#Our control is very neatly tied into distance from where we started. At the end of every run we lose control once we're past the big door.

[not-the-conversation-starter]

i believe chara is not a demon (mythological) but a daemon (computing)

[levi-ships-eruri]

Levi Ackerman NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Levi is a cleanliness freak and after a few moments of holding you and making sure that you are okay, he would get up and change the sheets. Means, you have to get up, too. And while you are up, you should go and take a shower. He will join you there and MAYBE this will lead to a second round. However, he will definitely make sure you are alright, clean, and safe. And tbh, there is no better feeling than going back to bed with Levi and cuddle into the fresh sheets.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Levi is quite confident about his body despite his height. On himself, he especially likes his hands and his long, slender, and calloused fingers. They are quite aestethic and he knows how to use them on you, reaching places inside you that your own fingers cannot reach. However, these hands are also shed in blood. Therefore he loves to see that his hands can also be soft and caring on your body, and bring pleasure instead of death.

On you, Levi is definitely an ass and thigh kind of guy. But his favourite body part of you is your face: eyes, lips, nose, jawline... He loves when you glance over to him from the other side of the room, a little smile on your lips. He loves the blush tinting your cheeks. He loves the soft look in your eyes when you tell him that you love him. He loves to see you let loose when you come on him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Levi HATES to make a mess. So when he comes, he comes inside of you. He also thinks this is quite intimate and therefore likes it (plus, secretly thinking he is marking you. Boy sometimes is insecure). When it comes to oral, he wouldn’t force you to swallow. If you wanna spit it out, he would hand you a tissue. Same if something drips out of your mouth because sometimes he comes A LOT.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Levi is pretty vocal about sex and wouldn’t hide something from you, not even the awkward first-time-stories. But there is one thing he is shy talking about... he is not one to share his partner. EXCEPT for the two persons he trusts the most: Hanji and Erwin. Levi caught himself thinking about a threesome with his partner and one of them (or...a foursome...no too much trouble), but he would not dare to bring it up. He would be super embarassed if Erwin turned down the idea and he wouldn’t want Hanji to tell everybody or to brag about it (they would do this, let’s be honest).

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Levi is over 30 years old, so he had gathered some experience. He started in the underworld, not necessarily because of need, but because he thinks it is something he is...supposed to do? Something that was normal for people to do? Later he also had sex when he needed to release some anger, and only later started to really enjoy it and to think about what techniques would please his partner. So, when the two of you start having sex, this guy knows what he does and is willing to learn everything about you and your preferations.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy: He loves to push you down, a hand between your shoulders, your ass up in the air, pounding into you.

Missonary: Levi is a broken man and he loves to hold you close to him and bury his face into the crock of your neck.

Sitting: Both of you sitting, your legs wrapped around him, bodies closely pressed together, hand and lips everywhere they can reach. It is the most intimate position for the really emotional times.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Levi is pretty serious in the bedroom, but he will make cocky remarks and smile a lot (sometimes also cocky, sometimes soft). Sometimes you will break out laughing because he cannot shut his shitmouth and will say something downright ridiculous.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

His hair down there is dark as well and neatly groomed, maybe even completely shaved. He is aware that bodyhair does not have anything to do with bad hygene, but he just feels better shaved or groomed. Levi’s body hair (and facial hair) also takes a lot of time to grow due to his time in the underground, but in this case it is rather beneficial for him.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Levi is super intimate. Not necessarily overly romantic, but intimate. This is something between you and him, something special. So unless it is a quicky during stressful times, he will take his time and make sure that both of you feel good and loved. Often having sex with him is the closest you ever feel to him because Levi can show his affection better by acts than by words. Afterwards you sometimes have the deepest conversations.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Levi’s sex drive is not the highest and he has no problem with not jerking off for a while. When he feels the need to do it, he will do it during his super effective shower sessions because this way it wouldn’t make a mess. 

However, when he is in a relationship, his longing gets stronger. If he cannot see you for some time or if the two of you just cannot find any time for the do, he will have a frustrating jack-off session, which only causes his need for you to grow.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Captain Kink: Levi likes to take the dominant part. He likes to hear you call him Heichou in bed, but not too often (he loves his name from your lips even more).

Bondage: Levi loves to tie you up and make you squirm beneath him. Orgasm denial is not a real kink of him, BUT he will do it all the time when you are tied up. When he gives you oral in this state, you can be sure it will take at least AN HOUR before he lets you cum.

Stockings: Since he is a leg guy, he enjoys seeing you wearing stockings. And he wouldn’t admit, but seeing you taking on your boots and gear the next morning is a huge turn on for him. He cannot wait to take them off again in th evening.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His bed or the floor of his room, where he has control over the mess the two of you make.

His desk. It will make much more of a mess and will make a chaos out of his paperwork, but he is a sucker for the view of you sprawled out on his desk.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Levi is actually pretty hard to seduce, which makes flirting with him really hard. He notices the flirting, of course, but is good at ignoring it. As already mentioned, he gets pretty turned on when you get dressed into your boots and gear.

Whenyou spend the day apart from eachother,  glancing at each other from a distance, waiting for the night to finally come.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Degrading: Apart from public belief, Levi would NEVER degrade you because he hates being degraded so much. His whole life has been a pain so far, so why should he take this into the bedroom, where he just wants to show his partner his love?

He would also not hurt you. Maybe a few spanks or some very light choking and hair pulling, but he would never ever hurt you in any way. Same reason as above.

Don’t. Call. Him. Daddy. He thinks this is super weird. Just stay with his name or Heichou/Captain.

Anything including piss or feces. Just no.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Levi highly enjoys receiving oral, especially when he is sitting and you on your knees in fron of him. When you blow him, he will finally let loose and you can see his face slightly being tinted red, eyes closed, lips a little apart. His hand will be in your hair all the time and towards the end he cannot hold back and will thrust into your mouth once or twice. His low grunts get a little more high pitched when you run your tongue around his tip.

But Levi is also pretty talented in giving. As mentioned before, he likes to tease you with his mouth, loving the feeling of you squirming beneath him. Be prepared for a lot of edging, cause that little gremlin is a sucker for your desperate moans.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Levi is a little more on the rougher side. His thrusts are deep and strong, his pace rather “average” at the start, but he gets faster in the course of the act. If the two of you have some time, he will vary his rhythm, from slow and sensual to fast and strong, and back again. Quickies will be, as the name suggest, as quick as possible.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Oh, talking about quickies: If you are in a relationship with Levi or anything like this, quickies will happen very often. He is a busy man und you most likely will also be part of the survey corps, so you need to use every little space of time you can get. This often results in steamy sessions in the forest against a tree, or a more private session in his office.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

So, semi public sex, like in the forest, is a thing. But he would always make sure to not get caught, especially not by some cadets.

Apart from that, he is pretty open in bed. Tell him what you would like to try and he will most likely agree, as long as it is nothing from his no go list. If he picks up something new (thanks to Hanji most probably) he will also not shy away from bringing it up and ask you about it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Oh boi, we are talking about Levi. When the two of you have a whole night, you have to be the one to stop him at some point - for your own sake. Levi can go for several rounds, even the whole night and this can easily be too much for someone without special power.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

So let’s imagine a more modern setting, because I think there are no sex toys in our common sense on Paradise Island. In a modern world, Levi would definitely get and try out some sex toys, especially vibrators which he could use on his partner. He would also be a little curious to try them out on himself, but he rather uses them for teasing you. He would have like 2 or 3 items, not too much, not too fancy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Ohhh, be prepared for a lot of teasing. Levi enjoys to have a little power over you and your pleasure, and he will make use of it. He is especially unfair when it comes to oral, holding your hips in place while he is taking is sweet time to pleasure you. It drives you mad and this man has a lot of patience.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Levi is not really loud, but his soft little grunts and moans are like music. He only gets a little louder when you tease him while giving him head, but he will also scold you for it. That shitmouth. Otherwise, you will hear him whisper “fuck” and “shit” while he is pounding into you and coming close to his climax.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Levi is quite curious when it comes to new techniques. Soon after joining the squad, he  discovers that Hanji has quite an interesting collection of books with...a lot of explanations and images. So one day, he asks them to borrow some of these books to study them. But before, he threatens Hanji with death if they tell anyone.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Have you seen Levi’s season 4 arts? This man is packed, damn. Errected I would say he is between 7′0 and 8′0. So Levi’s dick is pretty average in girth, but long. He knows how to use it as good as he uses his swords.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Levi’s sex drive is pretty low, since he is not a horny teen anymore. Of course, he feels the need from time to time, but he can pretty good control himself. When he is in a relationship, however, his sex drive will grow a lot, since it is one of the ways of showing you how much he loves you. If the two of you have time, you will easily have sex 3 or 4 times a week.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Levi only sleeps 3 hours per night, and this will not change after sex. He often holds you until you are asleep and gets up afterwards, to either sleep at his desk or do some paperworks. He will, however, make sure to be back in bed when you wake up.

[candlelight27]

Chapter 1: The Call Of Yesterday

Summary: Sylvain has been ignoring you since you met him. You had been in love with him since you met him. College is about to offer you a fresh start. New academic year, new life. You were ready to forget him. But fate seems to have other plans... (COLLEGE AU)

Series: Seeking Your Warmth If Only For A Day

Warnings: Not so unrequited love, Sylvain being an asshole, curse words

Pairings: Sylvain Jose Gautier x Female Reader

Word Count: 3617

AO3: The Call Of Yesterday

A/N:  Okay, my aim is not for this College AU to be faithful to reality, but to incarnate my own college fantasy. I’m tring to use a lot of characters to make it interesting. Anyways, come talk to me! Send me your suggestions, your comments, your thoughts... And enjoy this fic!

“This is going to be my year”, you told yourself as you got ready for your first day of university. You were brushing your hair and styling it the way Dorothea suggested, since she always knew what would suit everyone’s features. You wanted to be perfect because that was going to be a special day.

Your mind wandered off into the days you spent in Garreg Mach High School. You smiled softly at the reminiscence, since some of the most beautiful memories you harboured took place there, between those cherished halls. Prom night, summer c88uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

amps, the sports club... You were going to miss that time, but you had to move on.

For that matter, it was about time you moved on from a certain thorn in your heart. One that had been bothering you for years. Of course, that thorn had a name, a middle name, and a surname, all too well known to everyone at Garreg Mach.

Sylvain Jose Gautier.

Your own particular unrequited love story.

Your crush on him was kept a secret throughout all high school, naturally. How could it not be? You had fell for the most renowned womanizer of your year – probably the most renowned womanizer of the whole history of your school. He was handsome, he was intelligent, he was nonchalant and carefree, yes, but he also was an asshole, and you didn’t want your friends acknowledging the fact that you had fell fully for his tricks. However, there was something quite worse than falling for the corny clichés and shameless lines Sylvain constantly used. Something far worse than melting with his every word and dying to be the girls whose cheeks he made blush. And infinitely worse than spending all your breaks trying to catch a glance of his fiery hair around the corners of the building.

The thing is that Sylvain had never spared a second glance to you. He hadn’t even tried to flirt you, unlike he did with the whole female community.

That complete banishment was what mortified you the most in your romantic ordeal.

You remembered that time Ingrid introduced you to her childhood friends, Dimitri, Felix and Sylvain. They had gone to the field to cheer her during a football match of your high school team. You had heard of them before and saw them often on the corridors, but you had never crossed a word with any of them, as they were in Ingrid’s class and not yours. You were quite excited to finally talk to Sylvain, for you had been looking at him in the distance ever since Ingrid started telling you stories about him. Yet while your heart pounced like a runaway horse, he only muttered a ‘hi’ and disappeared into thin air.

“Apologise our friend. He’s always off to chase skirts, it’s nothing personal”, tried to explain Dimitri, ever the gentleman.

The next few times you met him, he merely pronounced monosyllables to your efforts of striking up a conversation. Even Ingrid commented on how dry his behaviour was when you were there. How could love appear out of nowhere? It was probably the stupidity of puberty. But your desire was out of control and you couldn’t help going back to him. To those light brown eyes that seemed to melt your heart…

But it was all water under the bridge. You grew up. That silly attraction ongoing for years was going to meet its end with your fresh start at university. Your teenage love was gone with the wind.

You had all summer to psych yourself up and forget him. So far so good. No nigh-time fantasies to keep suffering, no fateful encounters to revive the forgotten flame, nothing to remind you of Sylvain.

