!”

“I’m afraid it’s not that easy.” Joker frowned at the blonde, wincing as he saw Ryuji’s enthusiasm falter a bit, “The doors to the auditorium itself are locked by special keys which are held by what they called the ‘Lead Actors’ that reside in special auditoriums. I would have entered the Fool’s Theatre myself, but it’s the only room which I can't even access.”

“And who are these, ‘Lead Actors’?” Goro asked the shadow, “What do they look like? And where are they located?”

“I… haven’t seen any of them, so I don’t even know what they look like.” Joker confessed to the group hesitantly, “But I’ve heard they reside in the auditoriums like that one-”

He gestures to the Empress Theatre on the floor.

“-and they seem to only open their doors to patrons who meet two special conditions.”

“How do you know this?”

Joker turns to Goro and smiles at him.

“Goro, I’m a thief, sneaking about and eavesdropping is what I do best!” he said. Goro only narrows his eyes slightly in response.

“And what are the two conditions, exactly?” Makoto inquired.

“The first condition-” he started as he turned to Makoto, “-is to watch the performances on each of the floors. For example, I heard that in order to gain permission to even get within the Empress Theatre, you must present a ticket with punch holes showing you’ve watched the two performances located within numbered halls.”

“Well, that’s easy enough,” Ryuji said, leaning back in his seat and crossing his legs, Makoto ignoring them as Joker continued his explanation.

“The second condition is to enter the auditorium with the person who matches the Lead Actor.”

“Matches the lead actor?” Ann said, looking at Joker with confusion, “What does that even mean? And how are we gonna get in if we’ve never seen the actor before?”

“I suggest we concentrate on the theatre watching first,” Morgana said, crossing his arms, easily slipping into the advisory role he’s been assigned. He turned to Joker, “Joker, do you have any idea how to get these tickets to access the halls?”

“Actually, I have them here already,” Joker said, pulling several golden tickets from his sleeve, the slips of admission shimmering beautifully form the light above. He put them down, pushing them towards the middle of the table in order to allow everyone to take their own slip of the key they need to help them unlock their friend’s heart, “I… stole them from the counter, just in case you guys would ever come to...”

His face flinches for a moment, an expression of pain flashed before the rest of the group. He smiled at all of them, yet sadness was still reflected in his golden eyes.

“Never mind, all that matters is that you’re all here.” he smiles, “Oh, and I almost forgot-”

He took a booklet out of his coat.

“-A program that contains the map to the Palace.” he elaborates, “It should tell you everything about the building, and should give you a clue on how to navigate it.”

He placed the program alongside the tickets, Yusuke snatching it up before anyone who could look despite the protest of an annoyed Futaba who hissed him with insults as well as calling him ‘Inari’. Makoto shakes her head, yet the rest of the girls couldn’t help but giggle at Yusuke’s eagerness to examine the peculiar booklet, the boys of the group rolling their eyes at the artist’s eccentricity.

“Well, while Fox has the chance to thoroughly inspect the program you gave us,” Goro sighed as he turned his head to the shadow next to him, “Might as well explain as to why there’s no sign of a treasure.”

“Do you think I’m the reason why there’s no treasure?” Joker asks, and Goro pursed his lips in response.

“Well, it is weird that neither I nor Futaba could detect it.” Morgana piques up, jumping up from Ann's lap and onto the table, “Even when Futaba’s treasure turned out to be her, I could sniff it out easily...”

He trails off his gaze drifting onto the ground, before his head snapped up, his eyes filled with resolve.

“But that doesn’t matter right now!” Morgana said, “Our first goal here is to rescue Ren, treasure or no treasure!”

"Well, if our primary goal is to rescue Ren from the Fool's Theatre, we must do it by the 11th of April," Yusuke said suddenly, closing the program before gently returning it to the centre of the table and grabbed one of the golden tickets for himself.

"The 11th of April, where did you get that date from?" Sumire puzzled, Yusuke turned to look at her.

"It said so in the program." he replied as Futaba took the booklet for herself, "'Join us at the Fool's Theatre for the World Premiere of a performance of a lifetime' it said, and it referred to a special guest appearance; no doubt referring to-"

“Ren-senpai.” Sumire finished his train of thought.

“Well, judging from the map here, it’s gonna be pretty easy.” Futaba said as she flicked through the booklet herself, “There are only nine floors we need to go through, ten if we’re including the Fool’s Theatre.”

“And all we have to do is to just watch some plays, right?” Ryuji said, crossing his legs casually in his seat, “Man, this is gonna be a piece of cake for us. I mean, even if there are shadows who are gonna jump us like with those shadows earlier, taking them out would be easy.”

“Still, I think it would be best to exercise caution.” Haru said, “Speaking of which…”

She turned to Yusuke. He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, Noir?”

“I think you need some healing. I can still see the impact of the previous fight on you.”

“I’m fine, Noir. Really, it is no trouble-”

“No, please, Fox. At least take some-”

“I would rather not-”

“Fox-!”

While the group was too occupied with the bickering members, Joker turned to look at Goro. His eyes gazed soft and longingly at the black figure who looked away from the commotion, instead more content in observing the wandering cognitions as they talked amongst each other.

“Akechi.” Joker said, his voice a whisper, “How did you-”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Goro grumbled back, his back still turned towards the shadow, “I don’t have to explain anything to you. Just know that I am alive.”

“Oh, okay,” Joker mumbled, taken aback by Goro’s dismissive tone, sinking back into silence.

“-There we go, Fox. Are you feeling any better?” Haru said, her words caught the attention of Joker as he turned to look to see a smiling Yusuke.

“Why yes, Noir.” Yusuke smiles, “I feel much better actually, thank you for healing me, although you did not have to.”

“Well, you were stubborn about it, but I’m just glad that your injuries are-”

“If you’re all done fooling around, then I suggest we get this infiltration started.” Goro snapped and interrupted Haru, everyone flinching at Goro’s outburst as he got up from the booth seat, “We haven’t got time to waste. We have a deadline to keep to, remember?”

“Dude we’ve got more than a month.” Ryuji said, “And besides, why are you so eager to get started?”

Goro’s only response was a cold look towards Joker, the shadow stone-faced as red gazed into gold. Without another word, Goro turned on his heel and walked away.

Joker slipped out of his seat to address his friends after Goro’s leaving.

“He’s right.” Joker admits, “You all need to get going. Every second you waste here is a second that Ren… my other… stays trapped in this place with the puppet master that’s holding him in there.”

“Does that mean you’re going to watch the performances as well?” Makoto asked the shadow; Joker shook his head in response.

“Forgot to grab a ticket for myself.” he said, “That, and I was thinking of making myself useful to the team. I can get into places that I doubt you guys even can, so while you see whatever’s going on in those halls, I’ll see whatever I can uncover regarding my other’s psyche.”

“But you’re already useful,” Sumire said.

“Yeah.” Ann agreed, “You already told us how to get into those auditoriums and got the ticket and the map to the Palace for us. You’ve done so much already for us, Joker. Don’t worry about it.”

“...Thanks.” Joker smiled as he watched his friends slowly exit from the booth, “It’s just. You’re doing so much for me already, it’s the least I can do to help you guys.”

“Nah man, you’ve already done so much for us before this.” Ryuji laughed, pulling the shadow into a quick hug, “If anything, this is us repaying you for all you’ve done.”

“I agree with Skull,” Morgana said as he hopped from the table, his own ticket glittering in his paws, “This is our way of returning the favour.”

The other thieves nodded in agreement to Ryuji and Morgana’s words, and Joker’s smile grew larger. He felt loved, their resolve glittered in their eyes.

“Thank you, everyone,” he said, before turning to Makoto.

“Well, I suggest you all go into the Devil Theatre first, the one numbered fifteen.” he informed the temporary leader, his gaze looking sternly at her as he nodded towards the general direction of their goal, “It’s the only one currently available for showing. I’m sure the other hall, numbered seventeen, will open once the performance is done.”

“Thank you, Joker,” Makoto said as she nodded at him.

“You’re welcome, my Queen.”

He watched the rest of the thieves wander towards the auditorium, sans Makoto, who briskly walked towards Goro. He watched as they spoke with each other, Goro standing from the wall he was leaning on, hush words exchanged between the two thieves. Their conversation stops, and both Makoto and Goro wandered towards the entrance where the others stood.

Joker waited, watching silently as his friends all went through the door, he watched as the door closed fully, watched he was alone with the cognitions of his palace. No sign of the door opening again, he waited for a bit, until he assumed, they'd taken their seats. Good.

He looked behind him. At a small black, glistening speck nestled within the dark where even the sharpest eyes could barely detect it. He looked directly at the hidden camera.

And smiled deviously.

  ---

  Makoto was the last one to seat herself within the last row of the small auditorium room, the thieves sitting in the row behind the rest of the cognitive audience, allowing themselves to be hidden among the shadows. The lights that illuminated the sides of the room dimmed into darkness, signalling the audience that the play before them was about to begin. A second passed. Then two, then three. Slight creaks echoed amongst the audience within the room as cognitions shifted impatiently in their seats, the Phantom Thieves on edge as they anxiously waited for the performance to start.

“Is something supposed to-”

A stark shutter interrupted Ryuji’s inquiry, the stage lit with a single spotlight, the cognitions muttering ceasing as their heads snapped to watch the stage.

Stillness sunk within the small space. Then the sounds of steps, before a figure emerged into the light. Black curls of hair characterised the actor before them, his face down, shrouded and obscured to the rest of the audience. Yet the Phantom Thieves knew who it was. It was…

“Ren?” Ann whispered as she turned to Futaba who was sitting next to her, “Is that him?”

“Hmm, doesn’t look to be him,” Futaba said, adjusting her goggles as she took a closer look at the actor on the stage, “Readings seem to be giving off that this Ren is merely a cognition of sorts. A fake.”

“Why would Ren have cognitions of himself?” Yusuke queried Morgana who was seated next to him.

“It may have to do with something related to the particular formation of his Palace,” Morgana explained as he observed the cognitive Ren closely.

The cognitive Ren looked at the audience, his eyes unfocused.

“February was where my end, began.” The cognition started; his tone flat as he began his monologue. He talked about saving a woman from a drunken man while he was walking home, how his parents found out he was sued, how he was shipped off into the city, and how he had to stay in an attic within a coffee shop. The thieves quickly understood that the cognitive version of their leader was recounting his time in Tokyo.

“April the 11th,” the cognitive Ren continued, “I met someone who would become my best friend, I discovered a World where the deepest, darkest desires of men manifest, and it was the day that I finally felt… free.”

“That’s when he awoke to Arsene, right?” Ann whispered to Ryuji, who gave a nod as the cognitive Ren continued his monologue.

“I mean, it makes sense.” Morgana said, “When you guys first tore off your masks you are tearing off the mask you wear around society and the outside world.”

“-And so, every time we summon our Persona’s, we are revealing our inner selves towards the rest of the world?” Haru said, clasping her hands, “That’s really poetic.”

“I suggest you all shut your mouths if you don’t want to get caught.” Goro snaps at them, his voice controlled yet a hint of annoyance towards the conversing thieves. Ryuji looked at him as he was about to snap back towards the traitor, but decided against it, while the other thieves shifted uncomfortably in their seats before turning back their attention to the play before then.

Madarame’s Museum, Makoto’s blackmail, Kaneshiro’s Bank. Futaba’s cry for help in exchange for helping take down Medjed. Meeting Haru. Taking down Okumura. Changing Sae’s heart. The interrogation and Goro’s betrayal. The cognition continued to recount the events of Ren’s year in Tokyo with a monotone voice to his crowd, yet the thieves noticed that memories he even considered ‘positive’ during his time there were few and far in between.

“If these were his memories, then why are there barely any happy ones?” Sumire puzzled out loud towards Makoto, who crossed her arms in thought.

“He might be minimising his happier memories and magnifying his traumatic memories,” she said, watching the cognitive Ren as he continued to monologue to his audience, his voice dull, his expression downcast with shadow.

“Why?”

“I… I don’t know Sumire,” Makoto admitted, turning to her with sorrowful eyes.

“Is it just me, or has the spotlight dimmed a bit?” Haru said, Yusuke giving her a nod of agreement.

“I’ve noticed it too,” he confirmed, his voice solemn, “Is it perhaps something to do with the play itself? The subject matter?”

“Yeah, it makes more sense if that were the case,” Morgana said, “After all, this reflects a part of Ren's psyche. If the stage is dimming, it will be related to whatever this play is about.”

“Another thing, Morgana. If we are required to watch these plays in order to access the main theatres to get the keys to unlock the Fool’s Theatre, is it Ren’s way of communicating his troubled mind to us?”

Before Morgana could answer Yusuke, stunned gasps erupted from the audience. The cat turned his attention towards the stage, only to find the cognitive Ren sinking into darkness, still monologuing, unaware of his current predicament.

Morgana caught the words that came out of the cognitive Ren’s mouth, and he felt unease slowly churn his stomach. The cognitive Ren was talking about his life back in Inaba: the shame his mother and father bore with his false arrest, the shunning and isolation he faced from his classmates, the rumours that seemed to follow him from Shujin. Though the cognition kept the same, blank expression towards the audience, each word he seemed to utter sank him deeper and deeper in his own shadow, swallowing him whole as the audience did nothing but watch the spectacle in bewildered silence.

“What the eff...” Ryuji said, trailing off in horror, turning to Ann with pleading eyes. Yet Ann shook her head in response, knowing that the impulsive member of the group wanted to save the sinking mockery of their friend - something she wanted as well.

“Ann...”

“Skull,” Ann said, careful to use his codename as she spoke, her voice soft and pleading as she gently pulled him down back onto his seat, him following almost instinctively as he sat back down. He too saw her desire to spring into action, to save the cognition as he drowned in his own shadow, dragged into sentient darkness while staring at them with blank eyes; but she knew she could do nothing, as so did the other thieves, and Ryuji tried to swallow the rage he felt as the audience clapped with disappointment at the cognition’s performance.

---

“Are you enjoying the performance so far, my guest?” Joker asked Ren, him smiling gleefully as Ren looked at him with hatred, bound hands curled into fists as his shadow, Joker’s eyes illuminating with pleasure.

“Performance? You call that a performance?” Ren spat, concealing his confusion of his shadow’s plans, and plotted to use Joker’s smugness in order to get even a sliver as to what his shadow had in store, “I’ve seen better performances at kindergarten productions. Even low budget soap operas have more effort than that story excuse for drama.”

“I know what you’re doing, Ren,” Joker said, his expression unchanging, amused to see Ren trying his best to outsmart his own shadow, “It’s cute but, don’t think for a second that it’ll work on me. I know you, and I know you’re trying to slyly trick me into giving away my plans.”

Joker chuckled as Ren’s expression, his other wearing one of annoyance, licking his lips before he continued to taunt him, “I can’t give you a hint. Not yet. It'll ruin the surprise.”

“Surprise?” Ren pondered, raising an eyebrow, and Joker mockingly covered his mouth and gasped.

“Oh, there I go again, running my mouth,” he gasped, before laughing hysterically, clearly amused with himself as he stepped forward towards his bound other, “I must really be careful with what I say. I really mustn't spoil the plot for our grand performance.”

“‘Grand performance’. you mean whatever’s going to happen on the 11th next month, right?”

“You’ve been paying attention.” Joker said, and Ren frowned in response, “But yes. I have a great production for you…for the whole world to witness. It will be the culmination of our desires and dreams, and-”

Joker stopped himself mid-sentence, realising he had gotten ahead of himself, almost making an amateur blunder, and withdrew his hands back into his pockets. Ren could only hiss in disappointment as he anticipated his shadow causing his mistake, playing on Joker’s smug demeanour and using it against him. Instead, the shadow continued to observe him, intense gold shining coldly behind his mask, leaning lazily on the doorframe where he stood.

Something on one of the monitor screens caught Joker’s attention, his eyes focused intensely behind him, as if hypnotised by whatever’s currently playing. Using his strength, Ren swivelled around in his chair to see what Joker was staring at, following his shadow’s gaze to see…

Himself. Crying. Cupping his hands, ash in them, kneeling on the hardwood stage as multiple shadows around him laughed mockingly at him. Two Kodama’s circled his crying copy, giggling as they floated, swirling freely in the air, drowning his sobs as they laughed over him. Ren could see two other shadows that stood behind the curtains, Sraosha looking quietly with its gigantic eye as a Fuu-Ki summoned a gale of wind, his clone trying to shield the ash from the gust, clutching the ash closely to him, yet Ren could see the spotlight illuminating clearly that his treasure was falling swiftly through his fingertips.

“Joker.” Ren said, his voice demanding, angry as he did not understand what the both were watching, “You mentioned scripts, right? What is this supposed to mean? Why are you making me watch… whatever this is!?”

Joker snapped from his trance, blinking his eyes slowly before looking at Ren in acknowledgement. He answered Ren’s question by giving him a grin that made Ren’s blood boil, his knuckles white, rage bubbling in his throat, and Joker couldn’t help but laugh at Ren with utter glee.

“Ren, don’t be upset,” Joker said, walking towards Ren until he loomed over him, the shadow’s shadow cast upon him. He craned down his neck, face inches from Ren’s, his smile full of teeth as his eyes gleamed with such intensity that Ren could not help but wince in intimidation, “After all, we haven’t reached the climax of today’s show, Don’t you want to know what happens? Don’t you?”

“I don’t think I have a choice in the matter.” Ren said, grimacing as Joker’s smile stretched even wider.

“That’s the spirit!” he exclaimed with joy, patting Ren on the head in a congratulatory gesture towards his guest, “After all, I did prepare all of this for you and your friends to enjoy. And enjoy you all shall, ‘ll make sure of that.”

“I still don’t underst-”

“Nononono.” Joker murmured, putting a finger onto Ren’s lips to silence him, shushing each time Ren dared parted his lips, “No more questions. I have to go see the others soon, I can’t miss my cue, you’ll sit tight and watch my performance, won’t you, Ren?”

Ren did not reply. He couldn’t, the steady, defiant look he gave to Joker was the only thing he could do in that situation, and Joker enjoyed how much power he exerted over him.

“Good, good, Ren. I appreciate it,” he said, taking his finger from Ren’s lips, his other keeping silent, maintaining his rebellious expression, up until Joker again closed the door to his prison did Ren allow himself to finally shed a tear.

  ---

  “Damn, that was another bummer, huh.” Ryuji sighed as they exited the other auditorium, his expression dejected as he watched the other thieves emerge from the room alongside him. Each thief wore a similar expression of sadness, coming to terms with what they have witnessed, and the only two who did not seem perturbed as they made their way towards their booth were Morgana and Goro.

“Yeah, both of them sucked,” Ann agreed as she hesitated in following Yusuke within the seat, instead content to just stand over the table as Futaba took her place within the booth, “The audience weren’t all that great either, ‘he’s just being a cry-baby’?! Why would they think that?”

“Same,” Haru sighed, rhythmically tapping her fingers on the polished table in front of her, “It didn’t help that the audience were so rude about it.”

“How can anyone even be ‘bored’ by someone’s misery like that,” Futaba seethed, ignoring her laptop in front of her, her voice cracking as she threatened to cry at any moment, “I know they’re just cognitions, but the idea of even them complaining about Ren’s suffering...”

“...It truly is sadistic, isn’t it?” Yusuke mumbled, hand resting on his chin.

“Remember, whatever is shown in the Palace is a reflection of their ruler’s heart,” Morgana stated, hopping on the table as he addressed the group, “There must be a reason, something in Ren’s psyche that states we have to bear witness to… whatever these plays represent. If we do, it may hold a clue for us to bypass the other plays within this Palace, making our infiltration faster.”

“Mona’s right,” Makoto said, nodding with agreement at the cat’s words, yet the others looked at the both of them with doubt, “Maybe if we ask Joker, he can give us a clue-”

“A clue about what?” a familiar voice purred, and she turned to see Joker standing in front of her, expression neutral, hands in his pockets as he tilted his head in curiosity, “Is it something you need my help with, my Queen?”

“Your entrance was certainly timely,” Goro said, narrowing his eyes as Joker removed his hands from his pockets, allowing them to hang beside him, “Where were you while we were watching those plays? We didn’t see you when the first once ended.”

“I was looking into some things,” Joker answered nonchalantly, absentmindedly waving his hand in the air as he spoke, “Mostly to do with the theatre at the top,”

“Did you find a way to get in?” Makoto asks, in which Joker responded with a frown and the shake of his head.

“No… I’m sorry, Queen,”

“That’s okay,” she reassured him, giving him a reassured smile, “You tried your best, it’s all we can ask for at the moment,”

“Still, how were the plays?” Joker asked, his gaze looking towards the rest of the thieves, “Judging by your expressions, I take it that they weren’t great?”

“No...” Sumire trailed off, expression sullen behind her mask, “They were really depressing, Senpai, it was really hard to watch at times,”

“Oh,” was all Joker had to say to her.

“Yeah,” Haru said, agreeing with Sumire as she adjusted a loose strand of hair that had fallen in front of her face, “It was certainly hard to watch without feeling sad, certainly. Joker, do you know if all the plays are as depressing?”

“I don’t know, they might be, they might not,” Joker admits, “If the plays are too hard to bear, I suggest you come tomorrow and-”

“Nu uh, we’ve come this far already,” Ryuji huffs, uncrossing his legs, “And we aren’t bailing on you, Joker, not until we get… whatever is in there.” he said as he points towards the Empress Theatre.

“Ah, yes,” Joker said, “The Empress Theatre… to get the key right?”

“Speaking of the Empress Theatre,” Makoto remembered, “We still have no clue as to what the second condition is in order to enter it. Will you mind filling us in, Joker?”

“That I can do,” Joker said casually, “But be warned… I don’t exactly understand it myself.”

“Meaning?” Goro challenged, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Joker.

“Well,” Joker started, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to collect his words, “I’ve mentioned earlier that the person going in has to match the Lead Actor, correct?”

“Correct,” Makoto said as she nodded to Joker, “But, what does that actually mean?”

“Well, I suppose it has to do with it resonating within one of you,” he said, “Ren wears many masks, each one representing an aspect in his daily life, a person who he faces every day. If these auditoriums are so important that the Lead Actors reside in them, that much mean that each hall might represent-”

“One of us,” Morgana finishes, and Joker nods.

“He cares a lot about you all.”

“So, those messages we got, and the Metaverse app installing itself back on our phone… are you suggesting the reason why is because of these Lead Actors?” Goro theorized.

“It might be, Goro,” Joker shrugged, “However, when it comes to each of you belonging to which hall, I don’t really know. What I do know is that I can go into any of them besides the Fool’s Theatre; I suggest whoever goes first that I’ll accompany them as well. There’s no telling what can happen in there once the Lead Actor appears, if they’ll appear, of course.”

“If I may ask, Joker, how do we know if we're the appropriate thief to enter them in the first place?"

“That I… I don’t know.”

The thieves pondered for a moment, each of them looking around at themselves and back at the double doors that lead to the Empress Theatre. Silence fell upon them, the chatter of the cognitions echoing in the background.

Then Ryuji stood up from his seat.

“Well, if you guys are okay with it, I’m going first,” he stated, shocking everyone as they all looked at him with baffled expressions.

“Ryuji, how do you know it is you who fits the conditions of the Empress Theatre?” Yusuke queried his teammate and friend, looking at him with questioning eyes.

“Honestly, I don’t,” Ryuji confesses, “But like, I don’t like the idea of us just sittin’ around here while Ren is above our heads enduring god knows what-”

“But it says Empress, Ryuji,” Futaba interjects as she slumps in her seat, “Meaning it’s gotta be one us girls, not you, who goes in there,”

“Hey, Empress’ can be boys, too!” Ryuji exclaims.

“Nu uh,”

“Can too, probably,”

“I’m sure that’s not how it works,”

“Well, I’m sure if Naoto Shirogane is still called the Detective Prince despite being a woman, Ryuji could very well be an Empress of some kind,” Goro remarked, grinning mischievously, amused somewhat by his own joke.

“See, Futaba? Goro’s got a point!” Ryuji smiled, crossing his arms, and Goro dropped his jaw in astonishment.

“Ryuji, you are aware that I’m making fun of you, right?” Goro huffs, and Ryuji looks at him with an expression of shocked betrayal.

“Wait-what?! I thought you were helping me?!” he stammered as some of the thieves could not contain their giggles, and even Joker couldn’t help but smile at Ryuji’s reaction, “Well, I’m gonna take that as a compliment, anyway,” he said, crossing his arms, “At least I’m trying to think of something to help Ren, why you gotta be an ass about it?”

Goro responded by rolling his eyes before he returned to staring at the double doors.

“Um, I’m sorry to interrupt, but may I volunteer myself to enter it with Joker” Haru piped up, raising her hand quite timidly, trying to get the attention of the rest of the thieves.

“Sure, Haru, but is there something wrong? I hope I’m not being too forward with this, but I didn’t expect you to volunteer so readily,” Makoto said.

“It’s okay, Makoto,” Haru smiled, “And as for me volunteering… I don’t really know how to explain it, but...”

She looks directly towards the Empress Theatre’s doors.

“I feel… strangely drawn to it,” Haru confesses, her eyes steadily fixated on the doors, “It’s like… It’s calling me, I think? I’m sorry if it sounds absurd, but-”

“You have nothing to apologise for, Noir”, Ann said, smiling at her friend as she puts a reassuring hand on Haru’s shoulder, “I mean, we’re in the Metaverse, and there’s bound to be some crazy things that occur here.”

“That said, Panther,” Morgana said as he approaches Haru, “It might be because Noir is the only one that’s able to go into the theatre,”

“How can you be so sure, Mona?” Yusuke inquired, resting his hand on his chin in thought.

“I mean, it is calling for her, right?” Morgana explains to Yusuke, “And given what we know of the Lead Actors, there must be a reason why the theatre itself is calling to Noir specifically. Plus, if we were wrong and Noir is not who the Lead Actor is calling to, Joker would be there to safely get her out, right Joker?”

“Yes,” Joker nods, “I’ll be sure to safely escort Noir out if anything happens. You have my word.”

“Oh okay then,” Haru said cheerfully as she got in her seat, the others doing their best to shift around their legs as she clambered out of the booth before giving Morgana a pat on head, “Thank you so much for the speech of confidence, Mona-chan, I appreciate it greatly!”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” Morgana purred as Haru’s hand left his head. He turned to Joker, “Just make sure that whatever happens, both of you get out safe, okay?”