You even went on a date with Ferdinand, something completely new for you. It was Dorothea, always meddling in your love life, who had set you up with him when she wormed out of you that you liked redheads. She was convinced your lifelong crush was Ferdinand, because you had been on the same class since you were kids. After such a pompous announce of your date with him, you almost felt bad for your brunette friend as you told her how horribly wrong your date was, but in the end you both laughed about it.

So, yes. You were indeed free from the fetters that Sylvain had bounded without realizing. Or so you thought. You didn’t want to think about that small trace of doubt that told you it would all be in vain the second you see him again after summer break.

“This is going to be my year…”, you repeated out loud as a chant while you gathered your things for your lessons.

“Are you ready?”, asked Ingrid from another room. She was now your flatmate, on one hand because a sudden friendship had bloomed during the holidays, on the other hand because Dorothea was stuck with a new exchange student, Petra, and Mercedes couldn’t be separated from Annette, so you both ended up alone and it seemed the obvious solution. You didn’t complain, you liked her company and things were working just fine.

“Yes!”, you answered and joined her in the entrance, rucksack on your back and phone on your hand.

Her blonde hair was tied neatly in a long braid and her clothes were comfortable yet formal, just like her usual self. She seemed excited for the fresh start, too, as she rushed to talk about the upcoming lessons.

You left the student’s residence, following a couple of groups of people you didn’t know. It was a sunny morning, thus the beams of light shone right though the leaves, already changing their colours at autumn’s pace. While you walked, Ingrid was checking her phone for new messages.

“Are you talking to the guys?”, you asked as you wondered about Sylvain’s schedule in silence – not that you were interested, you wanted to make sure you avoided him –. You didn’t want to be too straightforward, because even the most oblivious person, Ingrid in this case, would notice there was something going on if you were too invested in his affairs, so you were cautious.

“Oh, right now I’m talking to Ashe.” She smiled, still typing. You raised your eyebrows.

“I thought you weren’t that close to him.”

“He’s attending all my lessons so I’m checking a few things with him”, she answered. You nodded and checked your own phone.

Dorothea (08:45): I’m waiting for you on Anna’s Café.

Dorothea (08:45): HURRY UP YOU ARE SLOWER THAN MY GRANNY

“Dorothea’s waiting ahead for us”, you commented.

“Who are you sharing lessons with?”, Ingrid questioned, putting her phone away in her pocket. You hadn’t seen her so interested in the machine ever – you’d have to figure out if it was Ashe’s fault.

“I’m not sure!”, you said. “I think I’m sharing subjects with some of the Golden Deers… Marianne, Lysithea, Claude… Also, Mercedes and Bernadetta.” You weren’t that close to any of them in particular. You sometimes hoped you had closer friends with you, but at least it was a good opportunity to become closer to new people.

“That’s quite the group! All the houses of Garreg Mach mixed!”, the blonde exclaimed. She was right, it was going to be quite the sight – and an exciting adventure, too, you supposed. “Yesterday Sylvain told me he’s going to be in my first lesson today along with Felix, and on some other ones. But the ones who got the same itinerary as me are Dimitry and Ashe, so I’m going to see them often.” She made a pause, as if imagining the future. You, on the other hand, were delighted to hear you weren’t going to share classes with Sylvain. “Leonie and Edelgard have chosen that itinerary too –”

“Hello!” Dorothea sprang to you, dressed in the latest trend, as always. Her smile was radiant.

“Hi, Dorothea! We were talking about who’s on our classes”, commented Ingrid.

“I’m with Hilda! I was hoping some handsome boys would be on my classes but Hilda said she did the research and was quite disappointed.” Dorothea sighed but suddenly called your name. “Claude is in your class, right?” You nodded with caution. “Didn’t you get along with Claude?” You nodded again, furrowing your brows in suspicion. “You could ask him out!”

Ingrid started laughing while Dorothea’s voice was a sweet giggle.

“Playing the matchmaker again, Dorothea?” Ingrid tried to calm herself. “Last time, it was a disaster.”

“Yes, sorry for that”, offered Dorothea.

“Don’t sweat it”, you said, shaking your head humorously.

“But”, the singer wasn’t one to let things go, “he’s actually very hot. Everyone with eyes can see that. And he’s really easy going, unlike Ferdinand. And smart! You must have a lot in common –”

“I’m fine.” You had repeated the same many times. Your friends were trying to set you up on dates lately. “I can manage myself pretty well.”

“You could use a little stress relief though…” Ingrid blushed this time hearing Dorothea’s words. Noticing the silence, the brunette continued. “This goes for you too, Ingrid!”

“That’s not true!”

“Anyways, where’s Petra?” You tried to divert her attention as you were approaching your building.

“She had to sign some documents, so she must be in the main office,” informed Dorothea with a bright smile, her good mood contagious.

“I want to meet her”, said Ingrid, who hadn’t moved yet when you all were acquainted with the student from Brigid. You hadn’t shared more than a few greetings, but she was getting really close to her flatmate.

“We are going to throw a party at my house next week or the other!”, Dorothea announced with excitement. “If you don’t bump into her before, you’ll get to know here there.”

Even though you knew Dorothea’s parties tended to get out of hand, they were always fun, and it could be a great start for something new. You would have to work hard to convince Ingrid, who didn’t like going out that much.

And like that, you reached your destination and parted from them.

The halls of the place where you’d spend your next course studying were filled with students. All seemed to be trying to find the right way to their new classrooms. Chatter filled the air as you read the indications on your phone. It was confusing finding your way in the intricate web of corridors and doors.

“Where is room 122?”, you muttered and chewed your lip.

You found the room 121, but room 122 wasn’t nowhere in sight. You looked at the map, and figured it had to be around the next corner, so you kept walking to the direction you thought was right. You saw your phone, and it was almost 9 a.m., so you increased your rhythm. Then, you turned left.

Only to bump into someone. More specifically, someone’s chest.

You were quite confused as you fell on your butt and your backpack flew. Your bottom ached. Disoriented, you let out a faint ‘sorry’, but you were not sure to who it was directed. When you processed the situation, and that you were indeed going to be late on your very first day of university, you lifted your glance with the intention of getting up fast and entering your classroom.

Yet light brown eyes that seemed to melt your heart stared back at you.

“Are you all right?” The question was announced by a smooth, rich voice.

It was Sylvain.

Shit.

You felt a rush of nervousness that run all over your body. You tried articulating a sentence, a word, anything to play it off cool, but your tongue didn’t respond, so you simply nodded. You weren’t okay, but he didn’t need to know that. Sylvain seemed quite surprised. His luscious lips were parted slightly, his pupils were fixed on you, and he remained as still as a statue, which only added to your agitation. At last, as if he was awakened from a trance, he rose his eyebrows and extended his hand.

“Sorry, let me help you.”

You grabbed your rucksack and took his hand. It was warm, soft, and strong. Sylvain helped you up and you could see you were right in front of your classroom.

“I have to… go to my first lesson”, you said as you pointed at the door.

“Oh, yes. Me too”, he flashed you an award-winning smile of his, totally recomposed of the mishap. “I think we share itineraries.”

“I thought you were… with Felix. And Ingrid,” you said. Inside of you, your thoughts were rioting. This couldn’t be true, you repeated yourself over and over. Half of you was trying to stay calm and affirm yourself that your stupid crush was over. The other half was sheltering some kind of hope you didn’t have time to identify. What was clear was that the redhead managed to break all of your expectations once again and you didn’t like it one bit. Of course, you put on a blank face, totally disconnected from your real feelings.

“Yes, right. I switched itineraries this morning”, he extended his hand and hold the doorknob. “My father signed me up for the one he wanted without any kind of regard to what I wanted in life… So, yeah, thankfully I had time to change everything before it was too late.” He opened the door for you.

“That’s… nice”, you smiled timidly.

“We’ll see each other often, then.” You entered the lecture room and Sylvain walked behind. It was big and spacious, and it was full of students. But at that time, it was as if only Sylvain existed. You’d have to get used to his presence in your lessons. A new challenge, but you were going to ignore him anyways.

Sylvain bid you farewell with a ‘see you’ and took a seat next to Mercedes.

You looked around to see where you could see. You saw a smiling Claude waving at you, right next to Lysithea and Marianne, and making gestures for you to come closer. “Sit with us!”, you barely understood what he said with all the chatter in the room, but his body language left no doubt.

“Hi!”, exclaimed Lysithea, looking cheerful and determined as always. Marianne looked collected and waved her hand. They both seemed much more mature after summer break.

“I’m glad to see you here! Just in time.” Claude moved his books in order to make some room for you at his side. You took the seat and settled there.

“Nice to see some familiar faces here”, you told the Almyran.

“I wonder what this year has in store for us…”, he continued, but he couldn’t finish the rest.

A young professor appeared. He looked like another student, but you could sense the authoritarian aura around him. His short hair was dark blue, and he wore black clothes. This new face sparked your curiosity, and although you were dying to turn your head and see what Sylvain was doing, you forced yourself our of your own trap. ‘Focus! You’re here to study, dammit!’, you chastised yourself.

“My name is Byleth and I’m going to teach ‘Fódlan’s history and culture’”, started the new professor.

Then, Byleth proceeded to give a long, detailed, and boring speech about the bureaucratic minutiae related his subject. It was completely tedious. He went over percentages, grading systems, schedules, credits and so on. He was really testing your will at not being distracted.

Rather than yielding to temptation, you turned around to see what Claude was doing. He was stretching like a cat and yawning. When he realised you were looking at him, he winked at you. You weren’t expecting it, so you nervously smirked and looked elsewhere. You swore it was a coincidence that your glance just happened to fall upon the infamous womanizer of Garreg Mach.

Unexpectedly, your eyes met with Sylvain’s. You decided your safest option was looking at your professor and finally paying attention.

What was happening that disastrous day? The Goddess herself must have been punishing you. You felt like you lost a war to your heart. You thought you had finished the chapter where all you did was thinking about Sylvain, you were going to date someone else, maybe fall in love and, above all, you were going to avoid returning to those years head over heels for someone who didn’t even know your name – or at least you supposed so, since he had never said it. Instead of the sensible thing, your whole being decided to betray your will, and you were all flushed and flustered with a single look of that man. It didn’t matter it was the first time he paid attention to you or that your longest conversation had been held that very same day. It didn’t matter to your dumb heart, which-

“This project will be done in pairs and it’s about the 25-30% of the final grade.” Oh, you might have wanted to pay attention to that, now that Byleth was saying something quite important.

“What did he say?”, you asked Claude.

“Too busy giving Sylvain the eye?”, he remarked, a satisfied smirk on the side of his face.

“Claude!”, you tried to scold him, but as you were whispering, it sounded like a high-pitched yell of guilt. Just like your feelings.

“Okay, okay. No need to get your knickers in a twist”, he couldn’t resist teasing you. “There’s this big project, 30% of the final grade or so. We have to research a topic he will give.” He sighed. “The professor also added that he’s going to assign the partners. I know it’s for our own good, for the sake of team working and all that boring paraphernalia, but it kind of sucks.”

“Maybe we’ll be lucky and we will be able to work together”, you tried to look at the bright side.

“As much as I’d love that, I think it’d be far more interesting if you got paired with someone else we know…”, he trailed off, testing the waters.

“I don’t know what you are talking about”, you sentenced.

“I’m not a fool. I know you’ve liked him since high school”. That, you weren’t expecting it. You hadn’t been exactly secretive with your longing staring, but you hadn’t been expecting the master of gossip to be after your very own secret. “Don’t make that face. I didn’t tell anyone, but you can’t fool me.”

“Just don’t tell Dorothea or I’m not going to hear the end of it”, you surrendered and pleaded. What was the use of hiding it longer? Besided, Claude made you feel comfortable and you though that he might be the right person to help you.

“Don’t worry. Just, why him?”, he wondered.

“I… It’s something beyond my control. It’s like I was condemned to love him and I can’t escape by any means. Like a force of fate is controlling me.” Now that you got to put it to word… it was the perfect description to how you felt. And you wondered how that could be.

“And how come you haven’t hooked up yet?” He laughed again at your expression of shame. “He’s Sylvain! Come on!”

“He ignored me. As in, he had never talked to me in high school”, it actually felt better than you imagined having someone to talk to. And Claude always kept quiet about other’s matters. He knew everyone’s secrets, but he never told any.

“That’s… weird. I will investigate that.” He placed his hand on his chin and his expression turned meditative. “He seems interested in you now, tough.”

“What do you mean?”, you couldn’t believe him. But something told you that it must be true if it was Claude who noticed it.

“He’s been looking at you for 40 minutes.”

You turned around and, in effect, Sylvain was looking at you. This time, it was him who moved away his gaze, a bit embarrassed to have been caught.

“So, from what I’ve seen,” Claude started to sum up, “you are trying to ignore him – don’t deny it, I’ve seen you stealing glances – because he had rejected you all high school. But now he’s flirty and charming, so you are on square one.”

“Yes, you could say so.” You were ashamed, but eager to see where he was going.

“There’s only one solution.” He moved his head closer to you, as if it was a conspiration.

“What is it?” He decidedly had captured you then, and you moved your head closer to hear him better.

“Play it along. See what happens. Don’t implicate yourself too much, but find out what changed.”

Right before you could answer, Lysithea shushed you. The professor was beginning to announce the pairs. As expected, most of your friends ended up with an unknown partner. Marianne was lucky and was set to work with Mercedes, one of the sweetest girls you knew. Bernadetta, who you hadn’t noticed until that moment, was paired with a girl called Monica, who seemed eerily familiar. Your name hadn’t been said, and neither did Sylvain’s, much to Claude’s delight.

After a long list of surnames, you didn’t recognise, it was your turn. While your name left your professors lips, your eyes widened. You raised your hand so Byleth could identify you with the name.

“Okay. There. Your partner will be…”, he was scanning the remaining names, for the list was almost finished. “Sylvain Jose Gautier.”

“Fate has decided for you”, Claude commented. You looked at Sylvain, and he had the audacity to smirk and wink at you. Outrageous.

You were then sure of it. Sothis was laughing at you. How were you supposed to survive this year?

[elefics]

torment / chapter 1

First chapter for torment! Basically setting up Lyla’s character and background, and how she ended up at the Academy. The juicy stuff is coming soon hehe 

As long as I can remember, as a kid, I felt like I didn't belong. I didn't fit in, and always felt just slightly out of place. Like, don't get me wrong, I could probably have led a normal, relatively happy life outside of the coven. But I would never have found my place.

One of my earliest memories is levitating during recess in third grade.

I was playing hide and seek with my best friends – but everyone is your best friend at that age, or so I thought. It was one of those moments...when you're hiding in a dark corner of the playground, breathing hard from the adrenaline coursing through your tiny body at the thought of being found, smelling bark and sweat and salami sandwiches, where time and space doesn't exist. You're so focused on hiding, on making yourself invisible and winning the game, that you forget who and where you are. I forgot. And I paid the price.

When I finally opened my eyes, I wasn't in a dark corner of the playground. I was floating seven feet in the air, and below me were the horrified expressions of my friends and teachers. Frozen in time. That moment is frozen in my memory forever. It was the first time that I realised I wasn't just weird, but special. There were powers inside me that other people, and even myself, didn't understand yet.

My teachers, missing a handbook on protocol for dealing with young witches coming into their powers, did the only thing they knew to do - sent me to the office. The other kids were still shaking like leaves, hiding behind our teachers' legs like toddlers.

My mother picked me up an hour later. I ignored the concerned glares of the office ladies. Mom and I got McDonald's, like we always did when I had a doctor's appointment or a day off. At the time, it felt completely natural. I thought she just 'got it', like floating in mid-air was a regular Tuesday occurrence. In hindsight, I remember her staring at me with a mix of fear and awe through the rear-view mirror. She was shitting herself, and didn't know what to do next.

She sent me back to school the next day, which was the worst possible option.

The other kids had grown braver and meaner overnight. I was their new favourite toy and punching bag. They called me a witch, and I took it as an insult. (If only I knew!) They called me evil, ugly, dirty. They said I'd grow fat moles and that my skin would turn green. They told me to stay away from them. So I did.

Within a month, I didn't have a single friend. They were repulsed and terrified of me, but loved to poke fun from a distance. All I wanted to do was play handball or tag.

"Lyla. Enough is enough." Mom said one night over dinner.

I was playing with the food on my plate, but not with a fork. I made them spin and dance, like a potato and broccoli ballet. My face fell, and so did my dinner, collapsing sadly onto the ceramic. Gravy splattered onto my thumb.

I apologised. I learned to push my powers deep down inside of me. Whenever I felt like they'd spill out, I pinched the skin near my knee. It kept me grounded and in control.

In tenth grade, I pinched myself so hard I bruised. It still wasn't enough.

I'd kept to myself and stayed out of everybody's way, from my mother to my teachers. I was the quiet polite girl who sat in the back of class and got her homework in on time. I minded my own fucking business. That was, until Mrs Brooks called me a freak in front of our entire geography class.

Mrs Brooks ended up with a broken arm and I ended up in the principal's office. I hadn't actually touched her at all, and I guess that was what scared my teachers. I hadn't been called into an office since third grade. Mom was already there, sitting in one of the black fold-out chairs, with her keys in her hand and glassy eyes. She held a few sheets of paper in her hands. Signing me out, surely. We'd be at the drive-thru in twenty minutes.

Mr Petersen, our grey-haired principal with a passion for 'fun' ties, sat beside my mother, with his hands neatly in his lap. He had been whispering softly to Mom, but stopped as soon as I approached. He looked at me with sad, brown eyes.

His tie had dinosaurs on it. It feels stupid that that is the one thing I remember so clearly.

"Hi," I said quietly from the doorway. I scrunched the hem of my tee-shirt up in my hand.

The disappointment was palpable. Mom ignored me completely, like looking up at me would make it all so much worse. She stared at my converse, or the carpet, or the fish tank humming gently by the door. Anything but me. Her leg bounced up and down, like she'd had too many coffees that morning. But it was two in the afternoon and her nerves had nothing to do with caffeine.

Two men in suits approached the office. For a moment the sinking feeling in my stomach froze me in place, blocking the door. Shaking off the feeling, I stepped aside to let the men in. Their suits were far too nice for a small town like ours. I'd assumed they were here for some important government business with the principal.

They smiled softly and shook their heads, almost in sync.

"Mom? What's going on?" I asked. Panic was bubbling in my throat like bile.

The realisation came as one single, simple thought: They're here for me.

Their hands were tight around my upper arms and wrists like shackles. They barely struggled.

"Mom! Mr Petersen! Mr - what's going - where are they taking me? Mom!" I kicked and screamed until my throat was hoarse. After a while, I went numb. Wherever these men were taking me, I was helpless. They were so much bigger, taller, older, scarier, than fifteen-year-old me. A small part of me, deep, deep inside, thought, wherever they're taking me, it has to be better than here.

---

"Happy birthday Lyla!" Zoe yelled, tackling me into a hug in the middle of the kitchen.

"Keep your voice down," I laughed. It was barely seven in the morning.

I loved the way the light streamed in through the kitchen windows here. Making my morning cup of tea was my favourite part of my day. Or at least one of them.

There were a lot of favourite parts now.

"I will not. It's not every day you turn eighteen." She said as she stirred a bowl of pancake batter.

I smiled softly, pouring the milk into my mug. Watching the white-brown patterns swirl, I couldn't help but laugh.

"What?" Zoe smiled.

"I'm just really glad to be here. I didn't think I'd make it to eighteen a few years ago." I surprised myself with my candour so early in the morning.

"Well, I'm very glad to have you here. We all are." Zoe's warmth brightened the entire room. I believed her.

"Morning girls. Happy birthday, Lyla." Cordelia descended the stairs with her usual poise, already dressed and made up. Her smile faded after quick greetings were exchanged.

"I need you to wake the other girls and get dressed. We have visitors coming."

---

A/N: Hey! I've started this fic as I fun exercise to get myself to start writing again. I finally watched season 8 of AHS so now I'm obsessed, and I haven't really written anything substantial in like a year, so I figured I'd use this passion/interest and make something of it!

God, I've missed fanfic writing. (I wrote The 1975 fics on Wattpad when I was like 13/14 and they're pretty tragic but they were so fun...so I'm back!) I just wanted to say that while this is based in America, I'm not super familiar with American schooling systems (and I'm sure there are other things I'll slip up on)...so things might be just slightly out of whack for you guys. I'm Australian, so I'm going to base the ages/grades off our system and assume the system in the US can't be that drastically different (e.g. in grade ten I was fifteen). A lot of this fic won't be based on formal schooling systems anyway but I thought it was worth a mention. Just go with it lmao. Super keen to keep writing! x

Taglist: (tiniest ever, let me know if you want to be added!) 

@angelicmichael @theneverendinghunger​ @outpostmichael​ 

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Precious (One-Shot)

M/F Pairing: Y/N x Choi San (Ateez)

Warnings: language, alcohol use, stripping? (lol is that a warning?)

Genre: Action AU; Spy AU

Word Count: 7K

Summary: Choi San is one of the best investigators in PD Kim Hongjoong’s agency, especially when it comes to the baddest mafia gangs. However, despite the inherent risk of his job, nothing could shock him more than the discovery that his wife might be cheating on him with another man!

A/N: This is actually based on a scene from the movie True Lies. Oh, and go hard San, like damn! 👇

San understood the inherent risk of chasing down mafia gangs who always tried their best to test his patience, especially when it involved saving their own ass. However, it made his job much easier when the ones he targeted would quickly betray their own men without any hesitation. For example, when San first brought the agency’s newest scumbag into the interrogation room, he sat him down underneath the low-hanging lamp with his hands tied behind the chair. And San fully expected to encounter another stubborn punk who insisted that he didn’t know anything about the drug cartel that San was investigating. Of course, that would be utter bullshit, but San was also pleasantly surprised to find a man who was balling his eyes out while begging San to spare his life.

“What if I don’t think you deserve to live?” San asked the man, toying with the knife that he held in his hand.

“Please!” the man cried. “I’ll tell you anything!”

“Yeah? Who do you work for?”

“Kim! From the downtown shipyard,” the man said, spilling his secrets as freely as the tears that were falling down his greasy mug.

“That so?” San asked, circling around the man who whimpered when he could no longer see him.

“I’m being cooperative, sir, just cut me some slack!”

San laughed. “What’s Kim doing these days?”

“I don’t know! He’s messing around with some gang downtown, but they aren’t expecting a new shipment until this weekend.”

“What kind of shipment?”

“Cocaine, marijuana, heroin...the usual shit!”

“Who’s he selling to?”

“It’s just a couple of local dealers. He wants them to buy strictly from his organization.”

“Really?” San asked, humming thoughtfully to himself. “What time?”

“Midnight on the East Dock! There’s a boat coming in with the product!”

San sighed because he was somewhat disappointed that the asshole was so compliant. It meant that he couldn’t play with him using his favorite set of knives. “I guess I’ll let the rest of my men deal with you.”

San immediately started for the door, smirking when he could hear the guy calling out to him: “What do you mean!? I told you everything!”

He closed the door quietly, turning to look at his partner Wooyoung who was waiting expectantly with a cheap cup of coffee in hand. “Well?”

“Check the tape,” San said. “He spilled everything.”

“Hell, yeah, dude,” Wooyoung cheered. “I can finally go home before fucking midnight.”

San’s shoulders dropped as he checked the time. “Damn, that means I’m late.”

“Late?”

“My wife was throwing me some kind of birthday party tonight,” San said, already dreading the idea of facing Y/N’s disappointment when he returned home.

“Hey, I’m sure Y/N will understand,” Wooyoung said. “This happens all the time, right?”

San glared at his friend because that comment certainly wasn’t helpful. “Because I have to stay at work all the time.”

“Dude, seriously? Everything’s fine,” Wooyoung continued. “Let’s go tell Hongjoong the good news and then you can go home and make love to your wife or whatever.”

San rolled his eyes, but quietly acquiesced, and he followed Wooyoung as he led them both into the main control room. He was already waiting for them by the time they arrived, and Kim Hongjoong, despite his smaller stature, was one of the most intimidating men that San had ever met. Not only was he in charge of their private detective agency, but he also regularly tracked down some of the most ruthless gang members with ruthless accuracy, leading investigations with a confidence that defined his character.

Hongjoong also spent most of his time at the agency when he wasn’t participating in field work, and San offered him a generous nod as Wooyoung collapsed into one of the leather chairs. “Well?” Hongjoong asked, looking at San with a stern expression.

“He told me everything,” San said, smirking at a video of Park Seonghwa who had just entered the interrogation room on the screen monitor. He could see their unfortunate suspect pleading with Seonghwa as he attempted to slide the chair into the farthest corner of the room.

“Good,” Hongjoong replied. “He didn’t seem very aggressive.”

“He cried like a little bitch,” Wooyoung said.

“Anyway,” San interrupted. “I’m going home, Hongjoong. My wife is waiting for me.”