“We will, Mona,” Joker said, nodding as Haru approached his side, “You can count on me, I’m Joker after all,”

The both said their goodbyes to the others, Haru barely eye Goro as she did so, before they both turned towards their destination, Joker jumping ahead to grab one of the doors for Haru, opening it for her.

“After you, Miss Noir,” Joker said, bowing gracefully at her, hand tucked politely in front of him, earning a giggle from his teammate, a sound he was happy to hear from her, grinning playfully himself.

“Thank you, Joker,” she bows back playfully before entering the room, Joker standing up from his bow and following Haru inside, allowing the door to gently close itself, gently thudding shut behind them.

---

The interior of the auditorium was unlike Haru had ever seen, lilac carpeting over white marble trailed on the floor that led to the polished stage before her. Beautiful plush seats, all adorned with small white pillows sat in rows facing forward, all the same matching lilac as the carpet, while flowers of various colours decorated the column that supported the balcony seats above, vines supporting vibrate green leaves snaking neatly around railings, the pleasant floral aroma wafting down alongside small petals that landed beside her feet. She looked up, slow, hazy movement having caught her eye, to see a giant, crystalline chandelier hanging below a moving landscape of soft, painted clouds floating by an idyllic sky.

“It’s… beautiful...” Haru marvelled, her eyes wide with complete awe, the hall completely resonating with her aesthetics as she slowly stumbled forward. Joker watched her take in the sight of the decorations that adorned the room, smiling at how happy she looked as he walked ahead, patiently waiting down in front of the steps that lead up to the stage as she slowly clambered down among the row of seats, “Joker, this place is… it’s amazing!” she gasped giggly, and Joker could not help but chuckle at her excitement.

“Is it?” he asked rhetorically, raising an eyebrow in mock curiosity, yet Haru paid no mind to his playfully sarcastic response as she approached him, giddy with excitement.

“Yes...” she sighed as she looked at him, and Joker could see her flinch as soon as she remembered the task she was here for, “I mean… I…. I-” she stammered, a light shade of blush forming on her cheeks, “I’m sorry, I got carried away there, haha,”

“It’s okay, Noir,” he chuckled, before gesturing her to go up the stairs first, a curt bow as he raised his hand towards them, “After you,”

“Thank you, Joker,” she giggled, climbing up the stairs on the stage, her pumps clicking as she walked on the polished floor. She wandered on it, Joker following behind her with a casual stride, “I suppose we need to find the Lead Actor now, right?”

“I guess-”

The lights shuttered shut, both Haru and Joker jumped in place, both grabbing and readying their weapons as they stood side by side. Nothing happened. There was no movement, only the sound of silence echoed the walls, their own breathing almost deathly silent as the two of them prepared for an enemy to pounce.

Another shutter echoed the still theatre. A single spotlight shined suddenly in the dark. Haru narrowed her eyes in confusion and worry, her grip on her axe tightening, feeling Lucy stir under her mask as she took small, slow steps towards the solitary spotlight. Her ears strained in the silence as she slowly approached the outer rim, yet she saw no shadow slithering in sight.

“Joker?” Haru whispered, turning her head to find the shadow of her friend missing, sweat now gathering under her gloves, gaze flicking anxiously as he tried to spot him. Another sound. Haru turned to see nothing lurking in the audience area.

She felt rough hands grab her shoulders, and she was promptly shoved into the light. She tumbled into the spotlight, shrieking as light consumed her vision, before shifting to dark, and Haru could feel herself falling.

She fell, wind whipping her hair, weapon slipped from her grip as she flailed in nothing, she screamed, pleading for help, yet the shadows responded with nothing.

A sudden “oomph” fell between her lips as she sunk into the shrubbery, the plant miraculously cushioning her from what felt like to be a very steep fall. She groaned, the wind knocked out of her lungs as she impacted the bush, allowing her a moment to gather her strength before pushing herself up.

“W... where am I?” Haru thought out loud as her eyes scanned her surroundings. She found herself to be in some sort of garden, the plants looking sullen and sickly, wilting, starving for sunlight and warmth as they sunk into the stone that decorated the area, the sky black and empty, lacking any features. She got up to her feet, dusting her legs and trousers of dirt as best she could as she continued to look around, marvelling grimly at the state of the garden, yet found it odd that she could see without an obvious light source.

“Hello?” she shouted, her voice echoing, yet she heard no response. She quieted her breaths, listening intently for any sound in the stillness.

A sob. Haru rushed quietly towards it, softly stepping on the dead flowers and leaves as best she could, following a weathered stone path into an alcove next to a dried waterfall, only to see Ren sitting on a dead lotus, surrounded by a ring of anemone, naked and crying. Petals of marigold drifted gently down the golden shaft of light that illuminated him from above, some sticking on his skin, seemingly clinging it to him as the thorns of white roses dug into him, Ren covered in bruises and scabs as they seemed to suck sickly on his blood while narcissus flowers were stuck, rotten in his hair.

“Ren,” she said, reaching out to him in hopes of soothing her crying friend, only to be stung by the thorns that clung to him, and she could see them tightening around his body, pricking fresh new blood as he continued to wail. She panicked, his whines tugging at her heart, Haru desperately trying to reach out for him, calling his name over and over, yet for every word she uttered, his wail of pain and anguish drowned her out.

“Ren, please!” Haru begged, yet Ren barely acknowledged her, still sobbing as the vines strangled him more and more. She panicked, trying to desperately calm Ren while trying not to touch the vines, yet each patch of skin she reached for earned herself another lash from the roses as they rushed to cover Ren, causing him to howl and bleed.

“Ren, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what to do,” she apologised, watching solemnly as Ren continued to cry, barely acknowledging her presence, too absorbed within his despair as marigolds continue to flutter down towards him, earning another gasp as they landed snugly on his flesh. It seemed to her that the only thing that remotely stirred Ren were the flowers that surrounded him.

An idea sprung to mind. Hushing a goodbye, Haru retreated from the alcove back into the wider garden, a goal that kept her steadfast as she trudged among the floral graveyard. Her eyes swept across sickly green and brown until-

She spotted a single, small daffodil sprouting amongst dead branches, yellow barely shining amongst brown, its petals poking out just enough for Haru to see. She approached the flower, gently pushing the branches away before she carefully reached for the flower and plucked it from the ground.

“Hello, little friend,” she said as she gently held the daffodil in her hand, its petals shining in the omnipresent light. She stood up from her crouching position, the flower in her hand, and continued to patrol the garden, looking for any more flowers she could salvage from the decrepit garden.

In what seemed like hours (though she couldn’t tell, as time felt like it had no governance in that realm) she had collected four additional flowers for her small, makeshift bouquet: twin red Carnations sat next to the Daffodil in her hand, a purple Iris and a pink Hibiscus intertwined together wrapped up with the other flowers, and a Sunflower stood tall amongst them. By coincidence, she happened to find a pink ribbon amongst the mess of twig and stone that defined the garden, its origin unknown, but in which Haru used to tie the stems tightly together.

A last patrol around the garden and Haru made her way back to the alcove where Ren sat, the bouquet in her hands. She felt sickly as she saw the number of marigold petals that covered him, touching any inch of skin not already occupied by the snaking thorns around his hunched body. “Ren?” she whispered, in which he did not reply, but when she held up her gift did Ren stir from his position. He blinked; black, shimmering eyes stained with red looked at the flowers with curiosity. Haru choked back a fearful sob as Ren weakly reached for the flowers she held in her hands.

“Here, Ren. These are for you,” she said, yet she did not know if her words reached his ears, or whether he could even comprehend them while in his current state. He grabbed weakly at them, thin fingertips brushing against the petals of the flowers, grasping at them with great difficulty, and Haru helped him seize his gift by grabbing his hand before clasping his fingers for him.

“There you go, Ren. Just hold them tight,” she cooed, wrapping the flowers to his hand with the bouquet’s ribbon, making sure the knot she tied around them secure. She gave him a smile, and although Ren’s gaze was wholly fixated on the flowers he held, he smiled in return.

The white roses and their thorns rapidly snaked up his arms as Haru’s flowers erupted spontaneously into cyclamen and sweet pea, the anemone hissed at her feet as she stumbled back in fear. The petals of marigold once fluttered down sparsely from above now rained on Ren in a torrent as they drowned the boy, his hand holding what was once his gift still exposed, left untouched.

Haru tried to save him, she tried to approach her friend, yet something snaked between her ankles and held her in place, Haru looking down to see stalks of spider lilies squeezing her stationary, more and more joining as the stone path fell before her, Haru’s frame supported by the spider lilies that continued to assault her, Haru screaming as she desperately fought off the flora binding her in place. One latched onto her right wrist before pulling back, another one doing the same to her left, and Haru thrashed, squealing in utter fear as the flowers restrained her, and she looked to still see Ren’s exposed hand, still clutching onto the flowers, the ribbon gleaming vibrantly against pale skin.

“Get-” Haru tried to shriek, fighting instincts flaring in her muscles as terror pooled in her stomach. Yet she was silenced when the lilies snaked up her neck and around her mouth, and she muffled as they continued to climb up her body. She jerked wildly, her body flailing, her vision blackening, the last thing she saw being Ren’s still outstretched hand and the marigolds that continued to pour violently onto him before the lilies snaked around her eyes, and soon suffocated her other senses entirely.

  ---

There was nothing. Black.

Her head was full of fog.

Haru felt her mouth dry. She smacked her lips, the skin chapped, her throat hoarse. Dizzy. She felt dizzy.

The sound of chirped chatter, the patter of a carpeted floor and the clatter of cutlery. Bright light in her eyes mixed with darkness. She could smell something savoury.

Haru opened her eyes, her eyelashes fluttering against her face, the sound of the diners eating and chatting around her, the smell of the buffet reaching her nostrils caused her to salivate, the intensity of the yellow lighting above her made her wince as her eyes adjusted from the brightness from above. She raised her head from the cool dining table she was currently slumped over, waiting for her tired brain to register where she even was.

Blinking a few times, she finally knew where she was: at the famous Wilton hotel buffet in Tokyo. Memories of the spider lily assault sprung back to mind, and Haru panicked as she rushed as she felt her face and looked at her hands. Her mask was on, and she saw her purple gloves and her pink blouse. She was still in her Phantom Thief attire. She was still in the Palace; Ren’s Palace.

A pang of emptiness echoed in her heart as familiar giggles caught her attention, Haru turning her head left to see a copy of herself and a smiling, casually dressed Ren laughing over their cakes. She narrowed her eyes in confusion. She recognised this as one of the numerous meetings she had with him during Ren’s stay in Tokyo; a recent memory to be exact, celebrating her finishing her exams with some of the best confectionery and coffee the hotel could supply. She watched as they conversed, yet barely acknowledged the heavy feeling that weighted her breaths.

“This is good.” Ren complimented, gesturing to the piping, white mug he was holding, “Good coffee, certainly not close to Sojiro’s though,”

���I don’t think there’s coffee that comes close to how Sojiro makes it.” other Haru complimented, taking a sip from her own cup, a satisfied sigh passing through her lips.

“I mean, the guy had help from a certified genius in the form of Futaba’s mom, after all,” Ren pointed out as he gently put down the mug of coffee in front of him, “Wakaba helped a lot with perfecting the stuff Sojiro currently makes… although, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d discover some special coffee tricks himself.”

“Yes well, I’ve actually arranged with him some hours in Leblanc, where he’d promise to teach me some of his coffee making skills,” other Haru said, and Haru could have sworn the sinking feeling came back with more intensity.

“Oh, stealing my job now, aren’t we?” Ren jokes, and other Haru laughs, waving her hand sheepishly. Haru’s own breaths grew heavier.

“Of course not, Ren,” other Haru giggles, “But it’s certainly a good experience to gain for running my cafe. Sojiro-san is kind, patient, and has good experience with running Leblanc, so I personally think it’s appropriate to be guided by him.”

“Well, good luck.” Ren said, taking another sip from his coffee mug, “I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“Thank you!” the other Haru smiled as she took another sip from her cup, “I know I’ll sound quite absurd, but I’m so thankful that you’re so supportive of me opening my cafe. It brings me with joy knowing that I have a friend like you.”

“It’s really no problem, Haru,” Ren said, yet Haru felt otherwise with another pang of dread and stress  echoed in her chest, “I want to see all my friends succeed, and last time I checked you’re one of my friends, unless of course there’s a fight or betrayal of trust I missed the memo of participating in,”

“Ren!” other Haru gasps and Ren casually laughs at her shocked reaction.

“I’m just kidding of course,” he winks, taking a sip of coffee, earning a giggle and a hushed, playful scold from the other Haru, yet Haru could feel inside her heart that it was anything but.

The two continued to talk amongst another, Haru quietly both Ren and her past self as they chatted about all sorts of things, absentmindedly consuming the various delectable treats as they did so. It was when the other Haru gasped did they both realise that they'd run out of sweets to eat. The other Haru stood up from her seat, Ren looking at her with a perplexed expression.

"I'm thinking of grabbing more treats for myself," she said, "The Wilton hotel does have the nicest desserts don't you think? I'm thinking of getting some more of their crumpets, they go well with the jam they provide. What about you, Ren? Would you like anything?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Ren said, smiling at the other Haru. With a nod of understanding and a hushed 'I'll be back' the other Haru quietly wandered away from the table, and it was the first time Haru herself could see Ren noticeably relax in his seat, the smile he wore flattening into a tired frown.

She grimaces, the suffocating feeling coming back now full force within Haru as Ren stared off into the distance, his fingers rhythmically tapping the gleaming surface of the dining table he was sat at. It was a feeling of aimless dread, the feeling that Haru was acquainted with, welling up inside of her from nights staring up at her ceiling, miserable as she had no tangible control of her life as she was used as a people by her father, then again as she was suddenly thrust upon with the responsibilities of managing an entire corporation without so much of an ounce of experience or help. She remembers the dizzying feeling of being so lost with what to do, aimless and stressed and drowning in her emotions, and she remembers Ren being the one who helped her overcome the thoughts of doubts and self-loathing that came with such a huge responsibility of planning her future.

So why was she feeling this all over again? Unless…

"I'm back, sorry I took so long." other Haru apologises as she puts down her plate of treats, Ren sitting back up in his seat and smiling at her, yet Haru could now see his expression was less vibrant than before, "Some vanilla sponge cake caught my eye while I was helping myself with the crumpets, and I was deciding whether to further indulge myself or to take what I wanted, which I ended up doing of course,"

"Shame to that sponge cake," Ren said jokingly, "Left alone in the cruel world, never to be eaten by someone as sweet as it, oh the tragedy!"

"Haha, I'm sure someone will save it from this cruel world," other Haru played along, gently cutting one of the crumpets on her plate into two, "Unrelated to our conversation on sweets, but how have you been doing recently?"

Haru felt herself choke at the question, yet Ren still wore his cheery expression.

"Other than applying for universities, nothing really major," Ren said casually, and Haru felt another well of stress rising from her chest, "I really want to go to a good culinary school, but I'm also looking at drama schools as well, not that they'd accept me, but I'm hoping at least,"

"Drama? I didn't know you were interested in drama. When did this happen, Ren?" other Haru said, and Ren smiled at her.

"When I was applying, I remembered my time as Joker," he explained, his voice now hushed, yet Haru could hear him just as clearly as if the surrounding noise quieted in volume around her, "I… I really enjoyed how free I felt, and though I love cooking more than anything, I… I really want to relive that feeling, I want to be Joker again, I guess is what I'm saying, even joined the drama club as soon as I got back to Yasogami High. A lot of my friends there were shocked by the sudden change of interests almost, but I guess I never knew I had that side within me until then, haha,"

"Well, I'm sure you'll do great," other Haru said reassuringly, and all of a sudden Haru felt… doubt creep out her throat, "You're a strong and determined person Ren, I'm sure whatever you put your mind to, you'll do great!"

Though Haru knew her words of encouragement to her friend were genuine, hearing them again while alien feelings churned around her heart felt disingenuous, fake, lacking any warmth as her past self took a bite out of the crumbling pastry, "And if you need any help, I'll be here for you okay?"

Ren could not help but force a smile, and Haru felt so alone as Ren replied a small, forceful, polite "okay" to the other Haru.

---

Light consumed her vision once more, and Haru found herself back in the Empress Theatre atop the polished, wooden stage, the bright spotlight shining down upon her as she rose from her knees. She looked around the stage, seeing only herself, not even Joker who had mysteriously disappeared, likely wandering within the depths of the backstage to investigate while she was trapped in her trial.

Grabbing her axe that lay beside her, Haru noticed a peculiar object that she had not seen before. It lay in front of her, edges gleaming beautifully in the light, and she recognised it as her mask.

“Is that…” she exclaimed in bewilderment, quickly touching her face to see that yes, she did still have her mask on. She pushed herself off the floor, picking up the handle of her axe before approaching the object, grabbing it off the floor.

It was a perfect replica of her mask, down to the soft bend where it settled on the ridge of her nose. It felt light, yet fragile, Haru marvelling at the craftsmanship down to the stitching on the edges, the material shone slickly as she tilted it around, taking a closer look.

She heard familiar heels clicking gently on the polished floor, turning around to see Joker, his golden eyes looking quizzically at hers as he walked towards the thief, hands in his pockets, his coat flapping lazily in time with the sway of his steps.

“So, you’ve gotten a key,” he informed her, looking at the black mask in her hands.

“To the Fool’s Theatre, right?” she asked him, and Joker nods, smiling proudly at her achievement.

“You did great, Noir!” he smiled at her, and Haru smiled in return. She pocketed the mask before she turned to leave the stage, yet when she made her way towards the stairs Joker gently grabbed her arm.

“Joker, what’s the matter?” she asked, slightly startled by his abrupt action. Joker pulled his hand away from her, a look of intensity in his eyes before they wandered from her own down towards her hand that clutched the mask.

“Why don’t you put it on?” he said, before meeting her gaze again, his tone assertive, not really asking her but rather demanding her to put on the strange object. Haru’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Why would I do that?” she asked, puzzled by Joker’s peculiar suggestion, tilting her head slightly, “Is it something I have to do in addition to-”

“No, that’s not it.” Joker admitted. He looked hesitant, constantly shifting from one leg to another, looking down at the floor as he tried to find the right words to convey his thoughts.

“It’s just...” he began, his voice trailed off along with his gaze. They both snapped suddenly back towards her, “Aren’t you tired of being Haru?”

“I… I don’t understand,” Haru replied, taken aback by his strange question, “What do you mean, tired of being me’? I don’t think I can ever be tired of being ‘me’ if I’m always ‘me’ so to say,”

“I meant, are you tired of being Haru?” he clarified, “tired of the responsibilities, tired of having to hide your true self, tired of having to suppress your feelings, tired of having to force yourself to smile, to pretend, to please everyone? Don’t you want to be free of it all?”

He pointed at the mask she held beside her, “All you have to do is wear that mask, Haru. If you do, you’ll be able to finally be free.”

Haru felt uncomfortable. She couldn’t fathom why Joker would suggest such a thing to her, stepping back in almost fear, his words settling a feeling of unease in her stomach.

“I’ll be free?” she asked, yet she feared she knew what he was suggesting. Joker stepped towards her, his eyes transfixed onto hers, his expression unreadable, and Haru could feel her heart thump loudly, ringing in her ears.

“Put on the mask, Haru,” Joker insisted, his tone demanding, expecting her to do what she was told to, “Put it on. Become Noir,” he said, “Leave Haru behind,”

“Joker, you’re scaring me,” Haru squeaked, again backing away from the shadow, her grip on her axe tightening, ready to defend herself if she absolutely had to. Yet Joker did not deter from his goal. He still pursued her, his pace quickened to match the fleeing girl, and Haru felt herself on the precipice of hysterics.

“Put. On. The. Mask. Haru.” Joker demanded, his calm, polite facade dissipated, the shadow from under his mask overcasting his eyes, taking one large stride across the gap between to loom over her, “Do it, Haru. Do it!”

“No,” she mumbled, and Joker looked at her, confused.

“What?”

“I said,” she began, her voice rising, her fear evaporating, the anger in which she wielded against shadows in the Metaverse coming to her aid once more. She eyed Joker, the same defiant look he had taught her to embrace when she rebelled against her father and her unwanted fiancé, the same call to action she had felt when she had first fully awoken to her Persona now buzzed within her fingertips, “I said, no! You might be Ren’s shadow, but you are not Ren! You’re an ugly part of him, one that could grow, and fester unchecked! I don’t care if you call yourself, Joker. You are not him! You will never be him! And I will never take orders from you!”

“But, Noir!” Joker pleaded, shifting once more into his polite facade, “I’m trying to free you! To give you a better existence! To exist unchained by society! Why are you throwing this opportunity to truly live as you are!? If you join me, you and I and the others would enjoy a perfect world where we rule it. Don't you want that?!”

" I don't want to, because,” she now shouted, politeness and kindness towards the shadow replaced with scorn and fury, regaining her footing against Joker as she stood up tall, axe now at the ready, feeling Lucy pulsating within her as her Persona itched for a fight, “I’m already living as my true self, as me! You should know, Joker. It was you - no - Ren, who showed me that, showed me that I can live and exist as myself, both around my friends and in society! I don’t need to exist as Noir, because Noir is me and I am her! And your "perfect world" idea? It goes against everything we, as Noir and Haru, and as the Phantom Thieves, stand for, and you know it yourself!”

The mask in her hand suddenly began to shake violently in her grip, Haru gasped as it fell out of her grasp and onto the floor, shattering into pieces.

“No!” both shrieked as the mask shattered, shards of black spilling across the stage. Before either of them could utter a word, the pieces began to vibrate erratically on their own before erupting into dark tendrils that rose into the air. They congregate together, swirling into a ball of black before morphing into a silhouette. Suddenly, as quick as it appeared the silhouette shed the shadow that formed it to reveal a Kali.

“Haru!” Joker gasped, yet Haru ignored him completely, running towards the shadow with a battle cry, both of her hands gripping tightly on her axe as she swung it with her entire strength. Kali blocked Haru’s attack with ease with the use of its swords, pushing Haru away, the girl stumbling back on the wooden floor, yet she managed to regain her footing, taking a fighting stance once more.

“Haru, stop!” Joker begged as Haru continued to fight the shadow, yet she did not heed his words, instead continuing her assault towards the shadow. Joker attempted to step between the shadow and the girl yet stopped when Haru reached for her mask.

“Lucy!” she shouted, ripping her mask off her face, summoning her Persona in an eruption of blue flame, casting Life Wall on herself as the Kali charged towards her, Joker desperately trying to find an opening to intervene, yet the gap between them closed too quickly. The Kali took a swing, the strength of its strike immediately bouncing off the magical wall that Haru put over herself and striking the shadow instead, and the girl used the opportunity provided to take out her grenade launcher before blasting the shadow back completely.

“Noir, what are you doing!?” Joker growled at her, yet Haru paid little attention as she raised her axe, and before the shadow could react, let alone flee, she brought her blade down upon it, killing it.

“No!” Joker shrieked as the Kali dissipated from the stage, leaving a crystalline version of the mask behind, clutching his hair as he stared at the object, eyes wide and panicked, “No no no no no!”

“W... what?” Haru mumbled, blinking rapidly as she calmed down, withdrawing her axe to her side as she saw the crystal mask on the wooden floor. It had the same shape, but it now appeared crystalline, its colour purple like the gloves she currently wore. She approached the masked and crouched down looking at it curiously, yet she dared not touch it.

“Joker, w-”

“You ruined everything!” Joker screamed as he stomped on the floor, tears forming around the corners of his eyes, enraged as he looked at Haru with hatred, “My prop… my precious prop… I spent so long preparing it, making sure it would do what I wanted; I even had to ruin my statue, only for you to destroy it!”

Haru flinched each time Joker raised his voice, her sudden burst of adrenaline from the Kali fight, the drain from her trial and the uncharacteristic tantrum Joker was throwing left her kneeling on the floor, too stunned and exhausted from her trial and fight to do anything but watch as he complained incessantly about his plans. He reached into his hair, intertwining his fingers around his curly locks, mumbling frantically, and Haru could just hear him talk to himself.

“Ruined… ruined… the key… the script… fuck...” he muttered, Haru straining to hear him through her frantic heartbeat. She reached slowly for the crystal mask that lay beside her, gently brushing the smooth surface with her fingertips before she grabbed it. As she did so, Joker snapped to attention and saw the mask in her hands.

“Haru,” Joker warned, hands dropping to his sides, staring at her with a blank expression, yet his eyes followed the mask obsessively, “What are you doing?”

“I’m… I’m taking the mask,” Haru said, her voice hesitant as she stood up from the floor, Joker’s gaze still following the object.

“Hah, you are, aren’t you?” he snarled, scowling with hatred as he looked at her, golden eyes radiating hatred towards Haru, “Ruining my plans, my production, just like that? Hah, I expected nothing less...”

“Joker, please stop this-”

“No!” he screamed, and Haru jumped, her breath lurching as he laughed maniacally in restrained gasps, holding his head in his hands as he closed his eyes, “Why, why would I stop? I want to achieve my goal, Haru, something you can relate to correct? After all, I was the one who helped you gather the courage to attend that stupid Okumura Foods meeting to launch your dream in opening your little cafe,”

He raised his head to look at her, “So why did you ruin mine?”

“Joker-”

“I know why,” he started, again walking towards her, his chin held high, his grin bearing teeth as he looked down at her, “It’s because you like to ruin things, don’t you, Haru?”

“I-”

“Taking Morgana away from us, always whining about the father who treated you to an end. By the way,” he pondered for a moment, tapping his chin with a finger in mock thought, “that guy you were supposed to get married with, Sugimura. Whatever happened to him?”

“I managed-”

“-to call off the marriage, I figured as much.” Joker smiled, causing Haru further unease, “To think you’d be able to do something on your own. Never thought you’d be even capable of something like that-”

“Joker,” Haru interrupted, and Joker stopped his rant as she slowly got up to her feet, “Ren… why are you saying all of this!? What are you talking about!? What’s gotten into you?”

Joker flinched visibly at her calling his real name, as if remembering that it was indeed his own name, and he wore a sour expression.