“Ah, well give her my best,” Hongjoong said, but San couldn’t help but frown at the comment because it was Hongjoong’s fault that his wife thought he was an insurance agent since they were undercover. Of course, San was also responsible because he wanted to keep his wife safe from the mafia gangs that they dealt with on a regular basis.

In any case, San bowed respectfully, and left the two men behind as Wooyoung launched into another story about his most recent exploit involving a girl from a bar downtown.

The lights were off when San finally entered his house, humming to himself because he wasn’t sure if his wife had gone to sleep. After all, she had made the time for his dinner at 9:00 PM, and San was several hours overdue. He could only hope that she hadn’t put too much effort into preparations, but that sort of wishful thinking was quickly blown away when he walked into the kitchen.

“Hey, baby,” San said, hesitating because he noticed that his wife had her arms crossed over her chest, sitting at the table where the remnants of San’s surprise birthday party were waiting in the form of a delectable cake and several neatly wrapped presents. “I’m sorry.” He sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “It was a long day.”

“That’s what you always say,” Y/N replied, and San knew that he was in trouble.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he said, but the words rang hollow in his own ears because San knew that there would be more nights like this in the future.

“I’m tired, San,” she replied, lowering her gaze to the floor. “We can talk about this later.”

San nodded, and his eyes followed his wife’s form as she trudged up the stairs with an absence of her usual exuberance. He groaned when he sat down at the table in her place, feeling his heart break at the beautiful decorations complimenting the natural elegance of their dining room. He knew that this couldn’t continue, and San needed to do something to convince Y/N that he still cared about her, even if that meant ignoring some of his work-related responsibilities.

Subsequently, the next morning San called the office and asked Wooyoung to handle his morning meetings. His friend protested at first, but San drove a hard bargain when he offered him free lunch for the remainder of the week. Wooyoung was suddenly much more accepting, and San was feeling excited about the suprise that he had planned for his wife. As such, he drove to Y/N’s office to surprise her for an impromptu date to the best restaurant in the city.

As he rode the elevator to the corresponding floor, San checked the time on his watch, smiling when he realized that he would catch Y/N right before she usually left for lunch. He also studied his appearance in the reflecting panels of the elevator, nodding once in reassurance when he stepped out into the hallway, enduring the endless maze of office cubicles to find Y/N’s desk. “Don’t blow this San,” he said to himself before walking in her direction.

He was almost there when he heard one of the assistants mention his wife’s name. “Y/N, your mystery man is on the line!”

San paused, faltering in his steps when he heard Y/N’s voice answer the phone call. “Hello? Mike?”

“Mike?” He whispered to himself, shuffling closer to overhear the remainder of the conversation.

“Today?” Y/N questioned. “Of course, I can meet you for lunch.” San swallowed hard, trying not to jump to conclusions. “I’d love that!” Y/N giggled. “I’ll see you then.”

San quickly darted into one of the empty cubicles, holding his breath when Y/N passed him on the way out of the office. His shoulders instantly deflated, and he could feel a bitter rage churning inside his stomach. “What the hell?” he cursed, reaching for his phone to call Wooyoung because he was nothing short of pissed off and nobody was safe from his wrath.

San watched from a distance as Wooyoung pulled up to the sidewalk, rolling down the window to greet San as he climbed into the passenger’s seat. “Hey, man,” Wooyoung said. “Welcome to the club. The same thing happened to me with wife number two, remember? She was a real piece of work.”

“But this is Y/N,” San argued, still shaken from the phone call. “She wouldn’t do this to me.”

“Hard to argue with the evidence,” Wooyoung said, shrugging like he wasn’t at all concerned. “Look, divorces are common these days. I’ll even let you crash on my couch.”

“It’s not going to happen,” San insisted. “There has to be something else.”

“What did you expect, San?” Wooyoung asked him. “You’re never there anymore.”

The brutal truth hit San like a freight train, and he fumbled with his seat-belt while holding out his cellphone. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not giving up on our marriage,” San said. “I’m fixing this before it gets any worse.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened. “San, I don’t like that look on your face.”

“Relax,” San hissed, holding up the phone to his ear. He was pleased when one of the agency’s interns answered from the other end. “I’m coming back to the agency. I need someone to help me tap some phone lines.” 

“What!” Wooyoung screeched, but San ignored him as he shot off a series of orders to the poor intern who probably had no idea why San was so angry.

“Do it now!” San growled, assaulting the end phone call button before glaring out the windshield.

“San, are you fucking insane?” Wooyoung gasped. “This is a blatant misappropriation of funds! If Hongjoong finds out...”

“He won’t,” San interrupted. “Besides, I’m not doing anything that could hurt the agency.”

“But you’re talking about spying on your wife!”

“It’s not spying.”

“What the hell is your definition of spying, San?”

“Look, I’m just trying to keep this under control,” San retorted. “I would think that my friend might support me.”

“I do support you, San, but this is taking things too far!”

“Just drive back to the agency,” San growled. “I’m tired of arguing.”

San was pleased when several interns greeted him at the main office of their agency’s building. “Mr. Choi, we have the phone wires tapped at the work location and home address that you gave us.”

“Good,” San said, ignoring the way that Wooyoung was trying to get his attention while they entered the recording room.

“San!” Wooyoung pouted, hurrying to match his friend’s pace. “This is insane!”

“Get me some tracking equipment,” San added, throwing the command to the intern who nodded.

“Tracking!” Wooyoung exclaimed. “You’re gonna follow her?”

“Also, make sure that Hongjoong doesn’t find out,” San said, and Wooyoung waved his hands wildly through the air.

“Earth to San! Doesn’t it seem suspicious when you can’t tell Hongjoong about this?”

“He’ll make a big deal out of nothing,” San replied, checking the monitors that were supposed to record his wife’s future phone conversations.

“Nothing? Does this qualify as anything less than treason!”

San turned to look at his frazzled friend, holding his hands behind his back. “I’ve got everything under control, okay? And I need you to bring the van to my house tonight. I can sneak out Y/N’s purse and we can stitch in the GPS.”

Wooyoung sighed. “Anything else, your majesty?”

“Less attitude would be nice,” San told him cheekily, leaving Wooyoung to fume quietly to himself. In the meantime, San had one of the interns help him load some equipment into his car, ignoring the curious looks that he received from the other agents. Because whenever they attempted to inquire about the equipment, San would lie and tell them that he was doing some reconnaissance work from home.

Which wasn’t that far from the truth.

Later that night, San made sure that he was home early, surprising Y/N when he walked inside to offer her a gentle kiss in greeting. “San!” Y/N exclaimed. “You’re home?”

“Is that a problem?” San questioned.

“N-no,” Y/N stuttered. “But I wasn’t expecting you until later.”

“Hmmm...” San grinned. “I’ll be upstairs in the shower. Unless you want to join me?”

Y/N gasped, and her cheeks filled with an adorable blush. “Dinner...”

“It’s alright,” San said. “We can always mess around later.”

Y/N managed a nod which was nothing short of endearing, and San was even more convinced that he needed to keep a closer eye on his wife.

Thereafter, once he finished helping Y/N clean their dishes, they both returned to the bedroom upstairs. San immediately fell across the bed, enjoying the way that his mattress felt against his back after so many long hours at work. He also studied Y/N from the corner of his eye, formulating his next plan of action.

“I thought that we could have lunch tomorrow,” San said, and Y/N paused in front of the mirror.

“Oh,” she said. “I wish I had known sooner, babe, I’ve already made plans with some of my friends.”

“Really?” San asked, keeping a close eye on Y/N when he reached over onto the nightstand to grab her purse. “That sounds like fun.”

“It’s been a while,” she responded, covering her face with a delicate mask that gave San the perfect opportunity to quietly retreat into the bathroom. He immediately found the window above the sink, opening it just enough to toss out Y/N’s purse to an awaiting Wooyoung who was completely drenched from the rain.

“Yeah, thanks,” Wooyoung retorted, and San paused until he was around the corner of the house before returning to the bedroom.

“I’ll be right back,” San said, but Y/N was still distracted by the mess that she had made of her face mask. San chuckled to himself, hustling down the stairs to fling open the front door.

Thankfully, the agency’s van was parked in the driveway, and San waited by the door for Wooyoung who shakily offered him the purse. “You know, there’s still an opportunity for us to give up on this ridiculous plan.”

However, San’s silencing glare spoke louder than words. “What?”

“I mean, the GPS is at the bottom!” Wooyoung replied, flinching when San slammed the door in his face. 

In the meantime, San had re-entered the house with Y/N’s purse tucked under his coat, bringing it upstairs and returning it to its previous place on the nightstand. “Are you tried?” he asked Y/N, laying back down on the bed as he watched her.

“Yeah,” she said. “Do you have to be up early?”

“Not really,” San said, holding his breath as Y/N finally joined him on the bed. He carefully turned over on his side, dragging Y/N closer with one arm wrapped around her delicate waist. “You know,” he hesitated, “I feel really bad about coming home late.”

Y/N stiffened against his embrace. “Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s okay,” San said. “I should work on that. You deserve better.”

Y/N gave no acknowledgment of his comment. Instead, she muttered something about feeling exhausted because of work, and San simply nodded his head in response. “I love you, Y/N.”

However, Y/N didn’t offer anything in return, and San could feel his heart sinking low inside his chest.

When San arrived to work the next morning, he decided to finally address the mounting pile of paperwork on his desk. It was mostly just an excuse to remain in the office because one of the interns, who he had assigned to watch over the phone lines, might come to him with developing information concerning Y/N. Thus, San was certain that he needed to remain on standby since he might receive an update at any moment.

Eventually, the work was starting to become tedious, and he glared at the clock when lunchtime rolled around, wondering if his wife was going on some kind of lunch date with her “mystery” man. But to San, he wasn’t much of a mystery, just some bastard who thought that he could try and seduce his wife. Which, of course, made him San’s rival, and there was nothing that he wanted more than to confront this man and beat the shit out of him.

His violent thoughts made San feel restless inside his office, and he decided to visit the interrogation office where the interns had been stationed. However, during his brief walk down the hallway, he thought about Y/N and her dismissive attitude towards him from the previous evening. Was his wife really no longer interested in him? Would San have enough guts to give her a divorce if she asked for it?

He shivered at the scenario, but the unexpected sight of Wooyoung talking with his interns provided a good distraction. “What’s going on?” San demanded when he walked into the room, and Wooyoung immediately hid something behind his back. 

“San!” Wooyoung exclaimed, refusing to meet his gaze.

“You’re holding something,” San said.

“No...”

San rolled his eyes, cornering Wooyoung against the wall before reaching behind him to snatch away the transcript that his interns had likely created for him. Ignoring Wooyoung’s complaints, San started reading over the words, frowning when he realized that it was a conversation between his wife and Mike. “They’re meeting for lunch,” San said. “I know this restaurant.”

“Oh?”

San turned to address his interns. “Anything else?”

“No, sir,” one of them responded, and San reached behind him for the collar of Wooyoung’s well-pressed shirt.

“You’re coming with me,” San said.

“Where?” Wooyoung asked, and San held up the transcript that his friend immediately objected. “That’s really taking this too far, San!”

“Are you on my side or not?”

Wooyoung hesitated, appearing entirely conflicted, so San made his decision for him. He snatched Wooyoung’s familiar car keys from one of the desks, and Wooyoung only had a brief moment of realization before he was rushing to catch-up to San on the way out the front door. Unfortunately, San was beyond reason, ignoring Wooyoung’s attempts at rational conversation by opening the driver’s side door. “Take us there,” San requested, tossing his keys into the air before making himself comfortable on the opposite side.

Wooyoung was grumbling when he switched on the ignition. “This is really low, San.”

“You’re supposed to be my friend and partner.”

“I am!” Wooyoung said, slowly guiding them out into traffic. “Which is why I’m the most qualified to give you relationship advice, and I think that spying on your wife is a hard pass.”

“Says the same guy who’s already been divorced twice!”

“Yeah, and that means I know when you’re doing something wrong,” Wooyoung said. “And that we're doing right now? Wrong!”

“Just drive,” San insisted, and Wooyoung must’ve realized that his friend was stoically determined to follow through with his plan because he started quietly driving the rest of the way to the restaurant. “Pull in at the front,” San instructed him.

Wooyoung turned off the ignition, sighing as he leaned back in his seat. “There’s Y/N’s car.”

“Turn on the audio,” San said. “You put the microphone in her purse, right?”

“I stitched it myself,” Wooyung confirmed, reaching down to twist the knob on the machine attached to the radio.