“Why do you want to know?” he spat at her, eyes narrowing in contempt as he addressed her.

“Because, this is unlike you,” Haru said, walking slowly towards him, expression sincere and kind as she spoke, “This is not the kind, understanding, supportive leader that I got to know. Ren...”

“Then you really don’t know me at all, do you?” he chuckled dryly, shaking his head in almost disbelief, “Haru; there’s so much you don’t know about me, yet you trust me? Why?”

“Well… why wouldn’t I?” Haru asked, genuinely confused as he continued to chuckle to himself.

“I know why,” he said, “Because you are an idiot. An airheaded, spoiled idiot that wormed her way into our friend group. If it weren’t for your father, we wouldn’t have to deal with Sae, I wouldn’t have to play bait just to get back at Akechi, and we wouldn’t have to deal with the scathing backlash, only to be forgotten like just some…. Some cultural FAD!”

Each word Joker said raised his voice until he was screaming at her, and each word caused Haru to become more and more upset as Joker assaulted her with his voice, echoing across the walls of the empty hall, until Joker was huffing, a hand over his forehead, almost heaving with exhaustion, and Haru attempted to reach out for him, only for Joker to swat her hand.

“Don’t” Joker managed to gasp as he suddenly felt dizzy, the same surge of power and energy he felt when first confronting his other that boggled his mind even further. ‘Why was this happening now?’ he asked himself as he eyed Haru with malice, while the curly-haired girl looked at him with horror; worry even.

“Just go,” he growled, his words only bringing more power to his veins, Joker trying to restrain the groans that bubbled up his throat, opting instead to huddle further towards the stage floor. Haru did not know what to do. She wanted to help, eyes widened with panic as to her, Joker’s condition continued to worsen, yet a small part of her feared retribution from the shadow if she tried to help him once again.

“Joker, are you-”

“LEAVE ME.” Joker screeched; his voice boomed in unnatural volume as the walls shook violently. Haru yelped as the power surges continued in Joker’s veins, him now unable to contain himself, uttering a groan of pleasure. He looked up from his curled position to still see Haru looking at him with worry, and with another boom, he shouted, “LEAVE”.

And Haru did. There was first hesitation in her steps, but she obeyed his request, turning and running from the stage and out of the auditorium as the petals from the flowers around her shed their petals at horrifyingly unnatural speeds, leaves shrivelling up and dying, falling towards the now running, scared girl as she swore her surroundings were collapsing around her, and Joker could not help but cackle behind her at the sight of her fleeing before he hastily retreated behind the back of the stage.

---

 “What do you think they’re doing in there anyway?” Ryuji sighed, leaning back at his seat as he bounced his leg impatiently.

The rest of the Phantom Thieves sat in the booth, waiting for Haru and Joker to emerge with the mask, eager to continue with their pursuit deeper into the Palace. Some occupied themselves, Futaba typing away on her laptop, trying to ignore the detective clad in black in front of her, while Yusuke lightly sketched the Palace interior in a little notebook. However, most of them did not have such objects to distract themselves as they waited, Ryuji finding it increasingly annoying that he couldn’t connect to the Internet while in the Metaverse, Ann absentmindedly flicked through the little program Joker provided them over and over again, while Makoto and Morgana discussed their next plan of action.

“I dunno, when they’re done, I guess,” Futaba answered “I’m trying to see if I can hack into anything that’ll give us a view as to what is happening inside. Hopefully, there are cameras and a network feed of some kind that I can easily hack into,”

“And what about Senpai?” Sumire asked Futaba, who looked up from her laptop to address her.

“He’s okay,” Futaba answered, “I’ve set up some signals to track his vitals and location. Though nothing’s major’s happening now, I’ve set up alerts if there is a change in either his location or condition,”

“I doubt that any real harm would come to him,” Goro informs, and Futaba scows.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, bird brain,” she seethed in a hushed tone, Goro acting like he hadn’t heard or cared for what she said as Goro continued, “Whoever or whatever has Ren needs him alive to continue to exist of course; their existence is too intertwined with his wellbeing, and any disruption to that can cause serious harm to either the Palace or it,”

“And what do you suppose this ‘thing’ that has Ren, is? A rogue cognition?” Yusuke said, entering the conversation as he put his small sketchbook down onto the table. Goro hesitates, his tongue pressing against the roof of his mouth.

“I-”

“It’s probably some rogue shadow or whatever, maybe a cog’ of his parents since they’re really strict towards Ren,” Ryuji interrupts Goro, “Nothing to worry about, we can probably take them on easy, especially with Joker on our side,”

“I wasn’t going to say-”

“Guys cut it out and stop bullying Crow,” Ann scolded both Futaba and Ryuji, “I know we have our differences and stuff, but we need all the help we can get if we’re gonna save Ren. That also means no interrupting and name-calling, okay?”

“I didn’t call him names,”

“And I didn’t interrupt him!” Both Ryuji and Futaba defended themselves, Goro sighing at the bickering thieves, barely expecting them to allow him to speak at all, retreating away from them to see Yusuke and Sumire still intently holding their attention towards him.

“So, what do you think it is, Crow?” Yusuke inquires politely, Sumire looking as though she has the same question in mind. Goro looks away from the both for a moment, trying to word his thoughts.

“Well, I don’t think you’ll like it either way,” he began, his gaze still distant and thoughtful, red eyes looking at the double doors as he allows himself to ponder for a moment, “I still don’t have any evidence myself, but. I distrust the shadow that roams here,”

“You mean Joker?” Sumire asked, and Goro nodded in response, “But why, Crow-senpai?”

“I’m not one to question gut feelings, but why do you suspect his shadow?” Yusuke queried Goro, “He’s been doing nothing but helping us so far. The shadow is the true self is it not? If Joker is acting kind, can’t we suspect that he is kind in turn?”

“I don’t want to appear as being crass but: I have a feeling that Joker’s hiding things from you all,”

Everyone within earshot stopped abruptly with their prior conversations, Makoto and Morgana pausing from their discussion, Ann interrupted from her scolding of Ryuji and Futaba, all of them turning to face Goro in stunned silence, some with their mouths agape.

“Joker’s… lying to us?” Ann questioned Goro carefully, eyes unnaturally wide under her mask, “A-are you sure!?”

“Are you sure about that?” Ryuji interrogated Goro, leaning forward, looking at him with suspicion, “I mean, we are his friends, and we’ve known him way longer than you,”

“Yes, I know,” Goro gasped quickly, “But I have an uneasy feeling that he’s lying to you a-”

“Joker would never lie to us,” Futaba snapped at him angrily, the thieves flinching as she hissed at Goro with such uncharacteristic anger and boldness, “He would never! You’re just, just trying to get us to not trust him, aren’t you?!”

“Oracle, I-”

“No, you shut up, this is Ren we’re talking about,” Futaba hissed, her hands curling into fists as she glared at Goro under her goggles, “He would never lie to us! He would never! You don’t know him! You tried to kill him!”

“Futaba-”

“Shu-”

The Palace abruptly trembled, the chandeliers above rattled violently, vases shattering, cognitive patrons screaming as the Phantom Thieves sprang from their seats, with a quick order from Makoto, they all dived under the small table as their surroundings shook.

“What’s going on?!” Ann cried out as she tried her best to retreat underneath the table, pulling Ryuji in as he clumsily fell forward, “Why is the Palace shaking?!”

“I don’t know, but I do know that something’s happening to Ren,” Futaba informs them, voice barely audible shaking from the tremors and her fear as her laptop beeps noisily in her lap.

“Oracle, what’s wrong!?” Sumire screamed as the tremors worsened, Futaba scrambling to look at her laptop, typing away at the keyboard as her eyes darted around the screen.

“It’s Ren!” she replied, “I don’t know what’s happening to him, but-”

Haru stumbles out from the double doors, her expression one of haste and panic, and fast as the tremors came the Palace suddenly stood still. The cowering Phantom Thieves paused as Haru fell onto the carpeted floor in a daze, lying on her side and breathing heavily, clutching her axe alongside an object in her hands. One they suspected that the reason why the quake that had hit the Palace had passed, they each emerged from under the table, excluding Futaba, who was still working away on her laptop.

“Noir! Haru, are you okay?!” Morgana exclaims as he rushes towards the fallen girl, paws glittering with green healing magic, ready to aid her, “What happened in there?! Where’s Joker?!”

“Joker...” Haru mumbles, her expression downcast at the mention of their missing friend, her eyes fixated on the carpet floor, her fingers curling with reflex. She closed her eyes temporarily, feeling suddenly, very, very tired, and she could physically feel bags forming under her eyes.

“Haru, what’s wrong?” Ann asked the girl, too occupied with worrying about her friend’s help to use their allocated codenames, swooping down to her level, kneeling alongside Morgana on the carpeted floor, “You look tired, take it easy okay?”

Haru slowly nods, as if the gesture was a Herculean task on its own, acknowledging Ann’s words as she allowed herself to be assisted by the red-wearing girl. Ann approached Haru, sliding an arm around her back, slinging Haru’s arm around her neck before lifting her up by the shoulders.

“Haru, I’m sorry if I agitate you further, but may I inquire about the glittering object you’re holding in your grasp?” Yusuke asked, pointing at the shiny purple object in the hand that slung around Ann’s shoulders.

“Just… take it,” Haru slurred, her eyes fluttering as she struggled to stay awake, her energy quickly draining as she stood there, “Please, I feel...”

Yusuke nodded, catching the crystalline object as Haru dropped it, Ryuji running by her side, helping Ann up as Haru looked as though she was about to lose consciousness, her skin flushing white.

“Is that?” Sumire gasps as Yusuke observes what he assumed to be a key Joker mentioned earlier, “Is that Noir’s mask?”

“Whatever it is, it’s definitely a key,” Futaba said, having already scanned the object in their hands with Al Azif, “It’s resonating with the door on the topmost floor, no doubt the same one that leads to the Fool’s Theatre,”

“While I do want to discuss additional things, I suggest we first get Noir out of here,” Makoto commands the others, “She is in no fighting condition, and if we were faced with another ambush like we did earlier, with Joker missing, we would be in an especially vulnerable position,”

“But, Ren-”

“We can’t go on, Skull,” Makoto shakes her head, “As much as I want to rush ahead in order to save Ren, we need to let Noir rest and regather her strength. We have plenty of time, Ren is a strong person, and we can strategize what to do next back in the real world, but for now, we need to retreat, okay?”

Ryuji opens his mouth to argue, a force look burned in his eyes, yet when he looked at Makoto’s stern, uncompromising expression he closed his mouth. He visibly winced, attempting to argue with their leader, but when he looked upon Haru’s pale, sickly face he realised that Makoto had a point.

“Okay, Queen,” he sighed defeatedly, before gesturing to Ann to follow him out of the Palace. She nodded, and while carefully supporting Haru they made their way down the stairs towards the grand foyer.

“As for the mask,” she turns to the rest of the thieves that remained in the Metaverse, “Oracle and Mona, you should hold onto the mask for the time being since you’re close to the meetup spot. I’m sure Skull and Panther would escort Noir back home just fine. As for the rest of you, we’ll discuss our next meeting session when Noir feels better and regains her strength, and Oracle and Crow; please stay behind for a bit, I need to discuss possible methods of communication between us all, if that’s okay,”

Futaba and Morgana nod in agreement, Yusuke handing the object to the girl as he leaves, Sumire giving the remaining thieves a tiny wave as they both exit the Palace.

“You aren’t leaving, Mona?” Futaba questions the cat, noticing him standing vigilantly between her and Goro.

He gives a nod and a smile. “I made a promise to Ren that if anything were to happen to him, I would be there to protect you,” he explained, Futaba giving him a puzzled look, “I mean, he didn’t, but he implied it, and that’s good enough for me,”

“Anyway,” Makoto coughed, grabbing the attention of all three of them, “Oracle, how easy is it for you to make sure our chats and calls are secure?”

  --

  The foyer of the top floor was empty compared to the rest of the building, no cognitions of people or ushers holding shadows alike wandered along the red-carpeted floor of the foyer in front of the most important auditorium in the Palace: the Fool’s Theatre.

Two red doors stood vigilant, surrounded by smooth black walls of marble, veins of gold running through the stone as red curtains hung along it, potted plants sprouting tall, green shrubs sparsely decorated the room, a golden chandelier hung in the middle, glittering beautifully in the surrounding light.

Joker emerged from the elevators that hugged the wall next to the stairs, hands casually in his pockets, having escaped the Empress Theatre he made his way back into his own. He strides across the room with long steps towards the doors, grabbing its golden handle, yet paused to inspect the velvet that decorated them. Cavities that held the keys to the theatre, won by the trials all the thieves had to face stayed empty, Joker brushing a gloved hand to where Haru’s mask would have been slotted in, before pulling the door open, it obeying its rightful master and allowed him entry, the lights of the auditorium shuttering dramatically to life.

Bathed in golden luminosity, the interior of his beloved hall glittered wonderfully in his eyes. Black, pristine leather seats lined each row along with red carpet decorated in a faint checkered pattern, golden walls and columns accenting the room and balconies, leading up to the beautiful mural that reminisced Yusuke's interpretation of Desire and Hope, brought to life as colours swirled and shifted and radiated above the grand, obsidian chandelier that dangled below it. He made his way down among the row of seats, his footsteps padded on the carpet, and with one quick motion he shot out his grappling hook, zipping across the air, before landing perfectly onto the wooden performance space.

Retracting the grappling hook and tucking his hands casually in his pockets, Joker retreated under the towering, black and gold curtains of the stage as he headed towards his dressing room.

The door to his sanctuary was located at the end of the otherwise bleak hallway, the red velvet shining against blank white doors, his name on a star-shaped door plate made of gold. He reached for the doorknob, twisting it, a soft ‘click’ echoing in the hallway as he pushed it open.

His dressing room was as luxurious as the theatre it was housed in, red and blacks decorated each crevice, white and gold accenting countertops and tables and door edges, expensive platters of food, bottles of drink, and electronics scattered across the room, all with a marble floor, gold veins accenting cracks between the rock. In the middle room, a black leather seat faced a large screen TV that was nestled comfortably within the wall, two beautifully velvet lined doors stood next to each other, leading to his bedroom and ‘office’ respectively. Closing the door behind him, Joker ignored all the temptations surrounding him completely, instead wandering towards the back of the room, where a single door lay forgotten, untouched by the same opulence which adorned its surroundings. A gloved hand on the doorknob, he twisted, flinging it open with gusto, flooding the dark monitor room with light.

“Bonjour mon invité, je suis de retour!” he called, laughing as he reached for Ren’s chair, grabbing it before he spun around to his other’s scow, Ren’s face illuminated by artificial, flickering lights. Ren did not reply, he did not want to give the satisfaction that he knew his shadow craved, yet Joker noticed his glistening wet cheeks, taking upon himself to inspect Ren’s face by suddenly grabbing his chin, his other’s eyes astonished as Joker inspected him.

“Ren, what happened to you?” Joker cooed, yet his tone lacked any real concern or warmth as he tilted Ren’s head, inspecting the glistening streaks of tears on his face, “Why did you cry? Do my plays not bring you joy?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ren hissed as he jerked his head away from Joker’s grasp, feeling more disgusted and sicker the closer his shadow got to him, “Don’t touch me, don’t you dare touch me,”

Joker withdrew his hand back at Ren’s sudden outburst, feigning surprise at Ren’s rebellious attitude towards him, “I’m safe to assume that your tears are the result of the performances I put on for you, or perhaps from me interacting with your friends?”

“Whatever your plan is, leave them out of it,” Ren fumed, pulling on the restraints that bounded his hands, “They’ve got nothing to do with this place. I’m clearly the one you want, and I suspect you’d want to keep it that way,”

“I do,” Joker muses, “But I also want them. You see, Ren, I’ve clearly invited them here, not to steal your heart, but to save them from themselves, from this Hellish society that we all live in-”

“And you’re doing that by insulting them and brainwashing them?”

“I… didn’t mean to say those things to Haru,” Joker confessed, “But she left me no choice. If she wasn’t going to join us, I had to drive her out, I had to push her away, so she wouldn’t interfere with us, you understand right? I know you do, because you’re me,”

“I’m not you,” Ren spat, though he knew deep down his shadow was right, the words he uttered to Haru were his, thoughts he kept deep within his heart, yet he tried anyway to deny the manifestation of his darkest thoughts and feelings around him, “I’m not you,” he cried, “I’m not you,”

“But I am you,” Joker said plainly, raising his neck above to look down on Ren, both to dominate and to allow him to accommodate the intoxicating surge of power that again surged his veins, “I am thou, and I will see my - our - plan to its conclusion. Because you know why,”

“Because-”

“Because I get things done.” Joker stated, interrupting Ren as he snarled with superiority, “I always get things done. You. You get nothing done. I always do, I will succeed in our plan, I will see my play come to its intended conclusion, and I WILL get our friends to our side, so we can finally get what we deserve,”

“You won’t, because the others will stop you,” Ren said, though he quickly knew he was losing his argument the further Joker’s amused grin twitched wider, “They’ll save me, they’ll change my heart, they’ll-”

Ren choked a sob, Joker’s eyes widened abruptly, and the shadow stumbled back, clutching the red fabric of his waistcoat tightly, crashing into the wall behind him as he gasped.

It was another surge, more powerful than before, Joker groaned as his head spun, dizzying sensations clutched his consciousness as his eyesight blurred, tears welling up the corners of his eyes, and he could feel his heart twist in his chest. It was the same feeling he’d experience with Haru, the same sensations he felt taunting his other, yet as he looked at the horrified expression Ren had on his face with forgotten tears freshly streaking his face did he finally realise where these sensations came from.

Joker laughed as the surge fizzled away as fast as it had arrived as he sat on the floor, lying against the wall as he looked at Ren who was dumbfounded by what he just had witnessed. Joker allowed himself to relax before he clambered back onto his feet, the surge leaving him a shaky mess as he supported himself with a hand on the wall. He took a minute for himself gathering his breaths as he slumped against the wall, all the while Ren observed him with perplexed, fearful eyes.

“Hah, what a revelation,” Joker exclaimed breathlessly, straightening his posture and turning to Ren, “To think we learned something about the Metaverse during our chats, and I thought Mona had told us everything,”

“You’re insane, you really are,”

“Hmm, I wouldn’t describe myself as such,” Joker shrugged, “Then again, I’m-”

“Don’t say it,”

“Then don’t make me,” Joker laughs before turning towards the exit, a hand resting on the doorknob, “Anyway, I’ll make sure to get you some water so you don’t dehydrate yourself, and in something that you can’t easily smash or use to spill onto the controls,” he added, “I’m not an idiot.”

With his last remark, Joker closed the door behind him, leaving Ren alone with the numerous screens, some of them empty, some of them with plays that played repeatedly, and some of them looping footage of Haru’s saddened expression, of his friends, fighting and bickering. He closed his eyes, trying to drown the incessant chatter that surrounded him.

But he had hope. Hope for his friends in reaching him, hope that he was able to hold his sanity together, hope that they’d change his heart, that they’ll persevere, that they’ll be able to fight through whatever his twisted Palace had in store for them, and whatever Joker had prepared for them.

Because, he knew he had to, or allow his twisted heart to consume him entirely.

FLOWER MEANINGS Sunflower - Respect, Passionate Love, Radiance. Iris - Good News,Glad Tidings, Loyalty Gentle - Gentle. Daffodil - Respect. Carnation - Fascination, Distinction, and Love Anemone - Protection from evil, Forsaken, Expectations. White Rose - Innocence, Silence, Devotion. Narcissus - Self-Esteem Cyclamen and Sweet Pea - Resignation, Good-bye. Lotus -  Purity, Chastity. Marigold - Grief, Despair, Jealousy / God’s Perfect Light. Red Spider Lily - Never to meet again, Lost memory, Abandonment TRANSLATE Bonjour mon invité, je suis de retour - Hello my guest, I have returned.

[nerdzzone]

Light After Dark: Chapter Five

Summary: Brooke Harris was trying her best to be grateful. As the world tackled the COVID-19 pandemic, she was healthy and safe and so was the rest of her family, but her dreams had very quickly been crushed by the economic fallout. Trapped on the quaint island of Jersey with nothing, but free time to wallow in her mistakes, Brooke’s mental health was taking a hit, but when she collides with a handsome stranger she starts to realize that the future might not be so bleak and there might still be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

A/N: Any names or info about Henry’s family is completely made up and all the gifs I found on google (feel free to contact me for credit if they’re yours!). I would love to hear any feedback on the story so far! :)

______________

May. 5. 2020

"Mum!" I shouted from the kitchen as I admired my creation on the counter. "Where exactly do the Cavills live?"

I heard brief footsteps before my mother's head popped into the kitchen.

"Oh, wow, Brookie," She gasped. "That looks incredible!"

I grinned proudly at the beautiful cake on the counter. It was three tiered and designed to look like Superman. The top being his head, the middle being his torso and the bottom being his bottom half. Complete with cape, curl on his forehead and Superman logo all made out of fondant icing.

"Thank you. Do you think I could walk it over or would I need to take the car?"

"Hm, walking might be safest," She mused as she grabbed her phone off the counter to take a picture. "It's not far and I can come with you if you don't mind. I wouldn't mind saying hello to Marianne."

"That would be great. I'd feel better having someone else to help support it."

"Perfect!" She nodded. "Honestly, darling, this is magnificent. The detail is amazing."

"Thanks," I smiled. "I just need to change quickly and we can go."

She didn't answer as she was so wrapped up in photographing my work so I scurried off up to my room, buzzing with excitement.

****

May was always a tricky time for choosing how to dress. It wasn't overly warm, only about fifteen degrees, but the cool weather we'd had the week before made it seem a lot warmer than it actually was. Carrying the cake would be tricky and I didn't want to show up to Henry's house all sweaty and gross, but I also didn't want to show up dressed for the middle of summer and have him think I was insane.

I groaned as I tossed another shirt disapprovingly onto my bed and heard a giggle from the door.

"Are you struggling?" Cassie teased as she moved into the room and sat on the bed. "It looks like a hurricane has been through here."

"I don't know what to wear," I whined. "I've not seen him in person since we've started talking, I want to make a good impression."

"You're just dropping off a cake, Brooke, you're not even going on a date."

Her statement was intended to calm me down and take the pressure off a bit, but it did the opposite. My cheeks heated up and I suddenly felt incredibly silly.

"I know," I bit my lip as nervous anxiety bubbled in my chest. "I'm blowing it out of proportion, aren't I?"

"A little bit," She nodded. "It's nothing to stress about, hun."

"Was I stupid for making the cake at all?" I asked, "Is it too much?"

"What?" Cassie's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Why on earth would it be too much? That wasn't what I meant at all. I just meant that you don't need to get yourself all worked up over something silly like what to wear."

"It's just weird," I groaned, dragging myself away from my closet to sit on the bed next to her. "We've been talking for almost a month now, but it's hard to figure out where we stand when we can't actually see each other in person. I don't want to overstep if maybe I've read the signals wrong."

"Okay, well, first of all, he asked you to make him a cake so even if he only asked you because he knows you're a baker and he wants a really nice birthday cake then you're still not overstepping," She reminded me. "And second of all, I've seen your conversations. He likes you. He'll be just as excited to see you again as you are to see him."

"Do you think so? I mean, I think we're flirting, but I'm notoriously bad at reading the signs and he's fucking Superman for god's sake, why would he want to flirt with me?"

"Because you, my darling sister, are hot," Cassie smirked. "And you're funny and sweet and thoughtful. You're a total catch and even if he is Superman, he's the lucky one in this equation."

I couldn't help, but smile at her kind words, knowing she meant every one of them.

"Thanks Cass," I said softly, feeling some of the nerves in my stomach dissipate slightly. "I just don't want to get ahead of myself. It's fun talking to him, but it's hard when you can't actually meet face to face."

"Well, from all the giggling that comes out of this room when you're talking to him on the phone, I would say that you have nothing to worry about," She assured me before standing from my bed and heading to my closet. "Now, let's find you something to wear."

By the time Cassie was done styling me I was wearing a long black sleeve shirt under short style overalls. It was a good mix of warm, but cool for a sunny spring day.

"Are you sure I don't look like I'm dressed up as a farm girl?"

Cassie giggled at my question, but shook her head.

"No, you look adorable," She insisted. "And it shows off your legs. You have great legs."

I looked down at them in the mirror and thought they looked pretty average, but I took her word for it, thanked her and headed back downstairs to meet my mum.

"I thought you said 'quickly'," She scoffed as I walked back into the room. "You've been gone almost half an hour."

"That is quick when you're getting ready to see the man you've fallen in love with."

I spun around to scowl at my dad who'd appeared by the kitchen door.

"I'm not in love with him," I argued. "We're just friends."

"Quite the extravagant cake to make for a friend," He teased. "You've never made me anything like this."

"I make things for you all the time," I mumbled, letting my hair fall in front of my face to hide my red cheeks. "Just because I'm living at home again doesn't mean you need to tease me like I'm fifteen."

"You just make it too easy, Sweetheart," He grinned. "But I'm sure your boyfriend will love his cake."

I groaned as my mom smiled and scolded her husband on my behalf.

"Alright, we should get going," She told me. "If we leave it much longer we'll catch them in the middle of their supper."

She was being dramatic, it hadn't taken me that long to get changed, but I nodded and slipped my phone into my back pocket before gently lifting the cake off the counter.

****

The walk over was slow going. It should have only taken maybe ten minutes to get to the Cavill's house, but I was so terrified of dropping the cake that it took almost twice as long. Focusing on that was a good distraction though and by the time I was placing the cake stand on their doormat I felt less nervous and more excited for him to see it.

Once it was safely placed on the ground, I knocked loudly on the door and scurried back to where my mom was waiting on the other side of the porch, six feet away.

"I hope he's the one who answers the door," I thought, voicing it out loud to my mother. "Or someone might end up very confused."

She laughed quietly beside me as the door swung open and Henry was standing there only a few feet away. They say that you tend to build things up in your mind when you go without it for a while so there was part of me that had thought there was no way Henry was as handsome in person as I remembered. But he was.

My breath caught in my throat for a minute as he glanced down at the cake and then up at me with an ear to ear grin on his face.

"Happy birthday!"

"Wow, thank you so much," He chuckled. "I didn't think you'd actually make me a cake."

I dropped my jaw in an exaggerated way before rolling my eyes.

"You absolutely did," I insisted. "I was worried if we didn't get it here soon you'd come looking for it. You've mentioned it almost every day."

"Alright, I did," Henry admitted with a smirk as he picked up the cake. "But, wow, this is next level. It's amazing!"

All the commotion had drawn a crowd to the door that came into view as Henry moved the cake to a little table on the porch and set it down.

"Sue! Hello!" A woman called as she made her way outside. She was around my mother's age so I assumed she was Henry's mum. "How lovely to see you!"

"Oh, it's lovely to see you too!" My mum smiled. "Brooke said she could use some help carrying this cake over so I jumped at the chance. Isn't it awful being cooped up at home all the time?"

"Gosh, it's just terrible."

"Mum," Henry called, interrupting the little reunion as he lifted up the dome I'd used to protect the cake. "Look how amazing this is."

There was a chorus of 'wows', impressed gasps and various other praise and I felt my cheeks go red from the attention.

"Did you make this all from scratch?" Henry asked as a curly mass of brown hair flew through the door and over to the table. "Whoa, careful Alfie, don't knock it down."

Henry grabbed the boy, who looked to be about eight, gently by the shoulders to stop him from getting too close as he stared at it wide-eyed.

"That's so cool," He whispered in awe. "It looks like Superman!"

"It looks like Uncle Henry!" Another, slightly younger, boy shouted as he scurried over as well. "When Uncle Henry's in the movies!"

"I'm glad you think so! I tried my best to make it look like him," I smiled, drawing their attention away from the cake and towards me. "And yes, I did make it all from scratch. But I did wear a mask and gloves the whole time and I thoroughly sanitized the kitchen before I started so it's completely germ free. Not that I have any germs to pass on, I promise."

"What a strange time we're living in that you have to provide such a disclaimer when giving your friend a cake."

That observation came from an amused woman standing in the doorway and, as if he read my mind, Henry spoke up.

"Sorry, I should do some introductions," He realized. "Brooke, this is my mother and Father. My brother, Simon, and his wife, Louise, and their three kids, Alfie, George, and Amelia. Everyone, this is Brooke and her mother."

My mother spoke up before I did, informing him that she'd met them all before at one time or another, but once she was done I offered an awkward wave.

"Hello, everyone! It's nice to meet you all."

"I can't believe that after my brother almost broke your ankle, you made him a birthday cake," Simon smirked as he balanced his daughter on his hip. "It's not poisoned, is it?”

I giggled as Henry rolled his eyes.

"It was just as much my fault as his," I insisted. "It's just unfortunate for me that he's as solid as a brick wall."

"Sometimes those muscles do more harm than good," His mum smiled fondly, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Now, who wants cake? You'll stay for some, won't you?"

My mother leapt in before I could answer.

"Oh, that would be wonderful!”

There was a flurry of commotion as Marianne rushed off to get plates and the kids immediately started arguing over which piece of cake they wanted. I heard Henry softly clear his throat and, when he caught my eye, he nodded his head to the side. He didn't wait for me before sneaking off quietly down the stairs and I followed, but not before catching the knowing look my mother was throwing at me.

"Be careful," She warned quietly. "We're still in a pandemic and you're still vulnerable."

"I know," I assured her, biting back the urge to remind her that I wasn't a child and could look after myself. "I won't be long."

I rushed off after Henry before she could give me anymore advice or we caught anymore attention.

****

I found Henry just around the side of the house standing in quite a spectacular garden.

"Happy Birthday," I repeated with a smile, alerting him to my presence as I walked closer until I was the appropriate distance away. "Are you having a nice day?"

"I am, thank you," Henry returned my smile. "It's been as relaxing as can be expected in a house full of children, but it's been nice seeing them all try to make my day special. Until you came and upstaged everyone."

He playfully shook his head at me and I felt the nervousness fade away. He may be drop dead gorgeous, but he was the same Henry I'd been messaging.

"I didn't mean to," I insisted with a laugh. "You wouldn't shut up about the cake so I had to make it something special!"

Henry chuckled at that.

"Seriously though, I really appreciate it. Thank you very much," He grinned at me, making my cheeks heat up at his praise. "It must have taken you hours."

"It took all morning," I nodded with a smile, not admitting that I got up at just after six am to make sure I had enough time. "But it was really enjoyable actually. I haven't felt much motivation to bake fun things so it was nice having an excuse to get back into it."

"Oh, well then you're welcome."

His words were said with a smirk that made me roll my eyes, shaking my head, but just as I was about to tell him to be quiet a massive black and white ball of fur came bounding around the corner from the back of the house.

"Oh my gosh," I gasped. "Is this Cow?!"

Henry barked a laugh at that as the big dog ran around both of us in circles, his tail wagging at top speed.

"It's Kal," Henry corrected. "But yes, this is my dog. He's probably incredibly thrilled that he's getting to meet a new person for the first time in months."

I smiled and squatted down to wrap my arms around his neck.

"Awe, well, I know we're supposed to keep our distance from people's pets now too, but how could I resist you?" I cooed to the dog who danced in place while licking my face. "My goodness, you're the sweetest thing I've ever seen!"

"He is pretty great," Henry agreed, a hint of pride in his voice, but after a few more moments of me fussing over his companion he spoke again. "You know, I've always liked how Kal stole the attention away from me, but I think this might be the first time it's actually making me a tad bit jealous."

My head snapped up in his direction, worrying for just a moment that I'd actually upset him, but the soft smile on his face put me at ease. Nevertheless, I stood up, much to Kal's dismay.

"Wow, Henry, that's pretty self-centered," I teased. "I know it's your birthday, but that doesn't mean the attention needs to be on you every minute of the day."

"It doesn't? I was under the impression that was exactly what it meant."

"Nope," I shook my head. "It just means that you're one step closer to those senior discounts."

"Oh, please," Henry rolled his eyes. "Thirty-seven is really not that old."

"I was debating getting you a walking stick to go with the cake," I teased. "You know, because you might need it any day now."

Henry glared at me for a moment, but it quickly melted into a laugh.

"If I'm days away from needing a walking stick with these muscles," He paused briefly to flex his biceps which, despite making my breath catch in my throat at their size, earned an amused shake of my head. "You must already be a cripple with those weak ankles of yours."

"Oh my god, I can't believe you just did that," I laughed. "Trying to impress me again, are you?"

"I don't have to try," Henry smirked. "I can tell you're impressed."

I opened my mouth to protest, but resigned myself to a simple shrug as I crossed my arms.

"Well, yeah, okay, of course I'm impressed," I admitted with a smile. "You're sculpted like a Greek god."

"It really is mostly for practical reasons,"  He informed me, his usual humble side returning as he scratched Kal's head. "You can't wave swords around for hours without hurting yourself if you're not strong."

I cocked my head to the side suspiciously.

"I don't remember Superman using a sword."

"He didn't, but there was a lot of dangerous stunt work and did you see the suit they made me squeeze into? I had to be in top shape or it wouldn't have fit."

"Alright, that's fair," I nodded before a realization hit me. "Oh my gosh, do you even eat cake?"

Henry stared at me blankly for a moment before laughing.

"On my birthday? Of course I do!" He nodded. "I do try to keep a pretty healthy diet, but on holidays or special occasions I don't restrict myself too much."

"Thank goodness," I breathed a sigh of relief. "For a moment there I was panicking that I should have made you some kind of healthy protein cake creation instead."

He pulled a face at that suggestion, making me giggle at his over the top look of horror.

"If you're going to do cake, you have to do it right!"

"I'm glad you think so," I smiled. "Because there is a lot of sugar in that icing. It's probably about a thousand calories a slice."

I was being a bit dramatic, but it earned a full body laugh from Henry and I felt a warming in my chest at the sight. He was such a lovely person to be around. Lovely might seem like a boring description, but it fit him perfectly. He was genuine, funny, easy to tease and quick to tease back. He was constantly impressing me with how down to earth he was and he had a very calming presence that made all my anxiety melt away. He made me feel lighter.

He asked a few questions about how often I made such fancy cakes, about the different techniques involved and how I'd come up with the idea and for the first time in a few months it actually felt good to talk about my baking. I'd been really crushed by my failed attempt at opening a bakery. Sure, it wasn't really a sign of my skill or business management abilities, but opening a bakery just for it to be permanently closed a few months later was pretty defeating. It had left a bad taste in mouth in regards to baking anything that wasn't practical food.

We got lost in our conversation only pausing when a deep 'boof' came from the dog that had been circling us. He was staring in the direction of the gate so we followed his gaze and saw Henry's tiny little niece toddling towards us. A grin burst onto Henry's face, making my heart melt just a little bit.

"Hi, sweetheart," He cooed as she came over before lifting her arms to be picked up. Henry did so happily, resting her on his hip. "Did you enjoy the cake? It sure looks like you did!"

I laughed as he wiped some of the icing off of her cheek. It was all over her face as she smiled up at him and nodded. She shyly told him that it was yummy, eyeing me suspiciously the whole time.

"This is my friend, Brooke," Henry told her. "She made that cake for me. Can you say thank you?"

"Thank you..."

She still seemed wary, but I smiled in what I hoped was a reassuring manner.

"You're very welcome!" I told her. "Now, I can't remember what your Uncle Henry said your name was, can you remind me?"

"Amelia."

"It's lovely to meet you, Amelia!"

As I spoke, her mother appeared at the gate, relaxing in obvious relief when she saw Amelia in Henry's arms. She shouted over asking if we were okay with her, but Henry waved her off before turning his attention back to the child.

"Can you tell Brooke how old you are?"

She held up two chubby little fingers and I held back an 'awwe' at the sight.

"Two? Wow. Uncle Henry must seem pretty old to you then," I teased him earning a roll of his eyes when she wasn't looking. "He's thirty-seven!"

"Well, she is almost three," Henry clarified. "So she's almost as old as me really."

"No!" Amelia protested, disgust written all over her face. "I'm little!"

"You're little?" Henry gasped in mock shock. "Weren't you just telling me the other day that you're a big girl now?"

She shook her head insistently and I laughed at the pair of them.

"Don't worry, Amelia. He keeps trying to say that I'm as old as him too and I'm six whole years younger."

She giggled at that and looked up at Henry before scrunching her nose.

"You're old."

"Thanks for that," Henry laughed, shaking his head in my direction. "I'm not old, Amelia. Don't listen to her."

He tickled her tummy making her squirm and giggle in his arms. It would have been almost impossible not to laugh along with her, but once she got herself under control her face got very serious as she leaned in to whisper something in her uncle's ear.

"Oh, I'm not sure that will be possible," Henry chuckled earning a very over the top, but heart-wrenching pout from his niece. "Your birthday is a long way off, we might not all be here together by then."

From what he said, I had a rough idea of her request, but I gave Henry a questioning look, prompting him to elaborate.

"She wants to know if you would make her a birthday cake on her birthday."

"Oh, honey, I would love to make you a cake if you're still here on your birthday," I smiled. "When is it?"

She mumbled something incoherent as she rested her head on Henry's shoulder so I turned to him again for clarification.

"July twenty-ninth."

"My birthday is on August fourth," I told her. "That's pretty close together, hey? Maybe I can make a giant cake for both of us!"

Her eyes lit up at that suggestion.

"A fairy princess one?"

"Is that what you would like?" I asked as she nodded frantically. "Then it's a deal. If we're still here on you birthday, I’ll make us a giant fairy princess cake to share."

She grinned at that information and wiggled to be put down before running off through the gate under Henry's watchful eye, presumably to tell her parents the exciting news.

"What a sweetheart," I smiled. "She's adorable."

"She is and she knows it," Henry chuckled. "But she's quite quiet and calm so she tends to get overshadowed by her brothers who have an endless amount of energy. It's been hard for them having to stay home so much so they end up with most of the attention because if they're left to their own devices someone usually gets hurt."

"It must be hard not being able to go to the park and burn off all that energy."

"Exactly," Henry nodded. "But luckily the garden is fairly big so there's a lot of football and playing chase with Kal, anything that lets them blow off some steam, but Amelia doesn't like those things so I've been trying to spend some time with her too. She loves reading so we've been doing a lot of that while the boys wreck havoc."

"That's very sweet," I smiled as my heart fluttered at the thought of the giant, muscled man in front of me sitting with his tiny niece curled up in his lap as he read to her. "She must love that."

"She does and really, I do too," Henry admitted. "Don't get me wrong, I love running around with the boys, but it's nice to have those quiet moments too. It's one positive thing that's come out of this whole mess, getting to really bond with them all."

"I've felt the same with my niece," I nodded. "She's probably about the same age as Alfie and I always made an effort to see her as much as possible, but it's nice to have an excuse to be around all the time and really get to know her little personality."

"It is and honestly, I can't wait to have a family of my own," He confessed with a sheepish smile. "So it's nice to get some practice in."

A smirk slid onto my face.

"Well, after seeing you with Amelia, I'm sure you'll be a super dad."

Henry shook his head at me and sighed dramatically, but despite his incredible acting skills, he couldn't help, but laugh.

"You're hilarious," He told me, his words dripping with sarcasm as I grinned proudly at my joke. "Always have a pun ready to go, don't you?"

"They just come to me," I giggled. "It's a gift."

"If you weren't such a good baker, I'd suggest you do stand up comedy."

His words were once again laced with sarcasm, but I just smirked.

"Maybe I'll do both," I shrugged. "Maybe that was part of my downfall, there wasn't enough comedy to go along with the pastries. I should have set up an open mic."

"Ah, yes, because it's well-known that the British just love the awkwardness of amateur comedians."

"True, that might be a bit too cringey," I admitted with a wrinkle of my nose. "But I could have at least come up with some clever, play-on-word names for everything. What a missed opportunity."

"It was, especially for someone as clearly multi-talented as you."

I couldn't help, but laugh at his flat delivery, but quickly forced it into a glare.

"Alright, that's enough sarcasm out of you," I playfully scolded him. "We both know that I'm at least funnier than you and really, that's all that counts."

"I think we both actually know that it's the other way around," Henry raised an eyebrow. "Or was that another one of your jokes?"

I shook my head at his teasing, but before I could argue, Henry's brother shouted over to us.

"Henry! Brooke! If you want some cake, come get it now before George eats it all!"

A tiny voice shouted his protests at being blamed as Henry and I laughed.

"Well, it sounds like we should get back before I don't even get to try my own cake," Henry chuckled. "But thank you, Brooke. All jokes aside, I really appreciate that you put so much effort in to making me that cake."

"Don't worry about it," I assured him, feeling my stomach flutter at the genuine kindness in his eyes. "Just because we're all in lockdown, doesn't mean that you can't have a nice day. I'm glad I got to help make that happen."

Henry smiled and nodded understandingly before walking past me towards the gate. We'd stayed pretty much six feet apart the whole time we'd been talking, but he broke the rule as he walked by, brushing his hand just briefly against mine. It was subtle and fleeting, but his pinky wrapped around mine and squeezed gently.

He didn't even stop walking so as fast as it happened, it was over. Perhaps I was just feeling rather touch starved from not being near anyone but my family since our last meeting, but the brief connection left me buzzing. I'd always assumed the novels and movies that describe the electric sensation when two people touch were being dramatic, but it suddenly seemed very real. My skin felt like it was on fire and it was suddenly like my mind had gone completely blank of anything that wasn't how soft his skin felt.

Kal broke me out of my trance with a lick to my hand and I took a deep breath to get myself back down to earth. I thought to myself how embarrassing it would have been for Henry to see what an effect his simple action had on me, but when I looked up and saw him standing by the gate with a smirk on his face I was pretty sure that he was very much aware.

[fanficparker]

Faking, Falling > Part 14

Harrison Osterfield x Reader (Fake dating! Unrequited love switcheroo!)

Word count: ~2.2k words

Warning: Swearing, slight nudity 👀, Major FlOOf, Harrison's Black Monday T-shirt is actually cursed...

Summary: A series of fortunate events...

<< PART 13 [ MASTERLIST ] PART 15 >>

Laughing like this was easy, maybe because he made it easy for you. Harrison never once tried to come up with anything said or heard last night. No questions asked, no answers required. It was considerate of him to not pick up the topic again or pressure you to hastily make a serious decision. Neither he acted like one of those boys who would distance themselves and end all ties, just because the other person needed time to think or didn't feel the same way.

Harrison rather gave you space to breathe and to think. He unknowingly prevented your confusing feelings to swirl into a vortex of stupidity, ending up eating its own tail. He kept on talking and talking about almost everything except that, but it was amazing to hear him speak, opening up to you. You sat there, legs crossed on the cool marble floor of your balcony, back comfortably rested against the wall, a warm cup of tea in your hands while Harrison was sitting exactly opposite to you, back pressed against the other wall. His tea was long forgotten, kept on the floor beside him, cooling down abandoned. He was sitting almost six feet apart from you and a lot of things he was speaking were stupid and didn't make much sense. Yet his accent was such a playful tune, you could have sat there all day simply to listen to the music it carried and smile. But as the tea in your cup finished, the music stopped along with it.

"Why don't you tell something? I am the only one speaking," He chuckled, finally pausing his rambling. He picked up the abandoned cup and sipped the tea only to hiss at the distaste and eventually discarded it again.

"…What should I talk about?" You spoke as your hands struggled to push away the little strands of hair that were tickling at your skin.

"Anything..." He trailed off, thinking for a topic himself. You tilted your head to the side, looking at the indigo coloured sky turning darker with each passing moment, finger resting below your chin.

Harrison's eyes settled over your side profile. He couldn't help but admire the way the dark sky complimented the fairy lights beside your head, your skin glowing from the shine. Your hairs were flowing freely in the wind, the rim of your glasses falling on your nose, lips slightly parted, a finger placed over your lower lip. He wanted to capture the moment. He searched for his phone only to find it kept beside the discarded tea cup. His thumb swiped up to open the camera and he looked at you through the digital screen.

In case you didn't want to see him after tomorrow he could at least have a memorandum of all the time you were his girlfriend. Fake girlfriend. The thought wasn't a pleasant one yet he was smiling brightly. The soft sound of the camera shutter snapped you out of your head and look at him confused.

"Did you just... click my picture?" You asked blinking in confusion. He hesitantly bounced his Samsung in his hand as heat rushed to his cheeks and heart almost exploded. He struggled to put it in his pocket, only to realise that his shorts were devoid of any.

"Show me!" There was nothing but playfulness in your voice as you got up and rushed towards him. Still, he couldn't stop feeling like a thief caught red-handed. You dropped to your knees in front of him and snatched off his phone, looking at the picture yourself. He just couldn't stop blushing.

"You are saved Osterfield. If it was bad, I would have kicked you out," You laughed grabbing his hand and placing the phone on his palm. As your hand left his, he curled his fingers around the device. You were about to stand up when a thought crawled inside your brain.

"We should have a picture together," The words just fell out of your tongue.

"Yes! We should definitely have a picture together. Why didn't I think of this earlier?" You reinforced your own idea, eyes wide and excited. He gulped slowly, licking his lips.

"Right," He exhaled. You sat beside him, your side pressed against his as he flipped the camera and stretched out his hand. He looked up at the screen along with you and produced a smile but the camera couldn't capture your face properly due to the lights on the corner, the spot where you were currently sitting below.

"Wait." You mumbled, getting up. He almost shivered in the loss of warmth he had no idea he was enjoying. But then right there he lost his breath somewhere in his throat as you sat over his thigh, snaking an arm around his neck.

"This will be good," You grinned looking at him and at the camera. Your hand travelled to his face and you pulled off his glasses keeping it aside on the floor, along with yours.

Good? Are you kidding me? He realised he lost his words do.

"Click the picture Haz!" You squealed and pressed your face to the side of his like everything wasn't enough already. He breathed in and almost dropped his phone but then successfully captured three or four pictures. As he kept his camera down, you threw both your arms around his neck, looking at his face.

His hands awkwardly circled your waist, too delicately for your liking as his eyes looked at yours. Your smile vanished away when you dared to look down at those pink lips. He was breathing with his mouth; his lips were hanging open.

You lost it right there. You dipped your head in, capturing his lips in your own. You broke the kiss even before Harrison could comprehend the contact to glance at his face. His unconsciously closed eyes fluttered open. The air was too thick to even breathe properly, his chest was almost constricted. He stared back at you in shock and surprise. You spoke nothing, instead pressed your forehead and nose against his, looking at his eyes.

"Couldn't resist. Sorry," A breathless chuckle escaped your lips, the warm breath hitting right onto Harrison's lips.

"Mind if I kiss you again... more properly?" You whispered against him, lips almost touching, desperate for any contact.

"I... never stopped you," His eyes flickered down and the next moment your lips were over his again. You gripped the back of his neck, one of his hands on your waist tightened while the other travelled to hold your face.

Before you knew he had turned the tables and suddenly he was dominating the kiss. He lightly pushed your head back as his tongue entered your mouth. Your nose was bumping every time he tilted his head and moved his chin up and down. You tasted of tea and of crisps and he surely did too, yet your breath tasted new to him and he couldn't help but devour.

Your hands rested on his chest; you pushed him back breaking the kiss. You were panting, almost breathless. He looked at you with his flushed face, chest heaving. He wanted to kiss you again and again till his lips went sore. God, how much had he waited for this moment! But he knew it wasn't the right time for this, so he instead pulled you closer, pressing your forehead against his.

"We---"

You interrupted him with your finger resting on his lips.

"Don't talk... Not yet." You whispered, breathless, against his mouth.

***

Sitting with your parents on the dining table was just them talking about how you have spent all the time with Harrison. It would have been one great embarrassing discussion if your mind wasn't busy thinking of a method to come into all types of conclusions in just one day. Harrison's flight to London was early morning, specifically at 09:00 am the day after tomorrow whereas your flight was after a week.

If thirteen days were enough to fall in love with Harrison Osterfield, you were afraid— a week's time was enough for him to change his mind. The thought scared you. A reason why you couldn't make yourself talk about the kiss or your feelings for him in general.

Love is scary. You had known that. Everything about falling in love was scary, yet you had thrown yourself in that tunnel. No wonder they said falling in love and not rising in love. They also said love makes you a philosopher... And makes you laugh at your own helplessness.

You chuckled and choked on your food. Tears pricked on the corner of your eyes. Your relentless coughing shifted everyone's attention from the food and the banter to you. Your dad was quick to hand you a glass of water that you were chugging for life while Harrison was rubbing your back. Your mum was busy scolding you for being careless in her concern and frustration mixed tone. But the coughing surely made your parents forget about the 'lost times'. You were anyway going to spend a week in Harrison's absence with them, they had nothing to be grumpy about. Right now, you were only thinking about how to... not overthink.

Little did you know, everything was more conflicting and difficult for him. That boy just had a days’ time left with you. He had no intention of quitting when he was literally one foot away from the finish line. Slipping and losing at this point would be nothing less than a tragedy especially when the price of winning was you.

***

You came back early from the evening walk. You slammed the door behind you as you entered your room, sitting on the edge of the bed. It was almost a week, you and Harrison had started going for a walk after dinner, the day after he realised how lazy he was getting and how fast he was losing his abs. And since today your mum and dad decided to join both of you, you all ended up playing badminton in the lawn instead. It was even scarier to consider how much your parents had accepted Harrison as a part of their family. You almost couldn't breathe and excused yourself of getting tired and rushed inside.

The cool air of the AC was unable to dry off the sweat or kill off the discomfort in your gut. Your eyes landed on the crumbled piece of fabric lying on the chair in the corner of the room. It was Harrison's t-shirt. He hadn't learned to fold and keep his clothes neatly yet. You were sure the chair would have been a pile of all his clothes if you hadn't slapped his clothes on his face regularly. Yet, one of his t-shirts was still lying. You walked up to it almost immediately and picked it up. You looked over to the mirror on your dressing table, your eyes travelled up and down at your own figure and then the t-shirt in your hand. The thought of seeing yourself in his clothes settled in your consciousness. Biting at your lower lip, you lifted your own top off your head and placed it on the chair, inserting your head and limbs on the holes of his Bad Monday t-shirt.

The door opened with a thud and your heart skipped a beat. Harrison had entered the room and saw you half-naked, the fabric had barely reached your neck.

"Shit!" He cursed and instantly turned his front to the other side but a squeal had already left your throat.

You shoved the material down your belly, covering your chest with your hands even when the soft fabric had already covered you. The thing was... you weren't even wearing a bra. The tips of your ears were pink and hot with embarrassment complimenting with the skin of your face. You were almost panting; your heart was beating like you just ran a fucking marathon. Harrison was still standing with his back facing you, his body was stiff just like the tips of his ears. The room had gone into radio silence, the air was thick and uncomfortable. You exhaled loudly in an attempt to cut through the tension but it only made him flinch lightly.

"H-h-h—" You stammered, then bit the inside of your cheek. Calm. Down. You tried again, this time taking in a deep breath. You released your hands but then couldn't figure out what to do with them, so you instead clasped and unclasped your fists in constant reassurance.

"H-Harrison."

"I... I will just use the bathroom," He uttered in a single breath, words almost over-lapping. He hurriedly rushed inside the bathroom looking to the side but not you. You were actually grateful for that. The sound of the bathroom door slamming made your heart lurch and all the air to rush back into your lungs. You closed your eyes momentarily and plopped on the bed. You laid on your side and shoved the covers till your chin, slowly closing your eyes again.

Guess, you'll just pretend to sleep...

______________________

OPINIONS ON THIS CHAPTER???

A/N: I am changing Jerry's birthday to Jerry's wedding reception for the sake of the story. Sorry, for any inconveniences.

TAGLIST:  @asmilinghopefullromantic​ // @just-a-littlebit-of-everything​ // @xximaweirdoxx​ // @jjasalem​ // @spidergirl007​ // @wizliar​ // @justasmisunderstoodasloki​ // @veronicas-littleworld​ // @acceptance07​ // @ghostspf​ // @screeching-student-unknown​ // @fanficscuziranout​ // @miraclesoflove​ // @trustfundparker​ // @tikapollak​ // @yourmum792​ // @skymoonandstardust​ // @nxdxh* // @httplayer​ // @peterparkerbabyyy* // @lizzyosterfield​ // @tomhaz​ // @softholand​ // @girl1sstuff​ // @thenoddingbunny-blog​ // @starlight-starks​

[moipale]

DP Side Hoes Week Day 7: Cujo/Reveal

her son, knelt beside a ghost ; ao3 link

The ghost dog is a well-known specter among Amity Park’s ghost hunters. It has personally invaded Maddie’s lab time and time enough for her to recognize its ectosignature in her radars, and the Red Huntress has been observed to treat it with particular violence.