There was mostly static until two distinct voices filled the rest of the car. “Hey, I’m so glad to see you,” a male voice said, and San assumed that it belonged to this Mike character.

“Of course,” Y/N responded timidly. “What did you need?”

“It’s important,” Mile said. “I think they’re coming for me tonight.”

“Tonight?” Y/N gasped, and San and Wooyoung exchanged a quick look.

“You’ll be there for me, right?” Mike asked, and San wrinkled his nose at the disgusting tone. “I have something to ask you.”

“Yes?”

“I can’t tell you until it’s safer,” Mike said. “Come home with me, tonight. We can talk in a place where they can’t follow us.”

“Damn, this guy moves fast!” Wooyoung laughed, but he immediately stopped when he noticed San’s fierce expression. “Oh, shit, I mean, that sleazy scumbag! Who does he think he is?”

“Just shut up,” San said, leaning in closer to the radio because Y/N was talking again.

“I have work until 5,” Y/N said.

“I’ll pick you up outside the office,” Mike replied, and there was a sound that reminded San suspiciously of the noise that he associated with Y/N’s delicate kisses.

“I’m beating the shit out of this bastard,” San declared, and Wooyoung shivered at his dangerous tone.

“Are we following them later?”

“Absolutely,” San agreed, reaching over to grab the GPS tracker. “I’m putting an end to this bullshit!”

Wooyoung simply nodded because he knew that San was past the point of talking him back from over the edge.

However, San was usually the type who could control his temper. In fact, he couldn’t remember a time when he had experienced what some might call “blind rage,” but he came pretty close when he watched his wife get in a stranger’s car without any hesitation. Consequently, San was forced to take several deep breaths to clear the red clouding his vision, waiting until he was mostly clear-headed again to open his eyes. Thankfully, Wooyoung was already following Y/N and Mike, maintaining a safe distance so that they wouldn’t suspect anything.

“Keep on that car until they stop,” San instructed his friend, gripping tightly to the dash while they continued to follow Y/N and Mike through the relatively empty streets.

After twenty minutes of tense driving, they finally pulled into a modest apartment complex where Mike pulled in the driveway of one of the units. “He lives there?” Wooyoung asked, driving past their car.

“Turn back around at the end of the road,” San said while pulling out his cellphone. “I’m calling for back-up.”

“Back-up?!” Wooyoung repeated, but it was too late to change San’s mind and he was already ordering most of Hongjoon’s agents off the street to arrive at the complex.

“This is insane!” Wooyoung loudly whispered, stopping his car at the sidewalk near Mike’s apartment just in time to see Y/N walking inside with the other man.

San reached behind him for the gun that he kept on the backseat. “You aren’t shooting him, are you?” Wooyoung asked, but San’s response was nothing but a crooked smirk as he re-loaded the weapon.

Much to Wooyoung’s horror, the other agents were also fast to arrive on the scene, and San greeted Yunho and Mingi who had been dealing with a drug bust downtown. “What do we got?” Mingi asked when he recognized San.

“Some kind of undercover exchange,” San lied. “Clear out the back of the van for me.”

“Do we have any details?”

“Two people,” San explained. “One man and a woman. The dude is complete trash and you can leave him to me, but the woman is innocent, so just try and get her out safely.”

“Yes, sir,” Yunho said, teasing San with the directive. 

“Get your agents ready,” San replied because he wasn’t in any mood to joke around.

Graciously, Yunho and Mingi immediately complied, shouting orders into their walkie-talkies while several agents emerged from around the house, completely dressed from head to tie in their uniforms. Actually, the entire complex was surrounded by Hongjoong’s agents with their sleek black cars, and various cases of equipment and weapons ready for their disposal. “Are you ready?” San asked Wooyoung, covering his face with a mask to disguise his identity.

Wooyoung did the same with a grunt. “I’m sure Y/N will never forget this night.”

San ignored him, checking the safety on his gun, before he stationed himself next to the front door of the apartment. He gave a signal to the agent across from him who nodded once, taking a step back to kick down the door with force, and chaos quickly unraveled as the small apartment was filled with dozens of armed men shouting and aiming their guns in the direction of the two people situated rather scandalously on the couch. 

San recognized Y/N’s screams, eyes widening when he noticed that Mike had somehow made himself rather comfortable in close proximity to his wife. San grabbed the sleazy bastard who was still between his wife’s thighs, jerking him back by the collar of his shirt. “You piece of shit,” San grunted, tossing the man onto the ground to cuff his hands.

“What’s happening!” Mike cried, struggling against San’s grip. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, right, asshole,” San muttered, forcing Mike to stand on his own two feet again before searching for Wooyoung. “Get Y/N.”

Wooyoung nodded, approaching Y/N carefully because her eyes were filled with fear and she was looking around at all the action unfolding. “Let’s go, Ma’am,” Wooyoung said with a wince, trying his best to disguise his regular voice because Y/N might recognize him.

“Who are you?” Y/N demanded, but Wooyoung didn’t try to explain, reaching for her arm.

Y/N shrieked and fought against Wooyoung’s hold, even as Wooyoung maintained his grip. “Oh, come on, Y/N, don’t be like this.”

“You asshole!” Y/N screamed, turning around to knee Wooyoung between the legs and the younger man immediately collapsed to the ground.

“Holy shit,” Wooyoung cried. “That fucking hurt!”

His loud curse attracted San’s attention, and he brought Mike to another agent with strict directions to throw him in the back of the van. Meanwhile, he ran after Y/N who was flailing her arms while tripping in her high heels. “Damn,” San gasped, fighting for air when he finally caught up to Y/N. 

“Who are you people?!” Y/N shrieked, kicking out her legs when San wrapped an arm around her upper torso. He certainly hadn’t expected his wife to fight them so much, especially when she leaned down to bite him. However, he only groaned in complaint and fought against the pain while he managed to drag Y/N back to another agent’s car. 

“Take her to the agency,” San instructed one of the other men. “In the interrogation room.”

“Yes, sir,” the agent said, and San waited until he was driving off before he confronted Wooyoung who was still hunched over on his knees. 

“Come on,” San said, tapping his foot against him.

“You try getting kicked in the dick,” Wooyoung spat, using San’s suspenders to help himself back up. “God, you stupid prick,” Wooyung howled, still feeling the effects of Y/N’s kick while he flipped off Mingi and Yunho who were laughing at his expense.

“Job well done, gentlemen,” Yunho said, flashing San a quick thumbs-up as he settled himself behind the wheel of the van.

“Ignore him,” San told a still seething Wooyoung before they drove off in the direction of Hongjoong’s agency.

The interrogation room was incredibly high-tech with an indestructible Plexiglas wall separating the room itself from the attached studio which was filled with expensive equipment. Wooyoung and San sat together in the studio, watching Y/N as she stormed around the room, screaming and yelling while demanding to be heard. “She’s something else,” Wooyoung remarked.

“Do we still have the voice changing microphone?” San asked.

“Of course,” Wooyoung said, reaching behind him for the appropriate instrument. “Let me get it ready.”

San nodded, thoughtfully considering Y/N who had passionately refused to sit down even after facing stern directions from one of the interns. She had always been passionate, refusing to give in to others, and it was a big part of the reason why San had fallen in love with her in the first place. It was also impossible to describe Y/N’s beauty because, even after such a long and chaotic evening, she still managed to look good in nothing but casual jeans and a simple blouse.

“Good evening, Mrs. Choi,” Wooyoung spoke into the mic, and his voice echoed inside the interrogation room. “We’d like to ask you some questions. It’s in your best interest to cooperate.”

However, Y/N appeared less than compliant, and she furiously slammed her hands against the glass. “Who are you! What do you want from me?”

“Calm down, Mrs. Choi,” Wooyoung said, flinching when San abruptly took the microphone from him.

“We found you with an incredibly dangerous man, Mrs. Choi,” San said. “Can you tell us how the two of you met?”

“Dangerous?” Y/N repeated, looking nothing short of confused. “Mike?”

“How do you know him?”

“We met when I was having lunch alone one day,” Y/N said. “He came up to me with a briefcase and said that he was being followed by some suspicious agents.”

“Why?”

“He works undercover,” Y/N explained. “His work seemed really important.”

“So important that you decided to help him?” San asked.

“Well,” Y/N hesitated. “He said he needed me.”

“Needed you in what way, Mrs. Choi?” Wooyoung took over, much to San’s displeasure.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “What the hell are you insinuating?”

“Is it because your husband isn’t pleasing you anymore, Mrs. Choi?” Wooyoung asked, whining when San grabbed the microphone from him.

“Let me handle this,” San said, before turning his attention back to Y/N. “Why did you keep meeting him, even though you barely knew who he was?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N said, throwing out her hands desperately. “I guess it’s stupid, but I kinda liked that he was involved with something top secret. It seemed really special for me to be a part of it.”

“Special enough for you to cheat on your husband?” San practically spat into the microphone.

“Wait a minute! How do you know that I’m married?”

“We know everything, Mrs. Choi,” San said, quickly trying to make-up for his slip. “Did you sleep with him?”

“I hardly see how that’s any of our business!”

“Answer the question,” San insisted. “Your compliance with us could help your case.”

“My case?”

“Of course,” San said. “You were found with a wanted man. That makes you an accomplice.”

Wooyoung cleared his throat. “Isn’t that a little too much?”

San shook his head, determined to get to the bottom of things. “No, I didn’t,” Y/N finally said. “Satisfied?”

“Were you attracted to him?”

“No!” Y/N cried. “What do these questions have to do with anything?”

“I just have one more thing for you, Mrs. Choi,” San said, taking a deep breath as he braced himself for the answer. “Do you still love your husband?”

Y/N sighed, looking around the steel-gray walls of the room. “Yes,” she said. “I still love him.”

“Terrific!” Wooyoung whispered. “She still loves you! Everything's fine.”

However, San still had one more thing in mind. “You want some adventure in your life, Mrs. Choi,” San said carefully. “That’s good because we might have a solution to our problem concerning your association with Mike. Otherwise, we’ll have to turn you into the authorities.”

“Well!” Y/N exclaimed. “I guess I don’t have a choice.”

Wooyoung covered the microphone, looking at San with suspicious eyes. “What the hell are you planning?”

San smirked at Wooyoung. “If she wants some excitement, then I’m going to give it to her.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes, but remained silent. “Mrs. Choi,” San said. “How do you feel about doing some undercover work for us?”

After ensuring that one of the agency’s interns could safely return Y/N home, Wooyoung and San drove quietly to the edge of town to deal with Mike. They pulled the van off the road next to a large overpass, dragging him out screaming and crying from the back. But despite his attempts to break free, San held him perilously at the edge of an enormous dam. “Please,” Mike cried. “Don’t kill me.”

San rolled his eyes, even though Mike probably couldn’t tell from behind his mask. “Did you really think you could get away with it?”

“What are you talking about?” Mike questioned. “You’ve got the wrong guy!”

“It’s all over,” Wooyoung said. “Your career as a spy is well-documented.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“No, seriously, I’m just a car salesman,” Mike cried. “I’ve never done anything wrong!”

“Why did we find you with that young woman?” San asked. “We overheard you telling her all about your secret as a spy!”

“It’s only because I have to lie to get laid,” Mike said. “I made the whole thing up because I was trying to impress her!”

“A married woman?” San asked.

“I’m sorry,” Mike said, and there were actual tears streaming down his face. “I’m the biggest coward in the world!”

“Get the fuck out of here,” San grunted, jerking Mike’s hands free from his shirt.

“As soon as I’m not looking I know that you’re gonna shoot me!” Mike declared, walking backwards as he looked back and forth between San and Wooyoung.

San pushed him out of the way, reaching for the driver’s side door of the van. Meanwhile, Wooyoung turned around to confront the frazzled man. He reached for his gun, firing off a few rounds into the air while Mile immediately covered his head. “Fuck off, dude.’”

One Week Later

The hotel made for the perfect cover, and an ideal situation to carry out San’s plan for his wife, even if Wooyoung was less than enthusiastic. He was currently helping San arrange the room to his liking, moving one of the chairs into the shadows of the curtains. His partner also handed San a tape recorder, and San smiled at him gratefully. “Look,” Wooyoung said. “I had one of the interns record some shit. Just play the phrases whenever you need to talk to her.”

It was a good way to disguise his voice, and sitting in the corner would help keep his identity protected. “Did you arrange everything with her?” San asked.

“We had an agent call the house earlier with instructions,” Wooyoung said. “We told her that she was meeting a man who’d be expecting an exotic dancer. She’s supposed to tell you that the regular girl is sick.”