Despite how much of a nuisance it is, the dog is not a particularly dangerous ghost. Maddie and Jack can contain it relatively easily, and it responds to a fair amount of the commands living dogs do. To be fair, it doesn’t always obey those commands, but it doesn’t outright ignore them, which is a step further than they’ve gotten with most other ghosts.

No, the ghost dog would be more of a pest than a threat, and as such a target for destruction or dissection, were it not for one factor: that it seems particularly attached to Phantom.

When provoked, the ghost dog can be truly formidable. What kind of destruction might it reap, were Phantom to command it? How many lives might it take before she and Jack could contain it? Aside from the potential dangers, if she and Jack were to dispose of the dog, what might they lose in regards to Phantom?

It’s rare to catch the ghost boy in one place for very long, but the few times he’s been spotted engaging with the dog have been the longest he’s stayed in one area to date. Neither Maddie or Jack forsook those opportunities. First, they attempted to catch him. When that proved fruitless, they took to observation, and what a gold mine such an endeavor begot.

Danny Phantom, in his moments spent with the ghost dog, does not display the same territorial, threatening behavior he does when in combat with other invading ghosts. Rather, he regards the dog with an apparent fondness similar to that of a human with their pet. He plays fetch with it. It’s baffling, and a research opportunity like no other.

Maddie has countless pages of data, extrapolations, and theories as to the relationships between ghosts. She has analyses that factor in volatility, goals, obsession, the differences between humanoid and animalistic ghosts and their relationships with and between each other, what factors are conducive to a relationship, what factors detract from one. Most of it is hypothesis. Aside from the occasional ghostly team-ups, which are admittedly short-lived and based upon hostile intention, Phantom is the only sapient ghost on record to have been observed positively interacting with another ghost.

The phone rings upstairs. Maddie starts, her tunnel vision clearing—she’d been focusing too diligently on her stacks of notes. A glance at the clock tells her its been much longer than she’d realized that she was sitting there, scouring every detail, searching for a new piece of evidence to tie her hypotheses together.

Across the room, Jack starts to get up, but Maddie stops him with a wave of her hand. “I’ll get it,” she offers, already heading for the stairs. “I need a break.”

She picks it up on the last ring, and is treated to the familiar tones of the Casper High School secretary, whose voice trembles in that way it always does when he’s calling about ghost-related troubles. It doesn’t tremble quite enough for the incident to be very serious, though, and Maddie bites back a sigh. At least it isn’t another Danny issue.

He stutters out a harried explanation: the ghost dog has taken over the gym, and is preventing Ms. Tetslaff from teaching. How fitting, Maddie thinks, and she cuts off the man’s nervous ramblings. “Of course. We’ll be there right away to take care of it. Don’t worry.”

All it takes is a quick call of, “Jack, there’s a ghost at the high school!” for her husband to come running up, weapons already in hand. She smiles at him—his enthusiasm has never stopped being endearing—and matches his pace as he heads for the door.

——————

When they get there, they’re redirected in short order to the school gym, which reeks of ghoul before they get anywhere near it. Maddie’s sensors pick it up immediately, though she looks at them in confusion before turning to the secretary, who leads them nervously toward the doors.

“I thought you said only the ghost dog was here? I’m picking up two ghosts.” At that, the man seems to shrivel even further, his anxiety mounting.

“That’s what I was told, ma’am,” he squeaks out, and then gestures to the doors, which have loomed up before them. A flimsy barricade has been erected, which would prove as absolutely no obstacle to a ghost, but which probably made the school officials feel better. Maddie doesn’t comment on it.

“Well, we can take it from here. Thank you for escorting us,” she says firmly, and he takes the dismissal to heart, retreating so swiftly he almost jogs back the way they came.

Without further ado, Jack scatters the barrier—made up of mostly chairs and desks—before slamming the doors open, barging into the gym, Maddie following quickly behind.

She gets an answer to her question immediately. Standing before them in the center of the gym, and interfering with their equipment as usual, is Danny. Around him runs the ghost dog, circling him and yipping happily. Danny’s clearly noticed their entrance—he gives his father a little wave, makes eye contact with her—but he doesn’t seem concerned at their presence, nor does he run to them for protection. He doesn’t even seem scared, which, for a boy who’s notoriously terrified of ghosts, is huge. Maddie has to squash her pride as the mother in her threatens to overwhelm the scientist.

That said, Danny is standing next to a dangerous spectral entity, and so the moment she collects herself, she calls out, “Danny, dear, get away from that ectoplasmic scum!” She strides forward, removing a Fenton Blaster from her belt as she does, aiming for the dog.

“Mom, wait!” Danny protests. She wouldn’t have stopped, but the dog finally notices her, yips, and skitters behind Danny’s legs, cowering. “Come on, he’s not going to hurt you. Cujo’s just a dog!”

“Cujo?” Maddie questions, looking sharply at her son.

“That’s his name. Look, it’s on his collar.” Danny kneels next to the dog and reaches for it. Maddie tenses, her finger on the trigger, but the dog sits pretty, letting Danny pull it forward to show off the tag on its collar.

On the front is, curiously, the logo for Axion Labs. On the back, etched in neat letting, is the name Cujo, though the validity of what Danny said is the farthest thing from her mind at the moment. No, the important detail here is that Danny—her son, who is terrified of ghosts and wants nothing to do with the family business—is comfortable enough with this dog that he can tell her with complete confidence not to attack it. Not only that, but the fact that he knows its name tells her he’s been around it before, most possibly on multiple occasions—and he hadn’t breathed a word of it to her or Jack.

“Danny-boy, don’t touch it! It’ll contaminate you!” Jack levels a gun far larger than necessary at both Danny and the ghost dog. “Stay still, pal, I’ll get it!”

Danny’s eyes widen. Before Jack can do anything, however, Maddie reaches out and pushes the barrel of the gun up, so the shot fires high, missing Danny and… Cujo entirely.

“Hold on, dear. It hasn’t attacked yet,” she says, placating her husband. Danny shoots her a grateful look, a small smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. It hits her, suddenly, how little she’s seen her son these past few years. This one small, tentative smile seems monumental, laid before her so simply. How long has it been since she’d listened to Danny when he asked her to back down?

How long has it been since they’ve talked, without a ghost standing between them?

“Guys, really,” Danny says, drawing her out of her thoughts. “Cujo’s just a dog. If I ask, he’ll go back to the Ghost Zone.” He says it casually, but Maddie snaps to attention. Danny didn’t say, “if we ask,” or “if you ask.” He said “if I ask,” like the dog has some attachment to him. Like Cujo is his.

“Look,” Danny says, and she watches him walk over to the side of the gym where an equipment cart is parked. From it, he pulls a softball. Cujo still sits where Danny had left it, but perks up when he raises the ball. “Go, fetch!” Danny calls, tossing the ball towards the other end of the gym. It soars over Cujo’s head, and the little ghost yips and tears after it, claws clicking on the gym floor.

As Maddie watches Danny watch the ghost, she sees how relaxed his shoulders are, the soft smile playing on his lips. He looks at Cujo with fondness, the picture of a boy and his dog. A human and their pet.

For all her focus has been on her ghost hunting, how has she missed her son growing up? How has she not noticed the way he’s grown into his body: lean muscle, comfortable slouch, a confident set to his shoulders. The last she’d looked, really looked, he’d seemed so small and meek.

How long has she observed Danny Phantom, studying that same figure?

Her arm droops by her side, gun pointed uselessly at the floor. She feels boneless, all of a sudden, watching her son walk calmly across the gym floor, ready to meet the ghost dog as it careens back toward him, softball held awkwardly in its tiny mouth. Danny and Danny. Fenton and Phantom. A boy and his dog.

Against the light of the late afternoon sun, streaming in from one of the far windows, Danny’s hair is lit up like a beacon. Haloed, it appears almost white.

How many times has she caught his eye in the darkness and thought she saw a hint of green?

Danny grunts as Cujo jumps at his chest, but he catches the little dog, prying the softball from its mouth with some difficulty. “Hah, give that to me, you little rascal,” he says, talking to it with the same tone of voice Maddie’s father used to talk to her childhood dog with.

Her son, knelt beside a ghost, playing with it.

Fondness. A human and their pet.

Confident set to his shoulders.

“Okay, boy. Time to go home.” The wag of Cujo’s tail slows a little. “Yeah. Go on home, buddy.” He makes a little shooing motion with his hands, and, though the dog looks disappointed, it turns tail and goes.

And Maddie lets it.

[hayateart]

Sound of Darkness

Giveaway prize for @tha-pumpkinqueen who requested horror.

Atsushi and Akutagawa get lost in a cave maze. Chuuya and Dazai set out to search for them. They find something else as well or rather something else finds them.

Read under the cut or on AO3

The entrance to the tunnel was well hidden from the public view. It took them hours to find it and when they finally did, they would have ignored it except for the claw marks right at the very edge of the stone wall.

“Is this a trap?” Chuuya asked looking into the darkness.

“I don’t know,” Dazai answered and there was nothing that could scare Chuuya more than that simple statement.

Dazai always knew such things. He always had a plan. He was the brains and Chuuya was the muscle. If the brains weren’t sure about something, how could the muscle comply? Apparently it could since when Dazai informed him ‘this is where the kids have gone to’ Chuuya entered the tunnel without hesitation.

The tunnel in question was part of as of yet unexplored cave system that appeared at one of Yokohama shores after a recent earthquake. It was classifies as dangerous and people were forbidden from entering. The main entrance was sealed with a metal door but nobody knew about a second entrance, only a few meters away, until just recently when a couple of drunk businessmen decided it would be fun to go inside and get lost. The Armed Detective Agency was contacted by their worried wives.

As it turned out one of the businessmen was an undercover mafia agent. To find them the Mafia sent Akutagawa and the ADA sent Atsushi. It was supposed to be a quick mission, more of a test to see if the new Double Black could work in situations that didn’t involve fights to the last blood.

They both haven’t been heard from since.

The tunnel was dark and damp. The light of the torches that both Chuuya and Dazai brought along wasn’t enough to lit all the dark corners and anything that could hide within them. So close to the shore you could hear the waves and screeches of seagulls but the sound was distorted. Water hitting the shore was like whispers, telling the world secrets you didn’t want to be known and seagulls were the screaming voices of the damned begging for forgiveness. Chuuya and Dazai pushed on anyway, further into the cave, and soon enough the sound was gone. The deafening silence that greeted them was, however, even worse.

“I don’t even have any service on my phone,” said Dazai.

“Can you fucking not?!” Chuuya screeched back. “Give a guy a warning next time if you decide to say something. You nearly gave me a heart attack. It was so fucking quiet and then you just pop your stupid comment like it’s nothing!”

“Oh, are you scared, Chuuya?”

Dazai’s comment was supposed to be teasing. Nobody would expect Mafia’s greatest fighter to be stressed about some tunnels, even though he himself was clearly starting to feel nervous. Chuuya could see it in the way he held himself. His shoulders tense and eyes scanning the walls intently. Considering everything, Dazai’s question came out as concerned.

First, some businessmen go missing but that’s nothing unusual – people are stupid, of course they wouldn’t think to mark their path so they can enter and leave what is basically a maze safely. However, Atsushi and Akutagawa are not. Deep slashes formed by claws or maybe Rashoumon attacks marked walls and floor, leading them hopefully closer to the missing kids. Still, there was no sign of them and the marks grew more and more seldom as they went further inside.

“I’m not fucking scared,” answered Chuuya, obviously scared and hiding it badly. “But I am worried,” he admitted after a while. “The kids have been gone for an entire day already.”

“They’re fine.” Dazai waved away his worries. “Worst case scenario they argued, split paths and now they’re looking for each other because they don’t want to leave the other behind in a scary cave. All we need to do is find them and lead them out.”

“And hope we don’t argue as well and share their fate?” Chuuya joked back.

��Exactly.”

*

Further into the caves they went. The path before them split a couple of times but they always found a helpful clue in form of a slashed arrow. Chuuya’s torch run out of batteries ages ago and they were forced to share Dazai’s. One light made the tunnels seem darker and even more uninviting.

The gentle rustle in the background returned. This time, however, it sounded nothing like the waves. Not even like the whispers. It was slithering. Something was moving towards them, Chuuya was sure of it. At least for a split second. Then the sound disappeared like it was never there and Dazai didn’t even seem to notice anything. He just stared at Chuuya surprised, when the redhead stopped in his tracks.

“It’d be hard to fight here.” Chuuya decided to point out when Dazai looked at him, a silent question in his eyes. “The walls are too close together, there would be little force behind the attack.”

“You could always use your ability.”

Chuuya shook his head.

“It could disturb the rock, the whole thing would cave in on us. Let’s hope there’s nothing we have to fight here.”

“What would there be?”

If it was meant to put Chuuya’s worries to rest, it didn’t work. The slithering came back and it was closer. Still, Dazai didn’t seem to notice a thing.

“I don’t know.”

*

The slithering was following them. Chuuya shared this information with Dazai, fully aware that the other man would make fun of him for being paranoid. Dazai, however, surprised his partner by simply nodding and assuring:

“I can’t hear anything but if I do, I’ll let you know.”

Things must have been really bad if Dazai didn’t take an opportunity to make fun of him. They turned even worse, when they found blood.

There wasn’t a lot of it. Just a few drops really, and under normal circumstances it wouldn’t worry them much at all but these were no normal circumstances and it worried the hell out of Chuuya and possibly Dazai as well.

“No sign of struggle.” Dazai observed kneeling down on the ground. “No sign of anything, really. It’s just blood. There aren’t even any sharp rocks you can cut yourself on.”

“So how did it happen? Where did the blood come from?”

“I know about as much as you do, Chuuya. Just because I’m smarter don’t expect me to know all the answers.”

*

Dazai’s torch died a few hours later. They had to rely on Chuuya’s lighter to show them the way.

“We should go back. We won’t find them this way,” said Chuuya.

“We should have gone back when we lost your torch.”

*

“Atsushi!”

Dazai ran to the unconscious boy. Atsushi lay half slumped over the wall, his hair dirty and stuck to the forehead, his mouth chapped showing first signs of dehydration – something even his tiger-power heightened healing abilities couldn’t save him from – but completely unharmed. Dazai patted him on the cheek a few times to wake him up. When that didn’t work, he tried slapping. When that didn’t work either, he tried checking his pulse.

“He’s alive but his heartbeat is very slow. Chuuya, how long have we been here?”

Chuuya wasn’t sure. Just like their torches, their phones already died and he never carried a watch. A mistake, one could say.

“I charged my phone right before we set out. That means at least twelve hours.”

“Atsushi might be just exhausted. Lets take him and look for Akutagawa.”

“Dazai, the claw marks disappeared a while ago.”

“I know.”

“The slithering is getting closer.”

Dazai did not answer. He walked straight ahead leaving Chuuya to carry the unconscious boy.

*

Chuuya’s lighter soon run out of gas. The only thing lighting their path now was the soft glow of his ability as he used it to lessen the weight of the boy on his back.

Chuuya was growing exhausted himself. The endless walking and constant use of his ability were finally taking their toll on him. Dazai didn’t seem to fare any better. But he didn’t want to stop. They haven’t found Akutagawa yet and the slithering sounded now like it was right behind them, so he pushed Dazai to walk in front of them. If something decided to attack, Chuuya was the better fighter out of the two.

But nothing attacked and that made it somehow even worse. Chuuya kept looking behind and he saw nothing except for the darkness.

Dazai, while he kept his distance in the beginning, was now only a few centimeters away. If Chuuya decided to lean towards him his head would land on Dazai’s back and he wouldn’t even need to stretch. He didn’t do that of course. He was not touching Dazai unless absolutely necessary. Besides, that would make him drop the kid on his back.

Speaking of his back, Chuuya looked behind again. The was nothing there.

“Are you still hearing that sound?”

Chuuya nodded.

“It’s really close now,” he whispered back.

“I can’t hear a thing. Maybe it’s an ability?”

“Maybe.”

While he voiced his agreement, Chuuya was doubtful of that theory. If an ability user was behind them, waiting for an attack, they’d have done it ages ago. At this point they were both exhausted but that only meant whoever pursued them would be exhausted as well. Unless it wasn’t human. And the reason Chuuya could hear it while Dazai couldn’t was because Chuuya wasn’t entirely human himself.

He really, really did not want to do this, but he felt there was no other choice.

“I need to check that sound,” Chuuya announced.

He didn’t wait for Dazai to protest and try to stop him. Gently, he put Atsushi on the ground ordering Dazai to watch over him.

“Use your knife to mark your way and find us. Be careful,” Dazai asked. For once he knew better than to argue with Chuuya.

“Thanks.” Chuuya smiled uneasily. “And… Dazai, take care of yourself, too. I don’t want to go back to two corpses.”

It was meant as a joke to lighten up the atmosphere. Nobody laughed. Instead Dazai reached out and hugged him briefly. The light of Chuuya’s ability blinked out drowning them all in the darkness. With nobody there to see them, Chuuya returned the hug.

“Osamu, I mean it,” he whispered. “I need to find you back here safe and sound.”

“We’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

*

He didn’t get very far. The source of the slithering sound was still close, but he decided to ignore it in favor of another obstacle in his way.

Just like Atsushi, he found Akutagawa slumped on the ground. Exhausted and unconscious. Unlike Atushi, Akutagawa awoke when Chuuya slapped him gently.

“Chuuya?”

“You stupid fucker, why did you two separate?! We’ve been looking all over for you two!”

The worry he felt came out as anger, something he should probably work on more in the future but right now he was too relieved and too tired to care. Tears of relief found their way into the corners of Chuuya’s eyes and he had to blink rapidly to push them back.

Even in the faint light Chuuya could see that Akutagawa was not well. He was dirty all over and had a few drops of dried blood stuck to his chin. Probably the source of blood they’d found a while ago. However, it was his coat that was in the worst state. Rashoumon was shredded. There was no other word for it. All that was left of the beautiful and powerful coat was just ribbons. It would heal, given enough time, but for now it left Akutagawa defenseless.

“We need to get you out of here. Dazai has Atsushi. We’ll get back to them and leave these tunnels together.”

“You shouldn’t have come looking for us.”

“What?” Chuuya grabbed Akutagawa’s shoulders. “We had to, we couldn’t leave you here.”

“There’s something here and it doesn’t like ability users.”

The slithering was now right behind Chuuya. The hair on the back of his neck stood up in warning. If he turned around, Chuuya was sure he would now see whatever was following them all this time.

He was right, it wasn’t an ability user, it was something much older and much more sinister. Something that wouldn’t get tired hunting them for days because that’s what it existed for.

Chuuya, didn’t even get a chance to react. Tendrils of pure darkness crawled his skin grabbing and forcefully taking hold of his ability. It was worse than Corruption. He could at least guide Corruption to destroy his enemies. Now he absolutely lost control over everything. His power exploded inside of him. Chuuya felt as if it was tearing him apart, tearing his mind apart. Arahabaki was clawing at the bars of the cage inside his mind, howling and in pain just like his host.

Chuuya now realized why the thing was waiting so long to attack. Exhausted mind cannot defend itself.

The ground started shaking around them when Chuuya’s ability broke free from under his skin. Loose rocks fell in a deadly rain from above.

One of them fell straight on Chuuya’s head, instantly knocking him out.

*

When Chuuya came to, he was surrounded by complete darkness. The activation of his ability revealed that what he feared most just happened. In the faint red glow Chuuya saw rocks blocking the tunnel from both ends. There was a cave in.

It was a miracle they survived. Akutagawa was sitting cross legged, eyes unfocused and staring into his lap. He barely reacted when Chuuya regained his consciousness.

“It leaves you alone when you’re not awake. I don’t think it can take hold of an unconscious mind,” he informed.

Chuuya tried moving but found both of his legs trapped under the rock. Trying to get them out brought a sharp pang of pain paralyzing his whole body. His legs remained trapped, possibly broken. He couldn’t use his ability to get himself free in fear of collapsing the rest of the ceiling.

“That idiot Dazai is there. He’ll figure what happened and find a solution.”

“If he gets to us in time,” Akutagawa answered. “Rashoumon is healing and you’re awake. It’ll look for us again and I don’t think it’ll let us survive this time.”

In the silence that fell after Akutagawa proclaimed their dark future, Chuuya could hear a gentle slithering sound, getting closer and closer with every heartbeat. He closed his eyes and swallowed. Maybe if he didn’t use his ability, the thing wouldn’t be able to find them.

Right before the red glow faded, he could see the tendrils of darkness crawling along the rocks. It was already too late.

[simmonsofshield]

Broken, Mended Chapter 3

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Sam Wilson x Reader (platonic)

Summary: After breaking off an engagement, Y/N may have possibly hit rock bottom. But she doesn’t have time to think about it because she gets deployed to Iraq. Leaving their daughter with her friend, Sam Wilson, she’s gone for a year. She doesn’t like talking about her ex-fiance and is unsure if she’ll ever be able to love again. What happens a certain Captain is his literal doppleganger?

Words: 1600+

Warnings: swears, that’s about it.

A/N:  This is for @ussgallifreyfics​​ 550 follower writing challenge!  Takes place during Civil War.

tag list is open

Y/N exits the building and begins down the street. Just then her phone rings.

“Sam.” “Holy shit. I saw what happened on TV. Are you okay?” “Yeah, I’m fine. Got thrown back by the blast but what else is new?” “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” “Yes, Sergeant. I was here as a recommendation of... well, I’m not sure who. But they wanted someone to have a bird’s eye view of the conference,” a pause, “so how’s New York? Mr. Stark treating you well?” “I don’t appreciate the tone, Private.” “Sorry, dad.” she sasses, “but really. You leave with just a note and haven’t said anything since I texted you. What are you not telling me?” “I can’t now, over the phone.” “Then when, Sam?” “Later, promise.” “Okay.” “Bye.” “Yeah.” and she hangs up.

Walking against the mass of people still trying to leave the scene, Y/N bumps into someone. “Sorry,” she looks up, “oh my god, you’re-”

She puts her hand out, “Sharon Carter, SHIELD. And you are?”

“Y/N L/N, Air Force. I was sent here to look over the event from above,” she points to the building where she had been before chaos happened, “didn’t exactly go as planned.”

Sharon nods knowingly, “Yeah. Well, since you’re here, do you wanna help out?”

She arches an eyebrow, “Of course, ma’am...but I don’t think being in the military automatically gives me any kind of clearance to help SHIELD. I’m only E-4.”

She chuckles, “Sharon, please. I’m too young to be ‘ma’am.’ And I’m not sure what that means, but I can give you the clearance. That’s not a problem.”

Y/N nods, “Okay, Sharon. I’d be more than happy to help.” 

She follows the blonde to an adjacent building, to a room that wasn’t impacted by the blast. She talks to a dark skinned man and looks back at Y/N every now and then. He nods and she waves her to follow.  “Okay, so we’re going to head to the airport and brief on the way,” she hands Y/N a folder, “our target is James Barnes, the Winter Soldier. We have orders to shoot on sight. You will be caught up the rest of the way on the plane ride there.”

Listening to a police scanner and watching a TV on the way to Romania, it is clear that some people are already in pursuit. There’s a chase happening. Not only is an armed helicopter following this guy, but the Black Panther and Captain America as well.

 “We’re going to overlook everything from here. Since you have wings, I want you to follow - but at a safe distance - that helicopter,” Fury points to the screen. He hands her a new earpiece, “this way Sharon and I can talk to you and track you from this location.” She nods and puts it in her ear, turning it on. Immediately a red dot shows up on one of the other monitors and the tablet in his hands. She jumps out of the plane, releasing her wings, and begins looking for the helicopter. 

She flies for a bit before finding it, unloading rounds on the top of an apartment building, or something. As ordered, she keeps her distance and perches on a building a few blocks away. “Do you have my location, sir?” “Yes. Keep an eye on those in pursuit of the Winter Soldier. I may have granted you clearance, but you don’t have permission to shoot. If caught, we’re going to take him to a holding place in Berlin.” “Yes sir.”

She continues watching, then suddenly, something hits the tail of the helicopter and it goes spinning out of control. She flies up and watches as the object falls and wings appear as the person swoops back up. She knows who it is immediately and quickly lands so he doesn’t see her. What the fuck? Like seriously, was he never going to tell her that he was flying again? What is happening?

Shaking her head, she snaps herself out of it, and not seeing Sam anywhere, she flies back up so she can find the Winter Soldier. She quickly finds him and the other two chasing after him, and soon after, bullets start firing again. And then….they’re gone. “Sir, I’ve lost sight of them. They’re in a tunnel.” “Don’t worry. We’ve still got your location. Just follow as best you can.”

Though he can’t see it, she nods, landing at the end of the tunnel, on a building so she’s out of sight. She may not be able to completely follow them, but they have to come out eventually. So she waits.

Only a couple minutes pass and then there’s a small explosion. Part of the tunnel falls and the Black Panther flies out through the rubble and shortly after comes Captain America running out of a rolling car. They’re surrounded by police cars and.. a gray iron man? The Winter Soldier is obviously the first one to be apprehended, and then Captain America, then Sam who just staggers out of the tunnel all confused-like. Y/N is glad he doesn’t know she’s this close to him because if he could see her and if looks could kill, he’d be dead. The Black Panther takes off this helmet to reveal T’Challa. Who probably won’t be reprimanded due to being royalty.

Now in Berlin, Sharon goes with Commander Everett Ross to meet the three’s arrival. Y/N stays down in a separate area so Sam doesn’t see her. She’s more than ready to give him a piece of her mind, but since he’s here basically under custody, that probably wouldn’t be the best idea. She sits in a room with a few other SHIELD agents and law enforcement people watching a set of monitors that show different angles of James Barnes’ holding area, and upon her request, the main media area so she can see Commander Ross and the little conference room behind him where Sam and Captain America will be. 

When two men come down with Sam’s wings and Captain America’s shield, they’re handed off and something is said about locking them up and giving the two receipts. She hears some guy mumbling about what the heck to write down the wings as and she chuckles.  “Call it a bird costume, he’ll love that.” the man turns around to see who said it and makes eye contact with Y/N, a smirk on her face. He smiles and chuckles himself, writing it down. Secret payback, Y/N thinks to herself, for not telling me. 

Minutes pass and she watches as the psychoanalyst introduces himself and slowly begins the evaluation. For some reason, the guy seems off to her. She can’t place why, but he does. She turns to the person beside her. “I know I probably don’t have clearance, but do you have a photo of this guy? Something doesn’t feel right.” 

The guy shrugs and nods, getting up to look for the file. He takes only about two steps before the power goes out. The monitor screens go black and everyone begins to panic. Y/N runs out of the room and to the stairwell. She brings her hand to her ear. “Carter, do you need me? Where do you want me?”

There’s silence for a moment before she answers, “Yes! Sam and Steve are headed down to Barnes. I want you down there too for back up if needed. Sub-level 5.”

“Uh...”

“Do you read me, L/N?”

“Yes, copy.” she answers reluctantly. She wanted to rip into Sam under better circumstances, but nothing can go as planned, can it? She runs to the stairwell and goes down a few flights. She quietly enters the floor and makes her way to where the Winter Soldier is being held. As she rounds the corner, she sees that a bunch of agents are already down, presumably dead. She begins checking each one for a pulse, and so far she’s right. 

She doesn’t even hear the running footsteps coming from behind her and she’s about to check the next person when- “What the HELL?” Her head snaps around to see a dumbfounded Sam. “Wh-wh..”She shakes her head, “Not now Sam.”

Just then, there’s a soft, kind of whimpering voice coming from the holding room. “Help me. Help.”

The other man, she assumes Steve, goes over to the man on the ground. She can’t place it, but he seems familiar for some reason. He holds the other up against the wall and Sam walks to the doorway. Just in the nick of time, he dodges a punch. He blocks a couple more attacks, but then James picks him up by the chin and throws him against his holding container. This quickly gets Steve in the fight and he begins throwing punches. Clearly whatever this fake psychoanalyst did, completely changed James and he is now truly the Winter Soldier. 

Y/N stays to the side and watches as Steve and the Winter Soldier fight. When Steve gets pushed through the doors and down the elevator shaft she jumps into action. “Hey!” He turns and stalks her way. Y/N isn’t exactly trained in hand to hand combat but she knows a few things. She’s able to block a couple of his punches at her and even uses her wings to her advantage, blocking some attacks. She does get hit a couple times, and man do they hurt. He is a super soldier after all; that doesn’t help. When the other guy runs past her, it’s enough of a distraction that the Winter Soldier is able to get one final good blow to her stomach. This knocks the wind out of her and he picks her up and throws her against the wall, knocking her out.

tags:

@cake-writes​ @supraveng​ @vxidnik​ @kallafrench​ @itsallyscorner​ @polarcrystall​

[jaeknightorbats]

Tunnel Caprica [M] part 2

Pairings: Baekhyun x Sehun (SeBaek)

Ratings: NC-17

Genre: Smut, dark romance

Description: It was a normal day for convenience store worker Byun Baekhyun when Sehun—a seemingly wealthy man—entered the store, only getting overdosed by drugs afterwards.  It was the encounter that would change Baekhyun’s life. It was the encounter that introduced him to a world that should never exist in this already problematic world.

Warnings: Graphic sexual content, substance use, drug overdose, alcohol, and strong language

Chapters: Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 (NEW!)

Synopsis: Tunnel Caprica connects two cities under the huge and long mountain ranges of the country Ioca [a-yo-ka], making it one of the longest tunnels in the world with a distance of nearly 40 kilometers. However, people choose to drive the 3-hour long pass than driving through the tunnel, because driving through the tunnel can be claustrophobic—an hour drive with nothing but repeating images of the never ending tunnel. But through the tunnel also hides the entrance to another world that Baekhyun is yet to find out.

Part 2

Word count: 4.7k

How does it feel like saving someone’s life?

It has been almost a month since the man named Oh Sehun promised Baekhyun that he was going to contact him to repay for saving Sehun’s life. But he’s never contacted Baekhyun since.

Baekhyun forgot all about it, as if it didn’t happen. It was the least he could do. Besides, he was given a huge tip—Sehun gave all the cash on his wallet. It was around $400. He even apologized if it wasn’t much, he doesn’t bring much cash, he said.

Because of it, Baekhyun was able to pay his dues on time and even bought his girlfriend a factory unlocked iPhone, which made her beyond happy. He took his previous gift from Yuri since he lost his things, together with his phone, at the parking lot the time he saved Sehun.

He felt like it was bound to happen, it helped him solve his problems. Must be really his lucky day.

Baekhyun was at his place, with his girlfriend. They had their legs tangled to one another at his bed, sucking each other’s tongues, kissing each other passionately.

Such bliss they felt as they lose their minds to feel the other.

Yuri slightly pushed Baekhyun’s chest away from her, separating their lips apart. Tips of their noses close to one another, feeling each other’s breath.

She looked into Baekhyun’s hazy eyes, biting her lips.

“We’ve been dating for more than a year,” she gulped, hesitant to say what she had on mind. Baekhyun gently smiled as he adored his partner. He stroked his hand on Yuri’s hair. She rolled her eyes away to rolled it back again to Baekhyun’s.

“You know…you can touch me, right?” She continued, “…Anywhere.”

Baekhyun’s cheeks flared, feeling a little embarrassed. “I know. It’s just that…” He fixed Yuri’s hair back to her ear and held the side of her small face. “…I respect you so much.”

“Aw,” breathed Yuri. She was flattered but embarrassed because she just made herself look horny. She held Baekhyun’s hand and kissed it. “You’re so sweet. Thank you.”

They stared to each other’s eyes dearly, as if they were the only people in the world.

“I have so much respect for you because I love you. I hope you know that.”

She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of Baekhyun’s palm on her cheek, the warmth of his legs squeezing hers, his body heat, and his love. “I love you, Baek.”

Then, Baekhyun softly pulled Yuri to him and gave her a kiss.

It’s a weekend and Baekhyun has an 11AM shift at work. He wished he could stay with Yuri longer, but he got to work to earn money to pay the bills and to make his girl happy.

Pretty average flow at the store. There were a couple of customers who held the line, few pissed him off, but he got to stay composed—it’s his job.

“After 6 months of being away, the son of the ex-president finally came back home to his homeland.”

“It’s that peak season again.” An old customer in front of the counter turned his head from the television back to Baekhyun, trying to start a short conversation.

“Well, yeah. It’s almost summer,” Baekhyun replied with a friendly smile.

The old man scowled. “Who are you talking to?”

Baekhyun scoffed and watched the grumpy man walked away after he paid his items.

Baekhyun suddenly received a text. A text from Yuri. Seeing her name on his cellphone screen always made him smile.

‘I miss you, B,’ it said.

He bit his lips to control the joy he was feeling.

“Now, what are you grinning about?”

Baekhyun shoot his phone behind his back pocket as soon as he could when he heard his manager spoke.

He faced the person in front of him.

Wait, no. It wasn’t his manager.

“Mr. Sehun?”

The man, Sehun, sneered as he placed a bottle of sparkling water at the counter. Baekhyun slowly walked forward to scan his item. He didn’t know what to feel, maybe surprised.

Sehun was wearing casual clothes, a simple plain T-shirt, pants, and a baseball cap. He wasn’t wearing sunglasses. Completely different from what he was wearing the night Baekhyun met him—he looked like one of the people. But there was also an atmosphere around him, or how the way he moved, that differed him from other of people.

“How’s it going?” Baekhyun asked, that’s the only thing he could think of. The man in front of him seemed well and healthy compared weeks ago when he was trying to revive him.

“I’ve been busy traveling so I wasn’t able to contact you.” Sehun opened the bottle of water and drank it after he gave his payment. “Besides, I’ve been looking for you here the same time I went here before. Twice, I think? You weren’t here.”

Surprised, Baekhyun’s brows climbed his forehead. “What?”

“Yeah, I asked someone here.”

“Why though?”

Sehun sneered, looking at Baekhyun as if the answer wasn’t obvious. “You saved my ass, man! C’mon.”

“Excuse me.” Suddenly, a soft voice behind Sehun’s took the attention of both. It was the next customer.

“Anyway,” Sehun looked back to Baekhyun, reaching for his hand, so, Baekhyun took it. “Come to my party tonight. You must come.”

Sehun turned his back to Baekhyun, raised his arm with two finger lifted, and slightly waved. “Ciao.”

There was a piece of paper on Baekhyun’s hand. He opened it, and there was an address written on it.

Baekhyun was on a completely different area of the district, he was outside the city. The peaceful side, where each house or establishment he drove by were far apart.

# 1228 Grand Aria Estates, Cayman.

Located at west side of the district, where one could get the best view of the majestic mountain range of his country, Ioca—the Turris Caelo mountains, which also meant the Heaven Tower mountains. People treat the mountains sacred because it became their shield from the horrid weather that wanted to cross their country. The mountains have saved Ioca from calamities countless times.

Cayman was considered as the wealthiest and most exclusive suburb in his district, if not in Ioca. Baekhyun knew the area, but he hardly came by—he has no business there. Now, he has.

It was already past 9:00 PM, Baekhyun was in front of the gates of the residential village, as written on the paper. He rode his third-hand car to reach the place since it wasn’t exactly an easy place to find. 

He had a little fight with Yuri before she let him attend the party. At first, Baekhyun didn’t want to come because he felt intimidated—there was no doubt that it would be a party for the rich. He’s heard of the residential village—the price of a single square-meter lot still blew his mind. He could live for years with that kind of money.

Yuri initially thought a woman has invited Baekhyun to a party once Baekhyun mentioned anything about a party. She started jumping conclusions. But when she learned it was the man who Baekhyun saved—the man who gave Baekhyun $400—invited him to the party, Yuri forced Baekhyun to attend. She thought there could be some bigger reward waiting for her boyfriend. She even helped him which clothes should he wear—she wanted her boyfriend to look slick. They didn’t know what kind of party he’ll be attending but Yuri made him wear something he could wear at any type of party—a tight jean, a black V-neck shirt, a suit they bought at the thrift shop the last minute, and a black class B leather shoes without socks to finish it all.

Yuri wanted to come herself but it was Baekhyun who doesn’t let her. He knew what alcohol could do to Yuri, he didn’t want Yuri to embarrass herself in front of people they don’t know. This made Yuri infuriated. Shouting until their throats sore. At the end, Yuri still pushed Baekhyun to attend and she only had one instruction to Baekhyun: “Don’t fool around.”

The tall iron rails began to roll open after the guards confirmed that Baekhyun was invited to Sehun’s party. The guard took his license and checked the trunk and bottom of his car with a ferocious Rottweiler tied on his hand—it was a strict security, which made Baekhyun feel a little more intimidated.

He regretted everything and wanted to go back, he should’ve brought Yuri with him, at least. But there was no turning back, Sehun already knew he reached his address.

He drove slowly by the hills. It was dark and peaceful, it looked like a very safe and quiet neighborhood. Baekhyun realized how ridiculously rich the man he saved as he drove passed by the different sizes of mansions and villas in the village.

He wouldn’t be surprised if Sehun lived next to a famous celebrity or personality.

 He finally saw a house—a large house—with a line of luxury cars parked outside.

This must be the one.

He parked a little farther away from the house. He was a little embarrassed by his ride. He took a deep breath before getting out of the car.

He said ‘tonight’. It’s a party, so it should start late.

He observed the house as he got nearer by the gates. Gates as almost tall as the main gates of the village. A classic white two-floor mansion with red bricked roofs. A fairly big driveway to the main doors. A lot of cars. All lights shined through the window. He could hear indistinct music from the house, it wasn’t very loud but he could hear it.

1228, written on one of the pillars of the gate.

He stood outside the gates and rang the doorbell. Without any word, the gate buzzed and automatically opened. He spotted two men in suits, with gears hanging on their ears, must be some guard. As he walked on the driveway, the main door opened, a man walked outside his doorsteps, and stood there waited for Baekhyun. It was Sehun. Hands on pocket, looking tall and sharp, with broad shoulders, on his black mandarin collared shirt under a white suit—he was shining. He had his hair gelled up to the back of his and and it shined under the light. He was looking very slick.

Sehun stared at the man who avoided eye contact with him.

“You’re late,” said Sehun as soon as Baekhyun reached a close distance to him. “I don’t like late people.”

Baekhyun’s heart almost dropped, nervously stepping on the short stairs to the main doors. Sehun seemed serious. “Uh yeah. I thought—“

Sehun howled, breaking his serious face on. “I was kidding! Haha. You looked so tense. C’mere.” Sehun wrapped an arm to Baekhyun’s shoulders and they entered the house.

Baekhyun nervously laughed. It wasn’t a good joke.

“Seriously, though, I value time very much.”

Baekhyun forced a laugh from his nose. But you didn’t state what time.

“But I’m glad you made it. I thought you weren’t gonna make it. You missed dinner, though. Have you eaten?” Baekhyun nodded to Sehun’s question. “You look good, by the way,” Sehun added.

Sehun released Baekhyun from his arm. Baekhyun got to breathe better. A waiter in suit, holding a tray of champagne, stopped in front of them, Sehun took one glass then gave it to Baekhyun.

What am I doing here? I don’t belong here.

Baekhyun was stiff from his position, feeling overly intimidated by everything. Even the waiter who was serving them intimidated him.

His stomach doesn’t feel good.

He looked at the glass on his hand, he’s never drank champagne in his life. But he may need it to gain some courage so he could go through the party.

Baekhyun slightly swirled the narrow glass near his nose, because he doesn’t know how to drink it, then the nice subtle aroma of the liquid that sort of smelled like flowers and fruits entered his nose. He took a sip of it, and it tasted like how it smelled but a little funkier because of the bubbles and the alcohol content. He liked the taste of it, so, he drank it all in one shot, surprising Sehun.

“I know right?” expressed Sehun, with a smug look on his face. “Tasted good, huh?”

“Yeah.” Baekhyun forced a smile after tasting the drink. He may have not drank all types of alcohol in his life, but he knew he needed something stronger.

People gave them short attention as they walked inside the house until they reached the backyard. Baekhyun only assumed that people were turning their heads to them because he was with the host. Or maybe he was wearing such simple clothes. Sehun nodded to whoever he laid his eyes on and made eye contact with. They walked through the house until they reached the huge backyard.

Baekhyun assumed that the party would be loud—the one with DJs and loud music, lots of young people such as themselves, or maybe even younger. But it wasn’t, it was rather quaint. It was a sophisticated party.

High tables scattered around the backyard, occupied by people in suits and dresses, mostly suits. Everyone dressed interestingly, or what he liked to call it—weird fashion. It was the battle of who has the largest earrings and jewelries for women. Men were much more simple, but some wanted to stand out with their colored suits.

Classical music played across the yard.

“Hey, Sehun.” A man walked towards them with a glass of dark golden drink on his hand. “So, are you going to buy it?”

While Sehun was minding his own business, a waiter carrying a bottle of liquor and a couple of small, cube glasses on a tray passed by them, catching Baekhyun’s attention.

That’s what I need.

“Sir, wait,” he called the waiter, in a timid voice. “Two, please.” He coughed, slightly cracking his voice.

The waiter poured the clear liquid to two glasses. Baekhyun then took glasses of alcohol, which seemed like tequila, or something hard. He drank it both in one shot one after another without holding back.

It was tequila. The alcohol went smoothly through Baekhyun’s throat, but he instantly felt the fire ran through his face. “Wow,” he mouthed. He could feel his ears firing up. He never had something like that. He returned the glasses back to the waiter.

“Woah,” said Sehun, he watched Baekhyun took his shots.

Baekhyun gave a half smile. “Just trying to catch up.”

“Haha, you’re funny. By the way,” Sehun turned to the man he was talking to. “Chen, this is the man who saved my life—Baekhyun. But don’t tell my father.”

Both of them laughed, even Baekhyun. Then, the man named Chen shook hands with Baekhyun. “Thank you,” Chen said. “Otherwise, sales would be slow.” It seemed like a joke because Sehun laughed. But Baekhyun didn’t get the joke, he only pretended to laugh.

Chen nodded his head to Sehun then to Baekhyun and walked to another table. The other two went for an empty table.

“That man sell art,” Sehun said as if explaining everything what just happened. “He thinks he’s good, but he’s all right. Good artists aren’t interested in money.”

Baekhyun nodded, pretending he was interested. The taste of the strong liquid he just consumed still lingered on his palate, and could still feel the after effects it had. His mind was still on the shot.

 “So, what’s this party all about?” Baekhyun has been meaning to ask.

“Nothing much, really. Catching up, I guess.”

“Rich people,” Baekhyun muttered to himself, hoping Sehun didn’t hear it.

“What?”

Baekhyun immediately shook his head.

“It’s been busy. Everyone’s been out, traveling—be it business or leisure. Guess we finally had the time to catch up,” Sehun added.  “Also that’s why I couldn’t contact you immediately.”

“Yeah, you did mention.” Baekhyun slowly nodded, roaming around his eyes to observe the place. Then, one particular person took his attention. “Wait, is that—“

He looked at Sehun for confirmation, and Sehun turned at the direction where Baekhyun had his eyes on.

“Minseok?” Sehun smirked, returning his look back at Baekhyun. “Yeah, it’s been hard for him lately. Media doesn’t understand privacy.”

Baekhyun shouldn’t be that surprised to see someone he saw on the television, Sehun lived in such a luxurious neighborhood. But he wasn’t expecting to see someone like Kim Minseok.

Kim Minseok was the one who Kang Sunmi, a fifteen year-old, filed a divorce with. He’s been in the news a lot lately. Kim Minseok was 34 years old when he married the 13-year-old girl. He’s now 36.

Baekhyun felt repulsed. “What the heck is he doing here?” He couldn’t stand the fact that he was in a same room as the person who married and abused a child. It absolutely appalled him.

Sehun only observed Baekhyun’s reaction. “He’s actually my friend, and heavily misunderstood.”

Without thinking of his actions—and how could he, the tequila hit him strong, it made his head feel a little funny—he expressed a bitter face. “What?! It’s absur—“

Then, Baekhyun noticed the face that Sehun was wearing—he didn’t look happy. It washed away the disgust that was painted on his face. It scared him.

Sehun walked closer to Baekhyun, facing opposite the high table with elbow leaning on it—he was closer to Baekhyun’s ears. Sehun said in a low voice, “You have no idea how easy it is to accuse a 36-year-old pedophile.”

Baekhyun’s couldn’t blink an eye, his face was rigid with tension.

Sehun added, “That girl—Sunmi, and her mom demanded $20 million from Minseok just to not go public about the divorce. Even threatened him that they’ll accuse him of abuse when Minseok never did. He fucking loved that girl.”

Hearing the price baffled Baekhyun’s mind. They talked about money as if they have such large amount always at their disposal. Baekhyun couldn’t speak for a second, trying to process it all.

“Women,” Sehun grumbled.

Baekhyun hesistantly asked, “If that’s true… why isn’t that on the news?”

Sehun slightly scoffed, shaking his head. “You just did the face what the whole society thinks of people like Minseok. It’s pointless. We don’t want fanning the flame, now do we, Baekhyun?”

Baekhyun’s brows furrowed. He’s got a point.

Women can be so cruel. He’s started to feel sympathy towards the accused.

He shook his head upon an absurd realization. No, I shouldn’t feel sympathy. It’s wrong. It’s wrong.

“So, they would let the girl win?” Baekhyun asked seriously.

Sehun stopped, looking into Baekhyun’s eyes. “What the heck is this seriousness all about?” he threw his hand to Baekhyun’s chest. “Let’s enjoy the party!”

They started to roam around the yard, meeting and greeting whoever needed Sehun’s attention. There were so much he didn’t understand, but Baekhyun kept drinking a glass of champagne. The drink was actually working—he could feel the effects of the alcohol to him. He knew he couldn’t walk straight.

Baekhyun was starting to like the party. He never knew that such delicate parties were something he was looking for; he was always used to, and always heard of, the loud ones to be more fun. There was something fancy in these type of parties—well, because it was—and it made him feel a little good and a little high class and up above compared to the people he knew. It was a nice feeling.

“Hey, man!” An obviously drunk guy approached them, he seemed a little younger than them.

Sehun faked a smile, it was already obvious to Baekhyun that Sehun didn’t want to be associated with the guy. “Jaemin.”

The guy, Jaemin, threw a hearty pat at Sehun’s shoulder. He leaned closer to Sehun’s ears. “Hey, w-why didn’t you come to my party?!” He couldn’t even speak his words properly. “You know what? You know what? The plane was amazing,” he emphasized, smiling smugly, as if trying to make Sehun jealous.

Sehun jerked Jaemin’s hand off him, but still kept his grace and said as politely as he could, “I think you’ve had a little more than enough on your booze.”

“No, no!” Jaemin wavered on his place. “You know! You should’ve seen…” An indistinct voice followed after he whispered something to Sehun.

The light in Sehun’s eyes changed.

It made Baekhyun wonder.

Sehun light patted the guy’s chest and said, “Yeah, I think it’s time for you to go home.”

Sehun walked towards Baekhyun, shaking his head. “Nouveau riche,” he mumbled with an accent that Baekhyun couldn’t distinguish.

“Nuvo what?” Baekhyun’s brows creased, trying to pronounce what he just heard.

“New money. It’s French. Let’s go.” They both turned their backs to Jaemin and started walking again. “His parents are scam… brilliant, but a scam.” He added, “They made people believe in social media that their company were donating something like money, trees, or food. But they’re really only keeping their money to themselves, and still gain hundreds of thousands of followers. It’s infuriating. And people are just so fucking stupid.”

“Yeah, that sounds infuriating,” said Baekhyun, not really interested. Sehun kept sharing things to him that he never asked about, but he could only nod and agree.

“No, it’s not because of that. But because of his fucking ego. He thinks he’s all high and mighty. His parents bought that fucking plane, not him.”

“Plane? Wow,” Baekhyun reacted, as if it only occurred to him what they talked about. “People can actually buy planes?”

Sehun looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “’Course, you can.”

“How much that costs?”

Sehun scoffed. “Not cheap.”

“E-hey!” A loud voice suddenly distracted the two from walking.

It was a middle-aged, tall woman wearing an African patterned maxi dress. It seemed like a dress robe to Baekhyun—a fancy, fashionable dress robe. Her dangling bracelets made a sound as she opened her arms wide open, waiting for them, waiting for Sehun. Sehun gave a big smile, also seemed excited after seeing her

They both hugged each other out and kissed both of their cheeks with their cheeks. The woman looked at Baekhyun with a mischievous and flirty look. “So, who’s this cute guy you’re with?”

Sehun patted Baekhyun’s shoulder with a tight grip. “This is Byun Baekhyun. A friend.”

Baekhyun smiled at the woman, shy to say anything to the pretty woman.

“Oooh. Hi, Baekhyun.” The woman lightly pulled Baekhyun’s shoulder closer to her to kiss him both on the cheek.

“Baekhyun, this is good friend Maria or Mimi.”

“Mimi,” Baekhyun repeated. He found the nickname weird, Mimi was a foreign name for a local face.

“So.” Sehun grinned, rubbing his hands, and regaining Mimi’s attention back to him.

Mimi seemed like she already understood what Sehun was trying to say. She looked at the guy behind her who was in a simple suit, and the guy behind him understood Mimi. He took something on his inner pockets and gave it to Sehun.

Sehun bit his lips, still grinning, and raised a small clear plastic zip bag with white, tiny pills in it.

It didn’t take long for Baekhyun to figure it out—it was obviously drugs. It didn’t surprise him. If he could guess what it was, it could be ecstasy.

Sehun exhaled in satisfactory through his nose, shaking his head to Mimi. “I love you, Mimi. You’re the best.”

“Of course, anything for you, my dear.” They both hugged each other. “But, I must be going.”

“What? You just got here.”

“I really must be going. The kids,” she shrugged as if she couldn’t do anything that she has kids waiting for her at home. “But it was good seeing you.”

Sehun clicked his tongue. “That’s very sweet of you for stopping by.”

“Of course!” Mimi gracefully waved her hand to both Sehun and Baekhyun as she left the yard followed by her guard or something.

Sehun waited for her to leave from their sight.

“Do you take pills?” He then asked, offering Baekhyun a pill.

“No, I’m good.”

“You sure? This is shit premium. You don’t see this every day.”

Baekhyun stared at the white pill that was resting on Sehun’s palm. He shook his head. “Nah, I really rather not.”

“Okay.” Sehun shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He drank the pill and took a sip of whiskey that he was holding.

Even though Baekhyun was enjoying the party, he was starting to feel impatient why was he ever invited to the party at the first place.

They transferred inside, sitting at a sofa. Some people were still enjoying the party, some people had to go.

“Hey,” called Sehun to Baekhyun. “I’d really appreciate if you don’t tell anybody about what happened. Well, except to the ones we’ve already told here.”

Baekhyun was feeling a little laggy, and feeling a little hot. His face was all greasy, but he didn’t care. “Yeah, ok,” he replied, tipsy. He understood what Sehun was talking about—about him being overdosed.

Sehun clicked his tongue, slightly shaking his head. “My parents’ worse than jail. But damn, I’m glad you didn’t call the fucking ambulance. That’d be even worse than prison!” He paused. “My thanks to you.”

Baekhyun just scoffed.

Oh wait. He forgot to document the party and post it later on social media. He had a sudden urge to take his new phone out and share he’s on a fancy party. Bet I’d impress a lot of people.

So, he recorded a simple 10 second video.

“So, how’s your sex life?”

Baekhyun was surprised by the unexpected transition after he finished recording. The question wasn’t about his life, his job, his financial state, not even his love life, but Sehun asked about his sex life.

“What?” he said with a little giggle, eyes a little droopy. The alcohol was making his muscles a little heavier.

“You heard me.”

Baekhyun scoffed, leaning back to the sofa. He looked at Sehun, feeling ridiculed. Baekhyun felt a sense of insecurity pierced through him. He couldn’t admit that he’s never done it. Kids losing their virginities at 15, and he’s almost 30—still a virgin. It’s an embarrassment, but it was also his choice.

“So?” Sehun was waiting.

Baekhyun laughed through his nose, still couldn’t speak a word. He wanted to lie about it, but for some reason, he didn’t know what to say. “Mm—Uh” He was basically slurring words.