“What did you ask her to do?”

“We dropped off an envelope by her office,” Wooyoung explained. “Her job is to plant the bug on the nightstand without you noticing.”

San chuckled. “And who does she think I am exactly?”

“A very wealthy man,” Wooyoung said, reaching for his phone when it started ringing. He answered in quietly, stepping off to the side of the room while San finished arranging a bouquet of roses next to the little side table where he would be sitting for most of the night. Despite the fact that this whole night had been his idea, he was still nervous about how his wife would handle everything, and there was inherent risk of exposing his identity that he was trying to ignore.

“She’s on her way up,” Wooyoung announced.

“Then, you should go,” San said, ushering Wooyoung towards the door, even while his partner flipped off the light switches as he passed them.

“I’ll be in the lobby in case something goes horribly wrong,” Wooyoung said. “Since it might considering how insane this entire plan is!”

“Relax,” San said, giving him a friendly pat on the ass. “I have everything under control.”

Wooyoung still appeared doubtful, but he gave his friend the benefit of the doubt, and San made sure that the door was closed and unlocked before he settled himself on the chair that he placed in the corner of the room. He sat down with a nervous exhale, wondering if he should cross his legs or not, and he held the tape recorder behind him. There was no turning back from the plan, and San anxiously anticipated Y/N’s arrival, finally deciding to leave his legs spread out in front of him.

It was only a few minutes later that he heard the sound of the front door opening, waiting with a pounding heart as Y/N entered the room. San swallowed hard when Y/N approached, wearing one of the sexiest dresses that he had ever seen in his entire life. His eyes trailed down the skin of her exposed legs, moving back up again to pause on the tight fit around her breasts. He cleared his throat and reached behind him for the tape recorder. “What’s your name?” 

San jumped when he noticed that the recording's voice was much deeper than his, and it was also slightly accented.

“Y/N,” she whispered, and her tone certainly didn’t match the intimidating outfit that she wore. “The regular girl was sick, but she thought you would like me.”

“Let me determine that for myself.”

Y/N nodded, reaching behind her for the zipper, but San quickly rewound the tape. “No, do it slowly for me.”

She was hesitant, but San sat up straighter when she turned around to undo the zipper on the back of the dress, allowing it to fall onto the floor. San cleared his throat, taking in the sight of Y/N wearing a black set of lingerie, and the panties barely covered her ass when she made a complete circle to look at San again for directions. “Dance for me,” the recording instructed. “I want to see how sexy you are.”

Y/N paused while San reached out to turn on the radio, adjusting the volume for the heavy bass song that began to play throughout the room. San waited, taking in a deep breath when her hips started to move, and it was awkward at first, until she finally found the beat, dragging her hands over her gorgeous body. San watched as her hands traveled over her breasts, moving them down sensuously to tease the waistband of her underwear.

At this point, San’s heart was practically leaping into his throat, and the music sounded unbelievably loud inside his ears. Y/N was clearly distracted by her own dancing, closing her eyes as she continued to hypnotize San with the tantalizing way that she undulated her hips. San groaned at the display because he was uncomfortably hard in his black trousers, reaching down to adjust himself as he watched Y/N grind herself against the bed post.

She dropped lower to the ground, pushing her ass out in San’s direction, and every bit of blood in his body had moved south to fill his cock. It took everything that he had not to launch himself at his wife who was using the post as support to sway her body from side to side. San closed his eyes, leaning over to turn down the radio so that Y/N could hear the tape recorder again.

“Lie on the bed and close your eyes.”

Y/N stumbled in her heels at the unexpected order, but she still obeyed, gently lowering herself vertically across the hotel’s king-sized bed. In the meantime, San took a flower from the vase next to him, walking over to Y/N to drag the velvety petals against her smooth skin. He was unable to help himself when he joined her on the edge of the bed, leaning down to claim Y/N’s irresistible red-glossed lips.  

He moaned against her mouth, resisting the urge to climb his fingers along her beautiful skin that was practically glowing from the light penetrating through the curtains. It had been a long time since he had kissed his wife so passionately, and he was determined to make her feel good tonight. Of course, distracted by the moment’s pleasures, San failed to realize that Y/N had grabbed the alarm clock from the corner of the nightstand until she was hitting him over the head with the offending object. “Pervert!” she shouted, immediately rising from the bed. San grunted as he collapsed to the floor, feeling the dizzying effects of the hit that he had just taken courtesy of his wife’s powerful aim.

However, he quickly came to realize that Y/N was trying to put on her dress while limping haphazardly for the exit. “Y/N,” San shouted, and his wife paused. “It’s me!” He removed the mask and held up his hands, watching Y/N’s eyes grow wide with shock.

“San?” she gasped, and her entire body was suddenly shaking.

“Yes, it’s me,” San whispered, hoping to calm her down.

“H-How?” she asked, clutching the dress tightly to her chest.

“I’m not an insurance agent,” San said, carefully approaching his wife like she might flee at any moment. “I work for a private detective’s office downtown, but I had to lie because I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“What?” Y/N questioned, pulling at the strands of her hair as if she couldn’t process anything that he was saying. “None of this makes sense!”

“It was me that night with Mike or whoever,” San revealed. “I interrogated you in that room, and I had some of the agents organize this night for us!”

“San, you sound insane right now!” Y/N said.

“I know,” San agreed, trying to reach out for Y/N, but she quickly took another step back. “I’m so sorry for everything, baby. I couldn’t stand the thought of you getting hurt because of the stuff that I did at work, so I made up a cover to protect you!”

“You?” Y/N repeated, and San wasn’t sure if it was a question or just his wife’s attempt to make sense of everything. “Y-you're being honest? This was your idea?”

San nodded. “Look, I have a badge and everything,” he said, reaching into his pocket to extract his wallet, holding it out for Y/N who took it with narrowed eyes. “I’ve been working at the agency for years. That’s I’m always home so late because my cases sometimes are more difficult than others.”

Y/N had taken out his badge, studying it with an expression that he had never seen from his wife before. Finally, she dropped the wallet and badge onto the floor, inhaling once as she addressed him. “I can’t believe you’ve lied to me.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” San said, desperately trying to make amends. “I know it was wrong to keep this from you, but I thought it would help you.”

“Help me?” Y/N spat. “Really, San? Because I love thinking that my husband is an insurance agent who spends all night at his office, but it turns out that he’s secretly keeping another identity from me since he could actually die!”

“I’m hardly ever in danger,” San said, but he realized that Y/N wasn’t quite as accepting. 

“And what’s this dancing thing all about?” she asked. “You literally tricked me into coming here so you could watch me dry hump the bed?”

“That’s not it, Y/N,” San said. “I- I heard what you said in the interrogation room. You said that you wanted to do something special.”

“But not after my husband lied to me!” Y/N said, meeting San across the room to sharply push against his shoulders. “Is our marriage a cover too?”

“Of course not,” San said, shaking his head. “Y/N, I love you more than anything else in the world.”

“If you loved me, then we wouldn’t be in this situation,” Y/N said. “I feel humiliated!”

“I’m sorry,” San tried again. “This is all my fault, and you can hate me for the rest of your life, but I never wanted to hurt you. Because I’ve loved you long before I became an agent, and I just want you to know that I care about your happiness, even if sometimes seems like I’m the world’s biggest asshole.”

Y/N sniffled, studying San for several long moments. “I believe that you love me,” she finally said. “And I still love you too, but we’re gonna talk about this! Do you hear me?”

“Of course,” San agreed.

“Especially about this disaster,” she continued. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Well,” San said, searching for the correct words. “You look really hot...”

“Shit! I’m still fucking mad at you!” Y/N said, but there was also a carnal energy in her eyes that had San hesitating. “I swear to God I’ll make you pay for this!”

“Is that a promise?” San asked, and Y/N didn’t hesitate to throw her weight against him in a furious kiss as they both landed on top of the luxury bed.

[princegabriel]

@lilyistryingherbest requested Chained to a Bed with someone on the Carte Blanche or Damien. Of course, I picked Juno “Listen, when you get tied up as often as I do” Steel. Thank you for the prompt! @badthingshappenbingo 

Snare

by princegabriel/ FaintlyMacabre

Rated: M

Characters: Juno Steel, Peter Nureyev, Jet Sikuliaq, Vespa Ilkay, Rita, Original character

Summary: If, for whatever reason, you were to ask Juno Steel, he would tell you that no, seduction was not his wheelhouse. If he were feeling chatty, he'd probably tell you, without much exaggeration, that back on Mars, a night out had an even chance of ending in a bar fight as in a hookup. He was abrasive, and brash, and naturally unpleasant. 

But under certain circumstances, he can give it a shot. It just may not go as planned.

CW: This one’s kind of a doozy. (Under the cut)

Dubious consent—I'd describe it as uninformed consent on the part of one character, and unenthusiastic consent on the part of the other. Both are deciding to do what they're doing under their own steam, but for sketchy reasons. Also, as part of the plan, Juno drugs the antagonist to knock him out so he'll be out of the way for their heist. I didn't write sexual assault, but Juno experiences a loss of control that he definitely does not want to be experiencing, and panics as a result. The feeling/themes are similar, so if that's a no-go, totally get it, turn back now, take care of yourself! Also, alcohol, references to murder, and canon-typical quippy tone (may be jarring to some readers, given the subject matter).

---

If, for whatever reason, you were to ask me, I’d tell you that no, I’m not exactly a natural seductress. (Also, never ask me that. It’d be weird.) I’m not the type of lady who can charm my way into someone’s bed or even their good graces. I’ve got just enough charisma to be annoying.

Again, don’t ask me. But you know who maybe should have?

Buddy Aurinko.

Maybe if she had, I wouldn’t be lying here, chained to a bed in an unexpectedly swanky hotel room, but really, it wouldn't be fair to put all the blame on Buddy. Let me start at the beginning. My name’s Juno Steel. I was a private eye, who was a cop, who became a thief, and if most of the people I left behind in Hyperion City could see where my life has taken me, they wouldn’t bat an eye. Or if they did, the eye they batted would be mine.

Our crew's on a "relocation" mission to a little satellite hotel orbiting Pluto. The creep who runs this place is kind of a hoarder, and his is the kind of hotel where dreams (and, according to rumor, the occasional interspace traveler) go to die. The job was basically show up, rob a terrible person, get out of dodge. There was just one thing I didn’t like about this plan.

“Remind me why I’m doing this again?” I leaned back against the high top table, holding a drink like a lifeline in one hand and fighting the urge to push away the hair covering my eyepatch with the other.

“It’s because you’re so incredibly charming, love.” I jumped a little. That wasn’t the voice I’d expected to hear.

“Ransom?” I hissed. “Where’s Buddy?”

“Not happy to hear my voice, Juno?” The question was all tease and no hurt. “The captain thought I could use some practice working behind the scenes.”

Well, I knew what that meant. “So, you got bored?”

“When I have you to worry about?” Nureyev quipped. “You’ll forgive me my caution; you do have such a talent for getting into trouble.”

“Which brings me back around to my question.”

“You are playing this role because both Buddy and Ransom are wanted by the Plutonian government, and because the rest of us are unsuited to this kind of undercover work.”

“Big Guy! When did you connect to this line?” I'd nearly choked on my drink when Jet’s voice had rumbled into my head.

“I have been connected this whole time, since I dropped you off.”

“And you didn’t think to say anything?”

“There was nothing to say,” Jet said. “Talking would only have been a distraction.”

“You must admit, you do fit the profile of our mark’s usual type,” Nureyev said. I didn’t have to admit any such thing, but I knew. Osric Salazar, multi-millionaire, hotelier and general misanthropist, liked his partners more rough than refined, more sour than sweet; in the slinky dress that showed off a fair number of my scars and holding a double shot of whiskey that was threatening to vanish into thin air, I fit the type pretty neatly. It was maybe the only thing I’d ever fit into neatly in my life.

“Yeah, yeah, the role was made for me,” I said over the glass. “The part I’m not thrilled about is where I’m the bait.”

“'Bait' is such a strong word, dear,” Nureyev said. “This is really more of a honeypot job.” His voice sounded neutral, but carefully so. To anyone else, I'm sure he would have sounded genuinely calm, but there was something in his diction that made me think he was less assured than he let on.

“Well, either way, I’m pretty much just a piece of meat on a string—”

“The target is approaching on your three o’clock,” Jet cut in. “Do not turn quickly; it appears he is trying to stay in your blind spot.”

I made myself sip at the drink and lean on the table as though I wasn’t about to be ambushed.

“Don’t believe I’ve seen you around here before.” The voice was like honey over coffee grounds, and I probably would have liked it if it hadn’t belonged to the owner of this... fine establishment. The Renegade’s Arms was just far enough from everywhere that people only went there when they had nowhere else to be and just enough of a dive that it wasn’t frequented by anyone rich or flashy enough for people to make a fuss if they vanished.

“There’s a first time for everything,” I said, refusing to turn and look.

“Let’s hope there’s a second one, too.” Salazar walked around the table and into my field of vision, but… a little higher. He was a wall of a person, reminding me of Pilot Pereyra, who’d used their intimidating size and demeanor to cow every would-be opponent into submission for years as mayor. I hoped it would be easier to exploit Salazar’s weakness than it had Pereyra’s; that walk in the desert had been no walk in the park.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I said, and ignored the rise of Salazar’s eyebrows as I knocked the rest of my drink back. “You gonna buy a lady a drink?”

“Oh, sugar, it’s on the house.” I tried not to flinch at the hand that Salazar planted on my back, which steered me the short distance to the bar. “Another?”

“Whiskey, neat,” I said, setting the empty glass down on the bar.

“Make it a double,” Salazar told the bartender. “Top shelf.” The bartender nodded and once again, all the bastard’s attention was on me. Great.

“So, what’s a pretty lady like you doing in a place like mine?” Salazar purred. The sound sent chills down my spine, but definitely not in the way Salazar intended. Well, probably.

“Currently, getting drunk for free,” I said. “So, thanks for that.”

“I’d take it as a personal offense to find out that a gorgeous creature like you would ever have to buy his own drinks.”

“If you wait there, I can give you a whole list of people I know who’ve personally offended you,” I said.

“Gorgeous and funny,” Salazar said, looking me up and down in a way that made me want to wash with sandpaper.

I did the next best thing and downed my drink. “Thirsty, too.” Salazar raised a hand and gestured to the bartender, who got me another. “So this is your place?”

“I haven’t exactly made it a secret,” he said, looming closer.

“I hear people do small talk,” I said, “you know, early in their acquaintance.”

“So you’re sticking around?” Salazar said. He was even closer now, and he smelled aggressively like mint and aftershave. It wasn’t terrible, and everything was going according to plan, but knowing who this person was, I felt kind of queasy about it. In my earpiece, barely audible, Nureyev huffed out a short, sharp breath.

“Not like I got anywhere else to go.” I looked down into my drink while I said it, trying to look like like I wasn't angling for anything more than a bed for the night and someone to help me keep it warm.

“I wish I were sorry to hear that,” he said, practically in my ear. “But really, the way I see it? Whoever you’re running from, their loss is my gain.”

I turned to look at him again and all I saw was teeth. I couldn’t help but recall the first time I’d seen Nureyev, when he was just Rex Glass to me, and the smile that looked like he could rip me apart, easy and natural as breathing. This was different. Salazar’s teeth were big and blunt, like tombstones; it would take him some work to tear into you and he’d enjoy it.

Hopefully he’d take my focus on his mouth as interest rather than self-preservation.

I’d told Buddy I was all right to kiss a mark if the job demanded it, and I was. I’d told her I was all right to do more than that if I knew about the possibility beforehand, though hopefully in this case the neurotoxin-laden lipstick I was wearing would do its job before that became an option. Nureyev and I had talked about it—we were both coming at this with our separate and collective baggage, but honestly, I’d thought it would be a harder conversation to have. We decided that if it was the best plan we had and if whoever was on the job was comfortable, it was all aboveboard.

When Salazar pushed the door to his apartment closed and then pushed me up against it to kiss me, though, I couldn’t think of anything but Nureyev on the other side of my earpiece. If he was still there. I definitely wouldn’t blame him if he’d decided to hand it off to someone else.

Salazar kissed like he was fighting, and I grabbed the collar of his shirt so I’d be ready if it swung in that direction. One of his hands slid up my thigh, taking the hem of the dress with it. I stopped him when he got to my hip.

“Not,” I said against his mouth, “doing this against the door.” At the very least, the farther into his apartment we went, the longer he’d be distracted. And it gave the lipstick a few extra seconds to work. Salazar was a big guy, it might take a bit.

The bed was in the next room. It was big, covered in a rich-looking comforter and sheets that probably had some kind of thread count, with a huge ornate headboard, from which hung a—Jesus Christ. He had a pair of cuffs threaded through it. I was starting to rethink the door.

I didn’t get a real good look at it after that because Salazar spun me around and walked me back until my knees hit the edge of the bed. He climbed over me, biting and sucking at my neck, and I had a moment to just hope this lipstick was as unlikely to re-transfer as Buddy said it was, before I felt his teeth moving up to my ear. The ear with the earpiece. The earpiece I was using to stay in contact with my fellow crewmembers for the purpose of robbing the person who was currently getting real familiar with my earlobe.

“Hey, uh, no,” I said, like a professional, “my earring—”

“Oh,” he said, pulling back, and I tried not to sigh with relief. “Let me get that for you.” And he fucking took it off. The only positive side to the situation was that it really was a gorgeous ear cuff with a hidden wireless transmitter and he didn’t seem to suspect. He put it on the bedside table and picked up where he left off. And I thought, “Maybe it’ll be fine, maybe they won’t need to contact me for a while, maybe they get what they need and I sneak out while he’s unconscious and that’s that, job well—” A siren cut off the “done.”

Salazar sighed, hot on my neck. “I hate to leave you here, gorgeous—”

“Then don’t,” I said.

He shook his head. “Nothing else for it.”

“Uh, hey, but wait,” I said. “If the fire alarm’s going off, shouldn’t I be getting out of here too?”

“It’s not the fire alarm,” he said, getting up and smoothing out his clothes. “It’s the burglar alarm.”

Yeah, I’d been afraid of that. “Okay, well, if there are dangerous burglars around, maybe I don’t want to be a sitting duck.”

“Oh, if that’s what you’re worried about, darlin’, don’t be.” He came back and I thought for a second that it had worked, turned out I was pretty good at distractions after all. He took my hands and kissed me, and yeah, I actually felt kind of smug about my performance right up until the cuffs closed around my wrists.

“What,” I said.

“Didn’t want to bring these into play so soon, but we adapt, don’t we, sugar?” he said, with a fucking wink. “I can’t have you running off before I get back. Don’t worry, I’ll lock you up safe as houses.” I wished a house would fall on him.

He took a handgun out of a drawer, waved at me without looking back, and then he was gone. I heard the click of two locks, and that was the last I saw of Salazar.

So now you’re all caught up.

I wait a few seconds before turning my head in the direction of my removed earpiece and saying, “Hey, he cuffed me to the bed, get me out of here.” I have no way of knowing if anyone is responding, or even if they can hear me at all. All I have is this dress, a pair of stupid strappy heels (what is it with Buddy and putting me in six-inch heels?), and zero arm mobility. Well, not quite zero. I look up at the headboard. It isn’t metal, at least, but it doesn’t look cheap either. It’s either wood or painted to look like it, and if it is paint, it's been expertly applied, which points to good quality. If Nureyev were here, he’d have a lockpick in his sleeve or metal-tipped nails or something useful, but he’s not, so I pull myself up to sit against the headboard and start scraping the chain against the back of it to try to wear through.

“That alarm’s still going,” I say through gritted teeth as I try to saw through the headboard. I hope they can hear me, but even if they can’t, it helps to think they might. “Means Salazar's probably knocked out, definitely hasn’t resolved the situation, so I guess you’re still holding your own. In case you’re done before I get out of these, I’m in Salazar’s quarters, the door past the stairs, in the second room. Two locks on the door.” The cuffs are chafing my wrists, but I just clench my fists and try to go faster. “God I hope you get here soon, this is the least efficient way to get out of this but it’s all I’ve got.” The alarm shuts off and instinctively, I stop moving. It’s too quiet to move.

“Damn it, whoever’s listening, say something!” I hiss. I’m getting uncomfortably close to panic. “Yell, come on, just say something!” I feel trapped in these shoes and this dress and these fucking handcuffs and so I start moving again, pulling the chain forward like I could break clean through the damn headboard. It doesn’t work, just like I know it won’t, but I can’t do anything else. I can’t do anything. I can’t do this. I can’t do this.

In the quiet, I hear the locks click and I freeze again. If it’s Salazar… he might suspect I’m part of this. Is he coming back to kill me? I get my legs over the side of the bed just for solid ground underneath me, the smallest illusion of control. It puts my arms at an even more uncomfortable angle, but they were never going to do me any good here anyway.

I can’t hear footsteps, and I don't know what the hell that means. I feel myself start to spiral again until I see Vespa in the doorway with a duffel bag.

“Oh, thank god.” Should have known—of course the assassin’s not going to make a sound. I’m sure I’d feel weirder about her seeing me like this if I weren’t so relieved.

“Where’s the key?” she says, looking right, left, up, right again, checking for… security cameras, maybe?

“I don’t know!” I say. I feel like my body hasn’t caught up to my brain, which hasn’t caught up to my mouth. Adrenaline is still rushing through me—it couldn’t shut itself off the instant I knew I was saved, but I’ve apparently started to autopilot into our usual dynamic. “He didn’t exactly give me a tour. ‘Hey, just to be on the safe side, here’s the key to the cuffs I just surprised you with, also I’m definitely not going to murder you—’”

“Shut up, Steel,” she mutters. She’s already got the drawer of the little side table open and there’s the key. I guess it’s not something he really has to hide. In a second, my wrists are free. “Come on, Sikuliaq’s got the car running.”

I grab the ear cuff and slide it back into place while we get out of there.

“Mistah Steel oh my god please don’t be dead or hurt, say something please,” Rita’s sobbing into my ear.

“Let's go, Steel," Vespa whispers over her shoulder. I nod and let my eye focus on the green shock of her hair to follow her out as I turn my attention back to Rita before I worry her into an early grave.

“Rita,” I say, “Rita, I’m okay. I’m out. Vespa got me.”

“Boss?” she says, sniffling. “That you?”

“It’s me,” I say. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

“Only I could hear you and I was trying to tell you Mistah Jet and Miss Vespa were on their way and you didn’t answer and you sounded so scared—”

Yeah, I don’t want to think about that right now. “I’m okay. We’re headed back to you.” Vespa's taking us out the fire exit, in the opposite direction of the guest area, and there's Jet, just like she said. We get in the backseat and drive away into the night as the last of my adrenaline gives up the ghost and I let the now-familiar smell of the car ground me.

I'm okay. I'm going home.

[bee-kathony]

Love Like This | Ch. 4 “you’ll be gone from my life” 

- Sam & Cait AU

Ch. 1 “silver in the sunlight” | Ch. 2 “you light up my whole heart” | Ch. 3 “nothing else could matter in our life” 

Scotland 2015

A lot can happen in the space of a year…

A child can be conceived and born nine months later, a couple can get engaged and married, and distance can grow between hearts that were meant to be bonded for life.

The beginning of 2015 for Sam and Caitriona started out well and went along much like the previous year had. The second half of season one was airing in a few months and towards the end of the May they would start filming season two.

As any couple, they went through ups and downs as they tried to navigate their relationship. Being in the spotlight wasn’t a helpful factor either. But they made it work the best they knew how. They decided to try and be as professional as possible when they were attending work events.

However, sometimes it was hard for them. It seemed to be harder for Sam to control himself around Cait when all he wanted to do was tell the world she was his — to claim her.

He especially felt this way on the night of their mid-season premiere in New York.

The purple dress. That damn purple dress.

It would be Sam’s undoing. The way it curved Caitriona’s body in all the right places, with a small slit at the bottom. And the top, Christ, the top barely covered her breasts. The black lace with thin black lines covering her chest left nothing to the imagination. As if Sam needed an excuse to imagine Cait without any clothes on.

Cait had walked out of the bathroom, her hair and makeup done, in only black panties and one of his white shirts. The mid-season premiere was tonight and they needed to leave in twenty minutes.

“Have you seen my shoes, babe?”

Sam blinked several times, his gaze never leaving Cait’s mile long legs. “Um, no I havena seen them.”

“You havena,” Cait mocked him with a snort. Sam’s accent grew thicker the longer he spent in Scotland and even thicker when he was turned on — all control of his tongue was lost.

Laughing, Sam cast his gaze towards the hotel closet, “They’re over there, Balfe.”

She flashed her teeth at him and walked over to the closet, bending at the waist to pick up her shoes.

“Don’t move,” Sam said quickly from his seat in the corner of the room where he had been waiting for her to finish getting ready.