Sehun reclined back with eyes wide open after concluding something on his mind. “No.” He leaned forward, very close to Baekhyun’s face and said in a low voice. “You’ve never done it?”

“No!” Baekhyun denied, moving away from Sehun. “Of course, n-“ Baekhyun’s voice got lower.

“So, when was the last time? Earlier?” Sehun was high, all right. The grin on his face was creeping Baekhyun out.

Baekhyun couldn’t form a word again. He emptied the glass that he was having.

Sehun realized what his friend was hiding but decided to not say anything.

“So, who was the one you’re texting earlier? And why were you all so fucking grinning? Girl or boy?”

Baekhyun cringed. “Of course, she’s a girl. What the hell?”

“What? People appreciate my open mind-ness.” Sehun shrugged with open arms. “How old is she?”

“23.”

“Nice. So, she your girlfr—“

“Yeah, she’s my girlfriend. Why do you ask so much questions?”

Sehun stayed silent and respected Baekhyun. They both stayed silent for a while, observing the party, Baekhyun drinking another booze.

“What’s this party all about? Again?” Baekhyun asked. He felt calmer and stupid—he realized that he just raised his voice in front of a millionaire.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” asked Sehun, ignoring Baekhyun’s question.

Baekhyun bounced his head as a response. He looked at Sehun. He noticed that there was something different about him, about his eyes. Something clicked. He didn’t know what exactly, but it was intriguing.

“Follow me.” Sehun stood up, buttoning his unbuttoned white suit, and started to walk.

Baekhyun watched him walk, then he later followed.

Maybe this is it, he thought. The reward I’m waiting for.

He kept following Sehun who was walking straight. He realized Sehun only had one drink, and it was the whiskey after he took the pill. He checked the time on his watch. He had to frown hard to see the image on his wobbling wrist clearly.

It’s almost midnight.

To be continued...

A/N: Send notes. Follow me on twitter for updates @/jaeandbats

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Tunnel Caprica: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 (NEW!)

[mf-despair-queen]

Sweet as Chocolate - Dylan O’Brien

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Dylan O’Brien/Reader

Word Count: 11,022

Summary: Work puts a damper on Valentine’s Day. Luckily, Dylan O’Brien is the sweetest boyfriend in the world and makes the day unforgettable. 

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Unprotected Sex, Oral (both receiving), Kitchen Sex, Side Sex, Bondage, Multiple Orgasms, Use of Food in sexy ways

Notes: This took forever :’) but Ha[y Valentine’s Day?

“I’m sorry you had to work today, baby. Kind of ruins the Valentine's Day plans when you have to put in overtime for that stupid boss of yours,” his sweet, voice boomed through the speaker of your phone into your ear, the melodic sound ringing through your brain. The smile on your face couldn’t be stopped, the hand casually resting in your lap as you sat in a secluded area of the office, curling into a fist against the tight pencil skirt that lined your waist.

“I should be the one apologizing, Dyl. It was my job that kept us from being together today. On Valentine’s Day of all days.”

Dylan could hear the pout in your voice, chuckling deeply. “I mean, it’s just another day really. We see each other nearly every day anyway. I sleep with you nightly.”

“But it’s the day of romance,” you huffed at him sadly. “I just wanted to have a cute date with you since we haven’t had one in a while. The last thing I wanted was to see my coworkers for the longest eight hours of my life.”

“Cheer up, sweetheart,” Dylan cooed through the phone. “It’ll blow by before you know it. Don’t let yourself get down.”

You sighed, playing with the frills on your blouse aimlessly. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?” you asked rhetorically. “Of how great a boyfriend you are?”

“You have, but I never get tired of it because it means I get to hear your beautiful voice even more,” was his cheesy remark, making you blush lightly and laugh. “And as much as I could lay in bed right now listening to you talk all day, you need to get to work missy. Otherwise, your boss is going to chew you out.”

You laughed again, nodding despite his inability to see your response. “Yeah, yeah. I know,” you hummed. “Don’t do too much in that bed alone, alright? Save some for me for later, won’t you?”

“I can’t make any promises,” was his quick retort. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to force you to do anything if you are tired. I know it’ll be a long day for you.”

“That makes it even sweeter in the end,” you laughed. Glancing at the clock, you saw it was nearing your start time. On the other end of the line, Dylan was yawning too, his quick wake up to call before work beginning to show. You could just picture his drowsy expression, the phone slipping from his grasp as he tried not to fall asleep talking to you. His hair was probably ruffled from sleep, his lower half tangled in the sheets. He would most likely be laying on his stomach, bare torso exposed to the air of your shared home, but the delicious patches of dark hair would be hidden by the bed. It made your heart race just thinking about it. “I love you, Dyl.”

“I love you too, Y/N. Have a good day.”

“No guarantees.”

After bidding him adieu, you made for your desk, clocking in on your way. Just as you plopped down at your desk, powering on your computer and stashing your purse away, your phone dinged with a text message. Dylan’s silly contact image popped up, his silly duck face making you smile. Clicking on the message, your smile grew wider.

[From Dylie: Remember, Happy Valentine’s Day, baby. I promise I will make sure you have a good day. Just you wait ;) and remember to keep smiling always. Because your smile is beautiful, just like you. Love you! <3]

He always knew just how to make you smile. You didn’t bother to reply, locking your phone and setting it aside before your boss could make his rounds of the office, his mouth parted as he squawked all sorts of remarks and complaints. Dylan wouldn’t expect you to reply - he just wanted you to smile. And that’s exactly what you did.

Smiled and grit your teeth to survive the day with your annoying boss and coworkers instead of spending much needed time with your boyfriend of five years, Dylan O’Brien.

The morning seemed to trudge on, a headache setting in within the first hour as people complained about everything they could. The time seemed to tick in slow motion, your eyes glue to the hands of the clock on the wall across from your desk when you had nothing to do for brief periods of time. They seemed to freeze under your gaze, the tick of the seconds hesitating before moving to the next notch.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

You were ready to slam your head to the desk before lunch had even hit. The papers were slowly piling up. Your computer had tried to crash a handful of times. Your feet were hurting from the heels on your feet, your boss constantly asking you to walk to the only working scanner in the building - furthest from your designated seat - to make copies for god knows what. Everything seemed to hit at once, your mood declining rapidly. All hope for a good day had diminished, the light at the end of the tunnel snuffed out by eternal darkness.

“Excuse me,” someone called, the door of the office cracked. The young man had a red hat on that read Fabulous Floral, a clipboard in his hand. “I have a delivery for a miss…” he paused to check his papers. “Y/N L/N?”

You blinked your eyes in confusion, feeling the dozens of hawk-like stares on your back. Apprehensively, you approached the male, attempting to ignore the piercing looks people were giving while snooping in your business. Their noses were upturned, waiting to see what the young lad had to say. Their nosy behavior was irritating, your blood running hot.

“How can I help you?” you offered after a short breath.

“I just need you to sign here,” he smiled happily, holding out the clipboard he had when he arrived. Your brow rose, but you took the pen he offered anyway, scribbling your signature on the appropriate line. “Thank you very much ma’am. I hope you enjoy your flowers! And have a wonderful Valentine’s Day!”

Your jaw dropped at his words, eyes widening the same amount when his coworker walked inside with a large vase of red roses. A pink ribbon with red trim was wrapped around the neck of the vase, tied in a neat bow. Amongst the roses were colorful plastic hearts and shimmering strings of foil hearts. You gawked at the floral arrangement as it was placed on your desk. The two men thanked you before leaving, the door clicking shut behind them.

Your coworkers were whispering about what had happened. They were still watching you eagerly when you approached the flowers, pulling the small card from the roses. Taking a short moment before daring to open the envelope that was decorated with your name neatly, you breathed in the scent of the roses, relishing in the sweet aroma they offered. Your fingers grazed the many petals, the smooth texture against the tips of your fingers offering you some relief from the stress of the day. The thorns had been removed so you weren’t at risk of pricking your finger and the sharp edges. Each rose you touched, every bit of fragrance and elegant touch you got from their beauty, made your heart thump. A smile rose to your face, shyly staring at the roses in awe.

Your hands trembled anxiously as you opened the envelope that sat in your sweaty palms. The writing was messy, yet had a neat joy about it. The clear words that were written across the card inside portrayed such a short message, but the meaning gave the butterflies in your stomach a reason to flutter around wildly. The words were red in color to match the tint of the roses in the vase before you, each one written precisely.

A dozen beautiful roses for a beautiful girl. Yet, a dozen isn’t nearly enough to express how the number of things I love about you. -Dylan

His normal scrawl made the note even more meaningful. Holding it close to your chest, you let out a hefty sigh of happiness, your smile gleaming largely. The whispering around you died away as everyone returned to their seats, still sparing a glance or two in your direction.

Carefully, you moved the flowers to the side of your desk, taking your place in your rolling chair. Fingers were placed to the keyboard of your computer, eyes flickering to the flowers as you began typing away once more, mood considerably brighter than it had been earlier in the day.

At precisely two o’clock, the door opened again, a young woman in a grey shirt and khakis holding a clipboard in the frame. The embroidered signature on her uniform read ‘Edible Arrangements’, telling you what was about to enter your office. Who it was for, there was no telling. The man making the delivery with her was holding the arrangement of fruit behind her, waiting for the cue to hand it off.

“Hi. I’m looking for a Miss Y/N LN?” the girl cheerful spoke, bouncing on her toes.

Your face flushed again, slowly getting up from your desk. Chatter resumed again in the office, shocked twice as much for the deliveries you were receiving. Signing your life away for the second time in the time span of a few hours, you took the fruity bouquet from her assistant. The pair gratefully thanked you before leaving, the door clicking shut.

A card was nestled amongst the various fruits, all your favorites arranged in a gorgeous array of sweet design. Strawberries, varying from regular, chocolate dipped, and even ones that were stripped further with white chocolate, were intermingled with mango that was cut into the shape of hearts. A perfectly tempered chocolate heart was in the middle, white chocolate cursive spelling out ‘I love you’ in the center and luster dust making it shimmer in the light. Flecks of edible gold dotting random fruits. The vase the arrangement was sat in was red with two intertwining white hearts, a bear dangling from a small handle on the side. It was holding a fake chocolate dipped rose with a precious smile sew into the snout.

Another handwritten note sat between your fingers.

I figured you would need something sweet to get through the day, but I assure you - the fruit isn’t nearly as sweet as you. - Dylan

It felt like your heart was ready to burst from your chest with how hard it was pounding. Your legs felt weak from the overwhelming bliss that was raining over you. Your heard was spiraling, the shower of gifts causing your face to burn and your mind empty of anything but extreme elation.

Picking a strawberry from the bunch, the taste of the sweet juices entered your mouth after one bite. Chocolate stained your tongue in milky lusciousness that made your mouth water. A squeal of excitement made your throat rumble, turning into a pleasant moan from the delicious taste. Others flocked to your desk to partake in the fruity treats - all outcomes similar to yours.

The snack break to indulge in your gift was short lived, people returning to work before your boss had a fit that things weren’t being done in a timely matter. But with each hour that ticked by, you were happy to sneak another strawberry that made every ounce of your taste buds tingle.

At five, people were buzzing around, bags rustling and stuffed with papers. Low chatter filled the air, sighs of relief that the day was finally over the noise most often heard. You joined in the silent cheers that the unfortunate day at work had concluded. You could finally go home, curl up on the couch - hopefully with your boyfriend - and watch some cheesy rom com to relax and destress. Your stomach grumbled, ready for any meal you could get, whether it is a quick fast food meal or a simple sandwich from the fridge at home.

You just wanted to be home in the arms of the man you loved.

Just as you were grabbing your purse from your desk drawer, the door opened. Initially figuring it was someone leaving the office, you didn’t bother to glance up, making sure to drop all of your belongings in your bag before preparing to leave. Only when one of the girls nudged you did you look up, your purse slipping from your hands at the sight before you. Your mouth was dry and your eyes were wide. The shutter of phone cameras clicked behind you, taking advantage of the scene at the door. A once in a lifetime opportunity to see this - all because of your boyfriend really.

Tyler Posey, the hot main character of the MTV show Teen Wolf, stood in the doorway of your office. Posey was a close friend, the two of you clicking instantly the first time Dylan introduced you to each other. He was like the big brother you never had - always willing to help but still tease you when he could. The fact that he stood here now not only shocked you, but what he had made you flustered.

The tattooed young man was dressed in a suit, which wasn’t much of a surprise really. He always had loved being neatly dressed, almost as much as he loved his shorts and tank tops with backwards baseball cap. Tucked under one arm was a massive teddy bear, probably larger than you, that was holding a heart that read ‘Be Mine’. In his other hand was a neatly wrapped box, the paper a pale pink and the bow, white as snow, curled perfectly.

“Tyler, what are you doing here?” you asked, glancing around at your coworkers that were still snapping pictures.

“I came to pick you up!” he chimed cheerfully. You simply blinked in confusion, Posey’s smile never faltering and his bouncing persona making his body vibrate. His feet moved forward, holding out the bear first. “I was sent to deliver this overly large, fuzzy bear for you.”

“Ok?” you squeaked unsurely. “Um, thank you?”

Taking the bear, Posey had not lied. It was the softest thing you had ever touched. The second it landed in your grasp, you were hugging it to your chest, wanting to find the closest couch to curl up and cuddle the large animal until you fell asleep. You were ready to snuggle it nightly, burying your face in the fuzzy fur. Your smile mirrors the one you received with every unexpected gift through the day, your heart fluttering joyfully.

“I’m glad you like it and all,” Posey chuckled, narrowing his eyes on your thrilled form. “It was a bitch to get in my truck too because that thing is huge, and I don’t get why he had to spoil you with that. But a guy has to please his girl for Valentine’s day I guess. So… here.”

He held out the box. Glancing between it and the face of your friend, you placed the bear on your chair, taking the box. “What is this?”

“Don’t be dense,” Posey laughed, shaking his head. “If you haven’t picked up on it yet, my best friend - your lovely little boyfriend - has sent me to deliver gifts and to pick you up to take you to a mysterious location. He told me to tell you that he loves you very much and that he wants to treat you to a wonderful night since you couldn’t spend the day together. You need to take that box into the bathroom and change before we can get going.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You know I love you, sis, but think about it,” Posey laughed again. “It’s Valentine’s Day. Your boyfriend bought you a bunch of gifts. And I’m taking you to him.” You stared at him. “Oh my god.”

Giggling, you shook your head. “I get it, Pose. Thank you for the help.” Pushing up on your toes, you placed a kiss to his cheek, earning a toothy grin from the man. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Tyler. Did you spoil Sophia?”

“Of course.”

“Good answer,” was all you said before taking the box and retreating to the bathroom, all the while knowing that Posey was bound to be bombarded by your coworkers that were gawking at the actor in their office.

Placing the box on the sink, the ribbon was uncurled and loosened. The paper covering the box was torn and discarded. Tissue paper lined the inside when you lifted the top of the box off., crinkling under your touch. Your heart nearly stopped on the contents inside. Resting on the top were a pair of low heels, the color a soft pink. The toes were covered and there was a strap that would wrap around your ankle. Two straps covered the top of your foot, starting from the center of the toe to the strap around the ankle. They weren’t the highest heels, making you breathe a sigh of relief that you wouldn’t break an ankle with wherever Posey was going to be taking you.

Under the heels laid a neatly folded pink dress. It was strapless with dazzling rhinestones lining the collar that hugged around the neck. A shimmering silver belt lined the middle of the dress around the waist. The skirt of the dress was pleated and flared out cutely. Sliding it on, replacing your work clothes, the dress ended around your mid-thigh. Your work clothes were placed in the box instead. Doing one last spin, checking yourself out in the small mirror, you left to return to your friend.

Posey stood instantly, pushing past the girls trying to talk to him. His eyes twinkled, the man ruffling his hair as he approached you. Placing the box aside, you allowed him to wrap his arms around you, the musk of his cologne wafting into your nose. “You look beautiful, sis,” he whispered.

“Thanks, Pose,” you replied.

Backing away, his hands ran up and down your arms. “Now, let’s get you to your man.”

You carried the large bear to Posey’s truck while he carried your other belongings. The man was a gentleman, opening the door for you and helping you in before climbing into the driver’s seat. You managed to make small talk as he drove, destination unknown to you. It was nice to catch up with Posey, the man having been busy with his band recently to be seen.

As he drove, he dug in the door for a sleep mask, holding it towards you. “Unfortunately, as we get close, I can’t let you see anything.”

“Seriously?” you pouted, taking the mask.

“Don’t blame me. Blame your boyfriend,” he chuckled. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“Fine,” you whined, placing the mask over your eyes, your vision going dark. “I swear though If you are secretly taking me away for me to die, I will haunt you. I know where you live, Tyler Garcia Posey.”

“Damn. You ruined my plans!”

You waited until the truck stopped, the engine killed. Posey slipped from the truck, leaving you alone for a second before your door opened. The air was chillier than before and smelled of salt. In the distance came the subtle crash of waves, signifying the location you were at. The beaches of California were one of your favorite spots, the sun setting in the distance making your body warm with comfort. The door behind you was slammed shut, Tyler leaving you by the truck as he disappeared briefly.

Jumping when he returned, one of his hands on your back and the other taking your hand, he led you forward. With your vision obscured, your steps were tentative, the heels clicking against the asphalt with every footfall forward. Posey would tell you when to step, making sure you didn’t trip or fall as you moved forward.

Finally, you sunk into the sand, the grainy feeling cold and refreshing. It was hard to stumble forward with the heels still on your feet, and your legs were already beginning to burn from trudging through the sand, sinking under your body weight. The splashes from the waves was growing louder, the sound of voices far in the distance. You were virtually alone with Posey on the beach, unsure where Dylan was or what he was planning.

Finally, you were stopped, Tyler’s large hands on your shoulders. His breath hit your ear as he spoke. “Happy Valentine’s Day, you lil shit. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, but make sure to have fun tonight.”

You were left alone in the darkness. When nothing happened after a minute, your curiosity got the best of you. The eye mask was removed from your face, eyes blinking to adjust to the setting sun. Your arms dropped to your sides, the mask slipping from your grasp and landing in a heap in the sand. The scene before you was straight out of a movie: the sun setting in the distance beyond the oceanic horizon, mixing the sky with reds, oranges, and pinks. The water glowed, twinkling beautifully. In the sand, just out of reach of the waves that crashed to the shore, were two intricately drawn hearts that interlocked. In on heart was your initials, while the other had the unmistakable initials of your boyfriend: DOB. Under the hearts, it said I love you, making you heart race.

Something soft touched your hand, but you didn’t need to look at the source. Your fingers intertwined together, the larger, rougher one giving a reassuring squeeze. A pair of lips met your temple, your eyes fluttering closed at the soft touch. Your body turned and crash into his chest, being hugged close to his warmth. His cologne was soft and subtle, but made your mouth water at the sweet aroma. Your nails clawed at his back, gripping at the shirt he was wearing.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” he whispered, voice deep and husky.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Dyl,” you replied just as quietly, finally glancing up to meet his sweet honey-colored irises. He smiled at you, placing a short, tender, but always loving kiss to your lips.

He looked beautiful under the glow of the setting sun. But, realistically, when didn’t he look gorgeous? The jeans he had on were dark washed and neat, but he stepped up the game with a dark blue button up, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows to show off his veiny arms. The veins travelled all the way down to his hands where his thumbs smoothed across your knuckles, keeping his grip firm in yours. His hair was quiffed, sticking up to the sky, and he had trimmed his beard, leaving it a short stubble against his jawline.

You would remember this for the rest of your life, just this image.

“I hope you enjoyed all of the gifts,” he hummed, swaying your hands left and right. “I wanted to give you something to cheer you up since you were stuck at work all day. Since we couldn’t spend the day together, I had to find another way to keep you happy.”

“They were wonderful, Dyl. You really didn’t have to.”

“I know, but I wanted to. And now, we can be together. So, I hope you like the idea of dinner and wine on the beach.”

“Two of my favorite things,” you giggled. “Food and alcohol.”

Dylan pouted playfully walking backwards towards a small table that was set up, two wine glasses already filled with Moscato, the bubbles trickling to the top of the liquid. “What about me? I made my mom’s chicken parm for you.”

“You’re still in the top five, honey,” you teased, placing a kiss to his lips. He still pouted into the kiss; you could feel it when you backed away just enough that your lips still brushed as you spoke. “You’ll always be my number one.”

“I better be,” was his smug remark. His arms wrapped around you, fingers trailing up and down your back soothingly. Your arms wound around him in return, clutching at his shirt. The tender touch of his lips to your forehead made your face heat up with a bright blush, a smile curled on your lips. “Now, let’s eat.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

~

The dinner was one of the most romantic things you ever had ever encountered. The delicious homemade food made your mouth water. The refreshing wine sliding down your throat, arms jokingly interlocked as you tilted the glass back, the rim on your lips. It was hard to sip the liquid when he made funny faces at you as he drank his own wine, soft giggles escaping your mouth every time. After eating, you relaxed on a blanket in the sand, listening to the waves crashing against the shore. Leaning against Dylan’s broad chest, you could hear his heart beating rapidly and unevenly - just like your own. His arms hugged your waist, your fingers tangling together in an array of digits, toying with each other’s hands. Together, you watched the sun set in the horizon, the sky turning a dark black, the rainbow of colors vanishing in a blink.

You helped Dylan clean up, walking hand in hand to his car. Halfway through the sand, you paused, noting the lack of Tyler Posey and his truck. “Where is Pose?”

“He headed home to have dinner with his other half,” Dylan hummed.

You blinked, cocking your head. “But my stuff was in his truck.”

“It’s in my car,” Dylan chuckled.

“What?”

“I had everything planned, babe,” Dylan mused playfully. “Ty has my spare car key right now. He put your stuff in my car while we had our romantic little getaway.”

“That sneaky little bastard,” you scoffed under your breath, earning a rowdy chuckle from the man beside you.

“He was a great help,” Dylan told you, unwinding your hands so he could sling his arm around your shoulders. His touch warmed you, goosebumps from the night chill and thrill from his hold popping up on your arm. “Plus, he promised not to cockblock us if he was allowed to help.”

“That fucking Posey,” you laughed.

“I’m grateful that he was so forceful with wanting to help me do something special for you this year,” the man chuckled. “I never get to do something special for you for Valentine’s Day because of work. So, when he said he wanted to help, I was all for it.”

“You really didn’t have to, Dyl.”

“I know,” he hummed, kissing the side of your head. “But I wanted to. I wanted you to know that I love you more than anything and I wanted to do something that would make you happy. I want to spoil you because you deserve it. I wanted nothing more than to give you a day to remember.”

He unlocked the car for you as you arrived, placing everything in the back seat. The door slammed shut, his back leaned against the side of the vehicle. You inched between his legs, the two of you easing into each other before trying to rush home.

“Dyl,” you murmured, resting your chin on his chest, glancing up to meet his honey eyes. They glimmered staring down at you, crystal clear against the dark, cloudless sky behind his head. His slender digits stroked their way through your locks, pushing the strands from your face. “If I have to be honest, every day is a day to remember with you. I look forward to waking up. I look forward to every adventure. I look forward to hearing your voice. I look forward to seeing your face when I fall asleep at night. I look forward to every day of my life with you because you make every day memorable. And, I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

“You’re going to make me cry,” he sniffled playfully.

“Good,” you teased, placing a soft kiss to his lips. “All according to plan.”

“You evil little minx.” Dylan hugged you close, pushing off the car to spin you around. He grinned at the laughter you let out. “And I thought that I was the mastermind with the evil plans today.”

“Keep thinking that, baby,” you toyed, patting his cheek. “We know who wears the pants in this relationship.”

“We’ll see about that,” his smooth, sultry voice cooed coyly. Opening the passenger door, he handed you the bear that sat in your seat. “Now, get in the car so we can head home.”

“Fine,” you huffed. “Rude.”

“So, you say now,” he chuckled. “But soon, you’ll realize just how sweet I really am.”

The car ride home was filled with laughter and horrible singing, short kisses shared at red lights. The roads were surprisingly empty, most people probably having a romantic meal with their significant others. Dylan held your hand tightly as he drove, winding through the streets of Los Angeles to get you back to your shared home. Occasionally, he would let go of your hand, placing it on your thigh instead. His fingers would tinker with the end of your dress, teasingly pushing his fingers under the hem without seeking a destination.

He was starting to get you a bit hot and bothered.

You were shocked, and yet ecstatic, pulling into the driveway. The porch lights were on, shining on the grass of the front lawn. On the face of the green leaves were multiple hearts of white powdered from left to right, all sizes displayed before you. Dylan chuckled at your gawking expression, kissing your cheek. The flour dusted hearts on the lawn made your own heart thump wildly, hand flailing at your boyfriend.

“Haven’t you done enough?” you whined, allowing him to lead you through the white hearts into the house.

“Oh, no. Not at all,” he grinned, opening the front door for you. “We haven’t even had dessert.”

“Seriously?” you whined with a pout. “I’m going to kill you.”

“But, I made cupcakes,” he whimpered, leading the way to the kitchen after the door was locked and your shoes were discarded. On the table was a tray of cupcakes, chocolate in flavor. The frosting was piped in neat rosettes, edible gold flecked on top. A bowl of strawberries was to the left of the cupcakes with a bowl of melted chocolate to the right. A spare bottle of chocolate syrup rested on the table, the Hersey label staring daggers are your chocolate-loving soul. And to top everything off, literally, was an unopened canister of whipped cream.

Dylan rushed forward, striking a match to light a few candles, the glow from the flames licking the walls and highlighting his face. They added to the romantic aura of the night, the sensual vibe radiating around you. The handsome gentleman before you pulled out a chair for you, extending a hand while bowing to aid you with moving to your seat. Plopping in his own seat beside you afterwards, your legs tangled under the table, allowing your bodies to get cozy, nuzzling together. A veiny hand reached to grab a chocolate cupcake, Dylan feeding you the succulent sweetness.

In movies, you always saw the romantic dates where the couple would feed each other in the most erotic way, lips slowly parting while food was placed between them, mouth watering as they bit into it. It was always in slow motion too - your eyes glued to the way their eyes would close and they would enjoy every second of the food, the taste sweeter than normal from the sexiness of their significant other feeding them. Never once had you expected to do it yourself.

And, not once did you expect the feeling to be as phenomenal as it was.

Dylan would feed you the delicious cupcakes he made, the sponge soft and velvety, the frosting sweet and smooth. His fingers would always grace your lips, allowing you to lick them clean when he fed you the chocolate covered strawberries between cupcakes. His nose flared with heavy breaths, watching you suck his slender digits clean, a groaning grumble trapped in his throat. When there was chocolate lathered on your lips, he used that as an excuse to lean forward and kiss you, cleaning the sweet substance with his tongue before igniting a brief, yet always heated, kissing session.

Feeding him was equally as passionate - and ten times sexier. You were addicted to the way his plump pink lips would part as you tore a cupcake apart, placing it into his mouth. The corners of his lips curled upwards every time with a smile that could break hearts, your chest constricting with rapid heartbeats. Every bit of food you passed his way, he would leave tender kisses to the tips of your fingers, cleaning them of crumbs or chocolate coating. You were forced to wiggle around in your seat, heat pooling between your legs from the romantic, candlelit dessert you were sharing with your boyfriend.

The plate was cleaned of all the cupcakes, the bowls dotted with dark specs from leftover chocolate and the strawberry stems. The whipped cream and spare chocolate syrup were untouched, but you didn’t care. You were focused on the man beside you, his hand stroking the side of your face, curling a strand of hair around his finger before pushing it behind your ear.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, inching closer until his lips were nearly upon yours. They never connected, his lips detouring to your cheek instead, trailing down your jaw to your neck. You head tilted away, mewling softly at the way he peppered your neck with kisses, sucking softly at the most tender parts. “I love you.”

“I,” you started, gasping for air when he sucked harshly. “Fuck, I love you too.”

Dylan smiled against you skin, pulling away from your neck. His hands cupped your face, pulling you into him, connecting your lips together with a heated smack. Your arms instantly slid around his neck, your body pushing into him as best as it could.

The kiss started speeding up quickly, heads tilting to the side to allow for the maximum amount of space. Lips parted so tongues could twist and tangle with each other, tracing the inner linings of the opposite party’s mouth. Dylan pulled you from your chair eventually, your legs on either side of his waist as he sat in his chair.  Your hands roamed his shoulders as his ran up and down your back, eventually slithering under your dress to rest on your backside. Your bodies rocked together, your pussy growing wetter by the second. You were throbbing - aching for him, craving his attention and touch.

The kiss broke long enough for him to push the dress up your hips to your waist, finally pulling it passed your breasts and over your head. A shiver ran up your spine, your form bare apart from the panties that hugged your waist. Your nipples were perky from the chill of your home, breasts directly in front of Dylan’s face. However, his eyes moved up to yours after a brief moment of admiring your body, bringing your lips back together.

He stood from the chair with you still in his arms, your butt placed on the table. The kiss was broken, your swollen lips left vacant when he pulled away. A soft whimper left your lips, but the only reply you got from the noise was a single finger telling you to wait, the man rushing to move the china from the table. The chocolate and whipped cream were left where they were, making you skeptical to what kind of game was about to be played.

He was back before your eyes before you could blink, his eyes closed and his lips sealed against yours. A muffled moan rattled inside your throat, your hands first gripping the sides of his face to lure him in closer mid-kiss, before descending south. Rubbing at his shoulders, his posture sunk, relaxing into your touch and pushing himself closer. His pelvis knocked the table, the kiss broken momentarily for a burst of laughter. Slowly, our hands began to work at his shirt, each button undone with exact precision to reveal the collarbone, that was laced with kissed once exposed, to his stomach, that your hands gladly traced along, feeling his abs flexing under the tips of your fingers.

The man shrugged his shirt off completely, your hands already beginning to work on his pants. You only succeeded in undoing the button and drawing the zipper down before your heated kiss was broken, husky pants leaving his parted lips. You were pushed back onto the table, Dylan rounding the side to get a better look at you. He was mute, hungry eyes trailing along your form while a devilishly sneaky hand sought the chocolate syrup. Your eyes were wide and your mouth was dry, watching him hold the bottle between lanky digits. You quivered with excitement, ready for whatever was coming your way.

A loud moan left your lips shamelessly, head falling back onto the table with a thunk. Your back arched, your chest and stomach slathered in the chocolate syrup that Dylan poured from high above. Each drop rained upon you, creating lines of dark brown against your skin - circling your breasts, zigzagging across your stomach, and finally ending at your core, your pussy covered in thick chocolate. Dylan’s eyes were dark, almost the same shade as the chocolate that he had just covered you in. They were filled with hunger, his inner animal raging for a meal. He was salivating, a trail a drool dripping down his chin that he was forced to wipe away.

“So sweet,” he murmured, placing a swift kiss to your lips before travel down your body. His tongue roamed around your form, licking off the chocolate that stuck to your skin. His smile was obvious against your skin. “Mmm. Definitely sweet.”

You wanted to retort, but your words were caught, a moan leaving your mouth instead. The man was ravaging you, beginning his assault on your breasts, licking and sucking your body clean. The way his tongue traveled along your form made you shiver, feeling the tip of it lapping at the sensitive skin of your chest. His lips preferred to wrap around your pert nipples, sucking them until they were hard peaks, taut to the ceiling. His lips tugged at them with harsh kisses, red blotches from his mouth replaced the sticky substance that you were coated with. Each breast got equal treatment, Dylan loving your chest just as he always did.

He continued down, cleaning you as he approached your aching center. Your breathing picked up, heavy pants leaving your lips. You stared down at him, staring passed your body to see him sliding between your legs. Veiny hands pushed they further apart, his warm breath fanning across your sticky, wet pussy. Dark caramel eyes flashed your way with a mischievous glint before he sunk to his knees, only his hair in your view.

A loud moan filled the kitchen, your back arching from the table from the pleasure you felt. “Oh, Dyl!” you screamed his name, one hand reaching down to tangle through his hair. His lips were assaulting your core in the most wonderful way, kissing and licking off the chocolate that touched your clit before sinking his tongue into your wet core, swirling it around happily. He lapped at your released juices, slurping at each drop noisily. His moans of satisfaction were prevalent in the silence.

His mouth didn’t relent, attacking your core and your clit without remorse. His lips would tug at your swollen nub before his tongue flicked it around. His swallowed every drop that escaped your throbbing pussy, massaging the inner walls as he did. Your hand tugged at his hair restlessly, pleading for more, seeing stars from every action he did. Your stomach was clenching, the knot tightening with the threat of unraveling at any second. Your body was on fire, ecstasy on high.

Disappointment filled you. His presence between your legs vanished, leaving you cold. Your whimpers were silenced by his lips, the distinct clang of his pants hitting the floor when he wiggled free from them falling on deaf ears. Your body was filled with warmth without warning, your whines morphed into pleasurable sounds.

He filled you completely, his thick cock sliding into your moist core with ease. He stretched you wide, but it was something you were used to - something you enjoyed. His cock pulsated, traveling through your walls and into your veins. He stilled once fully sheathed, laying countless kisses to your lips. Your arms snaked around his neck, nails clawing at his muscled back before he could even start pleasing you more than you already were.

His thrusts started slow, his lips still loving your face. Hips bucked into each other, the table scratching at the floor when it shifted with your weights. You moaned for him - loudly. His name rolled off your tongue like a mantra, urging him to speed up, to go harder. And he did. The distinct clap of your hips against each other mixed with the noises you made and heavy breathing. The slap of skin on skin reverberated off the walls.

His cock slid in and out of your pussy quickly, his shaft covered in your essence every time he emerged from your depths. The tip sought your sweet spot whenever he sunk into you, finding its treasure easily. It was obvious when he found it, the loud screams you made as he thrust into you making his blood boil.

“Oh, fuck! Dylan!”

He grunted, signaling that he was pleased with the sound. He pounded you into the table, not caring about the strain you were putting on the wood. He only cared about pleasing you, making you cum, and even filling you with every drop he had until you were dripping, his cum spilling from your folds when he pulled out. He watched your breasts bounce with every hard thrust into you. He stared at your face, grinning at your closed eyes and swollen lips, parted with heavy breathing.

One last powerful thrust made your vision go black for a second, your juices spilling around Dylan’s erect cock. He groaned at the warmth you provided, cock twitching a few times before spewing his load into you, strings of white filling your womb. Your walls hugged around him, milking him for all he had - but it was only the start.

He pulled you up after he stopped thrusting and your body slumped against the wood grains. Your arms were around his neck, scratching at his back that was already lined with red marks from before. His arms hug around your waist, his cock still deep within your core. He pulsed inside you, your walls responding by squeezing at him. Soft kisses were placed to your lips, the smack prevalent in your ears. His lips were a drug; you wanted more.

“You know,” he hummed, pecking your lips repeatedly. “That chocolate is sweet, but I think you’re sweeter.”

“If that so?” you teased, resting your forehead on his when he nodded. “Well, I think the sweet one here is you, Mr. O’Brien.”

“Really?” he mused deeply. His tone was gruff, the husk making you shiver. “Care to prove it?”

You grinned, reaching behind you for the whipped cream that tipped over at some point, barely managing to stay on the table. You hummed playfully, placing the nozzle to your lips before squeezing, the white foam on your tongue. Dylan shifted inside you, grunting loudly. “I think I can do that,” you quipped.

Dylan pulled out of you, lifting you off the table wordlessly. You squealed, laughing as he trudged away in the direction of your bedroom. Your heart fluttered when you walked in, finding the bed covered in rose petals, your normal blue sheets swapped for a satin red. You were thrown onto the bed with a laugh, the bed creaking with the bounces from your body. He pounced - landing on top of you to share a kiss before rolling off of you.

Dylan laid at your side, one had draped over your stomach while the other kept him propped up. His eyes twinkled while staring down at you, glistening with a range of emotions - primarily love. The man took a handful of the petals around you, letting them rain over your form. The silky petals cascaded over your form, Dylan relishing in the laughs you let out while being covered in the red curls of passion and romance.

A slow kiss was left to your lips, growing fiercer by the moment. What started as a passionate connection turned heated, tongues tangling and hands roaming limbs. Legs tangled together in a heap at the end of the end, toes curling into the plush sheets that clung to your bodies from sweat that was already beginning to layer your forms. Hands wove through hair, messing up the chocolate colored locks that covered the top of his head. His larger, veinier hands caressed your sides, the sensation his fingers left making your skin crawl with excitement.

If Dylan had his way, he would be buried inside you again already, thrusting wildly with your legs bent over your head while you screamed his name at the top of your lungs. He would be pounding you into the mattress, the warranty on the mattress appreciated whenever he slammed you down and fucked you into oblivion because the wear was growing obvious. He would be filling you with his cum repeatedly, watching the cream ooze from deep inside you while your fingers spread yourself open. He would have it all; he would never stop.

But, that wasn’t the case.

He found himself on his back, grunting, groaning and moaning at the tender touches of your lips that flit down his body, leaving obvious red marks on his neck and chest. Your teeth nibbled at his skin, the scrape making his skin tingle. You were nearing your destination - the painfully erect cock that stood straight up, poking your stomach and seeping the glistening precum that made your mouth water. The tip was red and swollen, built back up for another orgasm, his thoughts of cumming inside you rushing the process.

He frowned when your lips left just prior to making contact. His eyes followed as you grabbed the can of whipped cream, spaying a bit of your tongue to coat your mouth in the milky substance. The man shuffled under your weight, cock twitching up and down with arousal just from watching you lick the white foam from your lips slowly. He didn’t utter a word, waiting to see what you were going to do.

Swirls of the white were left on his body - covering his pert, pink nipples, outlining every bit of his abs that were built from American Assassin, and around the base of his cock, running along the shaft to the head. He looked like the perfect sundae - just lacking the cherry on top that would be placed at on the tip. It was a good thing the head was already red.

A load moan ripped from his throat, his Adam’s Apple bobbing when he swallowed. This throat vibrating with the prolonged moans, his head falling back with eyes screwed shut. You started at his nipples, licking the whipped cream clean from his skin, sticking around to toy with the sensitive bud on his chest. He always claimed to hate when you focused on them, his body squirming with some form of discomfort from the sensitive touch. But, you knew the truth - he loved when you sucked at him, played with them. Sure, they were sensitive, but it made the man moan. It made your boyfriend groan. The hardening of his shaft against his leg was a perfect indicator, growing stiffer when you moved across his chest, stopping to twirl your fingers around the bundle of chest hairs he had, to the other nipple.

He watched through half lidded eyes when you traveled south, playfully cleaning off his stomach, kissing every spot you cleaned. He was eager to have you at the final spot, your mouth filled with his shaft. And as sexy as it was to watch you lick and kiss at his stomach, highlighting his well-earned muscles, he urged you down with a shove of the top of the head.

Getting a blow job was one of his favorite things. His head fell back just from your mouth around the head, cleaning the whipped from around him. The taste was a mixture of precum and cream, a sweet saltiness in your mouth. His mouth parted with a moan, his tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. His hand dragged through his hair, pleasure beginning to fill his body. You sucked at the head of his cock, tongue circling the sensitive head happily, smoothing over the slit.

“Fuck, baby,” he grunted, biting his lip. “Just like that. Suck my cock, baby. God, I love when you suck me off.”

His words encouraged you to do more, cleaning most of the remaining whipped cream from his length. You began to bob along his shaft, cheeks hollowed for a tighter feeling. Your nose dipped into the whipped cream around the base, but that didn’t stop you. You were too busy savoring the taste of his sweet cock between your cheeks, your tongue tracing up and down his shaft as your swallowing him whole. Your mouth watered most of all from the throbbing vein you always found on the underside of his length, your tongue pressed flat to it as it pulsed on your taste buds. Tracing the prominent vein along his cock made him moan loudly, your body beginning to quiver and ache for more.

To clean him of the rest of the whipped cream, Dylan was thrilled when you began to deep throat him. It wasn’t something you did very often, but when you did, he was in heaven. The tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. You took every ounce of him into your mouth, nose buried in the dark hairs that curled at the base of him. Your tongue licked the remainder of the creamy substance from his skin, not daring to stop running along him. Dylan felt bad at the few gagging sounds you made, choking in his large erection that was stuffed down your throat, but you never ceased what you were doing.

Dylan thought you’d return the favor from before. You normally were the vindictive type. If he didn’t let you cum, you normally did the same to him. If he denied you food, you did the same. If he stole your seat on the couch, you’d steal his spot in bed. After the events in the kitchen, despite the wonderful orgasm you had from him fucking you senselessly, he figured you would stop, leaving him hung out to dry with an exploding dick. He hadn’t finished you with his tongue - so, why should you?

Yet, you didn’t stop. You sped up, pumping his shaft when you weren’t deep throating him. Your eyes were closed and your cheeks were puffed out around him. He had to push your hair back to see your beautiful face properly. The sight made his stomach churn, the knot that had been slowly tightening throughout the entire process finally at its breaking point. The threads were tearing and unraveling, splitting at the seams. His toes were curling and the muscles in his chest and arms were flexing. His eyes strained to remain open to watch before he finally burst. A blissful release swarmed his body, his cum spewing out to fill your mouth. Your mouth slowed to a stop, your hand used to pump every last drop onto your tongue, the sticky saltiness waterfalling down your throat where low moans were trapped. You drank up every last drop he hand, cleaning the tip with your tongue.

“Fuck,” he panted, pulling you up to his level. You tasted like him when he placed a tender kiss to your lips. “That was amazing.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” you mused, giving him a sweet eskimo kiss. “I always knew you were the sweetest.”

“I still think it’s you,” he laughed. “But, you know. I’m still hungry.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he murmured huskily. You saw his eyes darken, a sly grin on his speckled cheeks. “I think I’m ready for dessert.”

Rolling onto your sides, facing each other, Dylan planted a firm kiss to your lips, hands slowly descending the length of your body. Your groins rubbed against each other, the friction from the grinding making you wetter. Your leg was draped over Dylan’s waist carefully, your lower halves even closer than before. His hand found its way to the small of your back, pushing you flesh against you, your breasts smashed to his chest.

Low moans left your lips together, barely separating from his as his cock slid deep into your core. Dylan’s deep grunt rang in your ears, the slow push of his shaft between your walls - filling you to the brim - prolonging the noise. Once fully situated, he stilled, tilting your chin up to kiss your lips repeatedly. Your nose flared with uneven breath, pushing into the kiss as much as possible. Lips dragged against each other, the distinct smack from the connection bouncing off the walls around you.

The thrusts started slow, gradually picking up until Dylan was ramming himself into you wildly. Your leg and foot that were draped over his waist were flailing around with each push of his hips, heel slamming into his backside. Hips clapped together noisily, sweat making your bodies stick together before peeling apart. His long cock, covered in your arousal, emerged from your core, slamming back into you without remorse.

Your hands wound around his neck, fingers lacing through his hair. Giving it soft tugs, your mewls of happiness pushed him harder. You both panted, the bed shaking under your shifting weight. Short kisses were shared, Dylan leading the charge to please you.

You were shocked, yet delighted, when he rolled you onto your back once more. Still buried to the brim in your moist pussy, cock throbbing and pulsing against your walls, his hands reached for the straps that were forever connected to the headboard at this point. Not long after you being sexually active with Dylan, you had discovered the man’s kinky habits - one being the desire to bind you as he fucked you relentlessly. After a trial run, the straps were simply left where he could easily access them at any point.

That’s how you found your wrists bound above your head, unable to touch the flawless skin of your boyfriend. You were left helpless, under his ever-watchful eye. You were under his control, only able to scream as he pleased you. You submitted yourself to him, letting him pound you into the mattress.

“Oh god, yes!” you screamed, head thrown back. Your nails dug into your palms, unable to hold him and scratch along his skin like you wished. The thrusts were powerful, shoving your body deep into the bed. Dylan’s gaze swapped between your face and his cock, watching the way he slid out and the way it made your face contort in happiness. “Just like that, Dyl. Fuck me, just like that!”

“God, I love when you moan my name,” Dylan groaned, leaning back to adjust your legs.

Your knees were bent back, making your core tighter for the man pleasing you. His hands sat against the backside of your thighs, pushed them back and himself upright. Supporting his weight on his feet and knees, his thrusts became more abrasive, quickly and strongly pushing into you. The tip found your g-spot every time he slammed into you, the length of his cock sliding heavenly against your walls that clung to every inch of him desperately.

Your moans were dirty and loud, screaming his name incessantly. Dylan grinned widely, licking his lips. “That’s right, baby. Moan for me. Moan and scream my name like the dirty little girl you are. I want to hear you moan until you are cumming all over my cock again.”

“Oh god,” you whimpered, screwing your eyes shut. The husky from his voice and the seductive words he uttered made your stomach churn. It had already been tight with the coil that began to form when he first slid his cock into you, but you were on the verge of snapping. The way his cock slid in and out of you, the way he pressed into the spot that made stars appear before your eyes, the warm touch of his hands on your skin as he held you in place while making you his personal fuck toy.

You were done for before you could even utter it.

Uneven breaths left your lips as you came, spilling your juices around him. Your walls closed, hugging around him as you released everything you had along his cock, making it somewhat easier to slide into you. The warmth and moisture of your pussy, as well as the tightness, made the man gasp in pleasure. His thrusts grew sloppy, losing control quickly - but he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop until you were through your entire high and he had cum inside you once more.

He watched you writhe under him through your entire orgasm, your breasts bouncing with his thrusts, going from left to right as you wiggled through your high. Your hair was splayed across the pillows, rose petals twisted between the strands. Your body was glowing, partially from sweat and partially from bliss. Dylan loved the way you looked under him, left helpless at his pleasurable hand.

You let out a pleased mewl that overshadowed Dylan’s grunts when he came shortly after your orgasm had passed. His seed spilled out into you, white strands shooting from the tip and filling your core completely. His juices mixed with your own, warming your lower abdomen. His motions slowed, becoming a slow push that lasted until every last drop had been milked from him, the tip of his cock still dripping slightly when he pulled out. He was glistening thanks to the juices you left along his skin, the man admiring the outcome.

He left you tied up while rushing to the bathroom, returning to clean you of the mess he had made. The towel was casually discarded on the floor afterwards, your arms released. Dylan curled up in his normal spot, dragging the blankets over your sweaty forms. You curled into his side, nestled into his neck, ready to pass out from the exhaustion that was settling into your body.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he whispered, pushing your hair back and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“I hate you,” you mumbled, cracking one eye open to see him. “You gave me all of this. Now I feel bad.”

“Why?”

You pouted, huffing in childish annoyance. “You did all of this for me. Made us a romantic evening. And what about me? All I got you was a new picture frame and this little handmade jar of reasons I love you.”

“And I will appreciate it no matter what because it came from you,” he hummed with a smile. “For now, just sleep. You need it after your day.”

“Fine. But we aren’t done talking about this.”

“Fine,” Dylan laughed, holding you close as you fell into a deep sleep.

~

The smell of pancakes woke you up the next morning. Squirming in the bed, the spot next to you were vacant and cold. A low groan escaped your mouth while rolling out of bed, finding a button up shirt in Dylan’s closet that you swam in. It draped to your thighs, buttoned to your collarbone. You didn’t bother to find some underwear or a bra. You left the room in search of the sweet smell of food.

You stopped to admire the view in the kitchen upon entrance. Leaning against the door frame, you were greeted with the bare buttocks of Dylan. The only thing the man was wearing was an apron that said ‘Kiss the Cook’, the bow neatly done around his back. He was humming happily while flipping some pancakes. You could already picture the bright grin plastered on his face. The table was already set, bacon, eggs and cups of orange juice prepped for consumption. Plates were covered with napkins, and some fresh flowered sat in the normally empty vase in the center of the table. Your face flushed slightly at the sight of the table, remembering the ruckus that was made on it only hours previously.

He must have heard you walking towards him because he didn’t seem surprised when your arms encircled his waist, burrowing your face between his shoulder blades. A deep chuckle rumbled from within him, making you smile. He could only spare one hand placed on yours, the other carefully removing the last of the pancakes from the pan.

“Good morning, my sweetest,” Dylan hummed happily.

“Good morning, my love,” you replied, kissing his back. “I see you made breakfast.”

“Of course,” Dylan cooed, turning the burner off before turning around, your head now resting on his chest. “Nothing is complete after a romantic night together until you’ve had a fulfilling breakfast with the most beautiful girl ever.”

“Is that so?”

“It is,” the man mused, kissing you lightly. “Now, go get settled at the table while I finish the pancakes just the way you like them.”

“Chocolate, fruit and whipped cream?”

“All the things we just used last night for the best night ever,” was his response, shamelessly reminding you of the things you did together. Your face lit up, smacking his chest with your open palm. “Sorry, sorry! I can’t help but remember it!”

“I hate you.”

“I love you too.”

Sharing a short kiss, you shuffled your way towards the table, taking your normal seat. You watched Dylan from the corner of your eye drizzling the pancakes in chocolate syrup, cheeks burning at the reminder that he had just covered you in said chocolate, licking it off every orifice of your being. The proceeded with some chopped strawberries, and lastly, grabbed the can of whipped cream that was unopened in the fridge. Your mind was racing seeing the can, picturing the man nude in bed, dotted with the white cream.

Shaking your head quickly as he approached with the plate of pancakes, you grabbed the napkin from the plate, preparing to spread it over your lap. But you stopped. Under the napkin, on the plate, was a small black box. Staring at the box, your mind was racing with a million jumbled thoughts, none coming together coherently. The napkin slipped from your grasp to the floor, blinking at it.

“Dyl?” you started.

“Yes, my sweet?”

“What is this?”

Dylan looked to where you were pointing as he placed the pancakes on the table, his grin widening. “Why don’t you open it and look?”

Your mouth fell open. “You didn’t get me another gift, did you?” you whined. “Dyl, you got me enough already!”

“Just open it, babe,” he said calmly.

You frowned at his tone, taking the small box from the plate. It was velvety to the touch, fitting perfectly in the palm of your hand. It squeaked when you pulled it open, gawking at what was inside.

“Dylan…”

“Yes?” he hummed, almost expectedly.

“Why is there a ring in this box?” you asked, staring at the diamonds glistening back at you. The band was a sterling silver that shone under the lights above your head. There were 4 small diamonds lining the top of the band, twinkling in your irises.

Dylan smiled, hiding it with his hand. “Why else would I be giving you a ring?”

You blinked, staring at the ring before looking up at him with wide eyes. “Are you trying to say…?”

“Yes,” he finished when you didn’t complete you question. The man crouched beside you, taking the ring from the box in one hand and your hand in his other. “I’m asking you, Y/N L/N, if you will marry me. You make me the happiest man in the worst. You are the most unique person I have ever encountered. You are smart and funny and talented beyond belief. You are beautiful and I can never get you out of my head. I have enjoyed every minute of my life with you and I don’t want that to stop. I want to spend every day for the rest of my life with you. I want you to be mine until the day I die. I want to have a family with you. I want to marry you. So, what do you say? Will you marry me? Will you be my wife?”

At this point, you were in tears, the droplets rolling down your cheeks. Your cheeks were hurting from the grin you held, nodding feverishly to answer his question seeing as you couldn’t muster the words. Words came out as croaks, unfinished phrases of garbled mess. The answer was clear, though. Dylan sniffled slightly, holding back his own tears. His hand shook, slipping the ring on your finger until it was in place, perfectly fitting on your finger.

Your hands cupped his cheeks, pulling him into a passionate kiss. He was eager to return it, smiling against your soft, plump lips. “God, I love you,” he murmured into the kiss.

“I love you too,” you laughed. “You know, now we are that cliché couple that got engaged on Valentine’s Day.”

“Day after,” he clarified, giving you one more kiss before moving to his seat.

“Technicalities, my sweet.”

“Hey!” he huffed. “That’s my name for you!”

“Yeah, but I think you are the sweetest thing here after everything you did for Valentine’s day. This will be a day I will never forget,” you told him, flashing him a smile before looking back down at the ring.

“Well, exactly how sweet am I?” he toyed, leaning on the table with a smirk.

“As sweet as the chocolate on those pancakes that you aren’t serving up. Get to it, dude! I’m starving!”

“Fine, fine!” he chuckled. “How many?”

“All of them.”

“Why am I spending the rest of my life with you again?” he asked.

“Because I’m sweet,” you cooed.

“Damn straight.”

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