Cait turned her head, looking back at him over her shoulder. Her arse was in the air and with her legs spread just slightly, he could almost see her pink lips that he knew would be wet for him if he touched her there.

“I’m going to get a crick in my back if I stay in this position,” she laughed and Sam felt his stomach twist at the sound. Screw the premiere, all he wanted was time alone with her, time to just be.

With a mischievous look in his eyes, Sam rose from his chair and came to stand directly behind Cait, moving his hands on either side of her waist. Slowly he pushed up the white shirt until her breasts were exposed and he cupped them gently.

“The things I could do to ye, Cait.”

“Jesus,” she shuddered underneath his touch as his rough hands moved over her breasts, and her nipples stood at attention. “We don’t have time,” she started to stand back up, but he kept his hand on her lower back and pressed himself against her. He was hard and it was all because of her. Sam was wearing a light grey suit and if he wasn’t careful he would end up staining it.

Just as Cait let out a deep moan and Sam slid his hand over her arse, a knock came from the door and they both jumped apart, breath ragged.

“Shit,” Sam cursed under his breath and walked quickly to the bathroom, shutting himself in while Cait answered the door.

Quickly pulling her shirt down, Cait looked through the peep hole before answering, letting her stylist come in.

“Hi love,” she smiled.

“Ready to get all dressed up?” Her stylist walked in with the dress bag and set it down on the bed. Inside was a beautiful long sleeved purple dress and the front was a bit see through — not that Cait minded.

Once she was all zipped up, she took a final look in the mirror and her stylist deemed her practically perfect, leaving for the night.

Caitriona slipped one high heel on at a time and then knocked on the bathroom door.

“Is she gone?” Sam said quietly through the door.

Cait tried to jiggle the handle but he had locked himself in. “Yes, she bloody is. Will you come out now?” She couldn’t help but laugh.

Sam opened the door, a bashful grin on his face that changed to a look of complete desire when his eyes trailed down her body.

“Fuck me,” he muttered and immediately picked up her hand and twirled her around. “When we get back after the premiere…” he lowered his gaze to the front of the dress — the see through bit and bit his bottom lip. “That dress isna stayin’ on verra long, Balfe.”

“Oh is it not?” Cait smirked and before Sam’s hands could pull her against him, she picked up her purse from the front table and opened the door. “We better get this night over with as quick as possible then.”

Groaning, Sam followed after her, shoving his hands deep in his pockets as they met the rest of the group downstairs in the lobby. How was he ever supposed to control himself around her tonight when she looked like that?!

++++++

The night had been fun, more than fun actually, but Cait kept thinking about Sam’s promise. The promise to take off her dress when they got back to the hotel and she blushed as she remembered Sam having a hard time walking on the red carpet tonight.

She knew that when she chose this dress to wear tonight, it would drive him wild. And that was exactly what she wanted.

For the past few months, things had been going great, more than great with Sam. Caitriona had been filming on the movie Money Monster and had just wrapped after they did the paleyfest in LA. That night had been another spectacular evening when Cait couldn’t stop giggling like a schoolgirl with a crush.

She had never felt like this with anyone. Giddy. Bubbly. In love.

The way Sam looked at her, or smiled at her when she caught him staring made every cell in her body come alive in a way she had never experienced.

Now they had just said goodbye to the rest of the cast and were on the way back to their room and Sam was looking at her from across the elevator. Even though they were alone, he stood facing her, his eyes watchful. Caitriona could see his jaw tensing as his eyes flicked over her chest yet again.

Cait couldn’t help but let out a small whimper as she looked down and saw his cock straining against his trousers.

They remained silent as they walked down the hall to their room and Sam still didn’t touch her. All she wanted was his hands on her body, everywhere and nowhere all at once. She wanted his tongue on her… in her, covering her with his mouth in all the right spots that made her tick.

With the final latch of the door, Caitriona turned around to face him in the middle of the room.

“Well?”

Sam smirked, clicking his tongue and then his hands were at his tie, undoing it and pulling it free from around his neck.

“Ye tortured me tonight Cait,” he said and he walked behind her, one hand trailing down her arm, taking it in his large hand. “I could barely think straight with ye lookin’ like ye did.” She shivered as his breath tickled the back of her neck.

“I wanted to take ye right there, I didna ken about all those people,” he whispered in her ear and then took her other hand and she felt what must have been his tie around both of her wrists — fuck, he was tying her up.

“I’m goin’ to have ye beggin’, Cait.” Sam moved her hair off of her neck and placed a soft, wet kiss to her skin, making every hair raise on her body.

She nearly squealed when she suddenly felt his hands at her ankles and then she realized he wanted her to take off her shoes. Stepping out of them, she breathed a sigh of relief and flexed her toes instinctively.

“Sam,” Cait tried to reach for him as he came to stand before her, but his tie on her wrists was strong.

“Och, be patient, Caitriona.” He almost purred with joy he was getting out of this, seeing her struggle with being bound. It wasn’t the first time he had tied her up, but she had been thinking about this moment all night — how long could she wait until she burst into flames?

Sam held her gaze as he took a step back from her and slid out of his jacket, followed by his shoes and trousers. Then he folded them neatly on the chair near the tv and came to stand before her in only his boxers and button down.

“Please kiss me,” she whispered as he took a slow step forward and she let out a sigh of relief as his hand settled on her waist.

“I’m no goin’ to kiss ye until the very end,” he said this with his lips just inches away from hers and as she leaned forward, he pulled back with a deep chuckle.

She stood there, barefoot, hands tied behind her back, still wearing that purple dress and Sam couldn’t decide where to start. Her breathing was coming up short from her arousal and Sam watched her chest heave. Moving his hand slowly up her small waist, he cupped her breast.

The weight of it rested in his hand and he squeezed it firmly, feeling how hard her nipple was through the material. The dress gave anyone who was looking a perfect view of the teacup of her breasts and Sam had been staring at them all night long.

Pushing her so that her legs hit the back of the bed, he kept one arm around her waist and held her up against him.

“Yer all mine, Cait,” he smirked before leaning down and pressing his lips against the thin lace of her dress. It felt rough on his skin, but the soft velvet of the thin strips contrasted nicely and he opened his mouth, flicking his tongue against the hard bud through the material.

“Oh God,” Cait let out a shaky breath and Sam looked up to see her staring down at him with a look almost akin to pain. He knew he was driving her crazy with not being able to touch him back.

Sliding his hand along her back, Sam’s fingers found the zipper and he slid it down inch by inch, listening to the metal sound of the teeth coming apart. As he unzipped it, he continued to suck on her breasts through the dress, taking each in turn.

Needing to taste her properly, he pulled back and then felt his cock harden at the sight of her.

“Jesus, Cait.” Sam ran his fingers around the wet spot he had created with his spit on her dress. “It looks like your tits have leaked.”

She laughed then, her shoulders shaking and looked down at herself. He was right, however foolish he sounded. Caitriona felt her stomach tighten at the thought of one day carrying his child and her laughter died on her lips, her eyes once again meeting his.

“Take this damn dress off of me, Sam.”

His hands were at her wrists, tugging quickly at the material and once it was off she went about shrugging her shoulders and arms out of the sleeves. Finally feeling free, her arms wrapped around Sam’s neck and she fell backwards onto the bed, bringing him down with her.

“One day,” Sam kissed her neck, his fingers at the buttons of his shirt, pulling it off. “Yer belly will be filled with my child, Cait.” He straddled her hips, leaning up to tug the dress from around her arse and cursed when he saw she wasn’t wearing any panties.

Giggling, Cait hooked her thumbs into his boxers and pulled on the material and his cock sprang free, pressing against his belly — that one maddening vein making Cait’s legs go numb.

“And I’ll slide my hand over the curve of your stomach while we make love,” Sam threw the clothes off the bed, then took both her ankles in his hands, spreading her open. His eyes looked at her face for a long while, simply mesmerized at her beauty. How he had won her heart he would never understand.

“How many children?” Caitriona laughed as Sam’s hands tickled behind her knees.

His head lowered to kiss each breast, taking the nipple into his mouth. “As many as possible,” he smirked. Caitriona reached in between their bodies, taking his cock into her hand and rubbing her thumb on the head, feeling his pre-cum. Sam groaned, pressing his face into the crook of her neck and his hips held her down on the bed.

“Please be rough, Sam,” Cait moved his length to her entrance, lining it up and pressed it against her clit. “I can take it… I need it.”

“Fuck, Balfe.” Sam kissed her then, not being able to resist her lips that spoke such things to him and he rolled his hips forward. Pushing as deep as he could, once he felt the back of her walls, he pulled almost all the way out before pushing hard into her.

Caitriona held his body to hers, crying out with every thrust and ache in her body. She had never felt anything like this — this overpowering feeling of love that overtook her body when she was with Sam. He came to her so deeply and from the inside out she was his in every way.

Not caring about her red lipstick, she urgently pressed her lips against his, desperate to taste his tongue on hers. Sam’s hand slid up and down her body, digging into her flesh and she arched her back off the bed, keening with every touch.

“Oh God,” she panted, hooking her arm around his neck.

“Caitriona,” Sam said against her lips, his body possessing her and she felt it. The feeling that no matter what happened with them, they would always find their way to each other. As Sam slid in and out of her agonizingly slowly, she felt how perfectly they fit and gave over to the sensations, calling out his name over and over on her lips.

++++++

Time continued to pass by and as each day ended and a new one began, their love grew stronger. So strong that Sam wanted to do something about it. He wanted to show Cait just how much she meant to him — how much he believed in the future of them.

On one of their rare days off, he drove them both out of the city.

“Where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise,” Sam smiled and placed his hand on Cait’s thigh, squeezing gently. He’d been planning this for months and was proud of himself for not spoiling it sooner.

When they arrived at their destination, Cait climbed out of the car, a bit confused as to why they were in an open field.

“Have you brought me here to murder me?” She laughed and looked over at Sam.

“No,” Sam smiled, walking over to her and kissing her. “I’ve brought ye here because this place is the surprise. This land. I bought it.”

“You bought all this land?” Cait asked, smiling as she looked out at the acres of empty land before her. They were standing along a wire fence, enjoying the breeze and the fresh air.

“Aye, I did. One day, I’ll have a house over there,” Sam pointed over to the left where the perfect spot for a house was. “And maybe stables so we can have horses out here,” he added.

“We?” Cait turned her head to look over at Sam.

Scratching his neck, Sam’s ears turned pink, “Well, of course, Cait. I bought this place for us. Did you no’ know that?”

Her cheeks turned red and she buried her face into his chest. “I never thought…”

“You’d have roots anywhere? I ken you’re a bit of a gypsy Cait, but you’re stuck with me.”

She pulled back and looked out at the land again, smiling. “It’s so beautiful, Sam. I can picture it. Our life here one day. When it’s just us and the world doesn’t exist.” Cait then pulled out her phone and took a picture of what would one day be their home — she wanted to remember this moment forever.

“Good idea, Balfe,” Sam grinned and took a nearly identical picture, immediately posting it to Instagram. “We don’t have to build a house now or anything, but the land is ours to do with as we please.”

Wrapping her arms around his waist, Cait leaned against him and took a deep breath. For so long she had moved around from place to place, country to country, never really feeling like she had a proper home. Standing here with Sam, she found it. Her home. In his arms, she was just where she needed to be.

“How about we grab some celebratory macarons on the way back?”

Sam raised his eyebrows, sticking it tongue out between his lips. “Mmm, I like the sound of that. And some celebratory champagne?”

“God yes,” Cait smiled and leaned up to kiss him, her fingers pulling at the hair on the nape of his neck. “Thank you… for this. It’s a lovely surprise.”

“I hope you don’t think it’s too much or too soon?”

She shook her head, “No, it’s just right. It feels right.”

Kissing her again, he lingered for a moment, just breathing in the air, pausing in that moment. Things were never simple for them, but he knew through all the pain and secrets that it was worth it — she was worth it.

As they drove back home, stopping for macarons on the way, neither one of them could have imagined that after that blissful afternoon, heartache was just around the corner.

[razberryyum]

Gintama manga chap 699

~

Dear Gintama gods and Sorachi-sama,

During the last three and a half months where the world was without any new Gintama—which frankly felt like three and a half years—I tried filling every single day with some amount of Gintama so that I wouldn’t miss not having new Gintama as much, but in the end, nothing can beat the excitement and anticipation of looking forward to a new Gintama chapter and nothing can compare to the sense of satisfaction and relief of finally being able to feast my eyes on some new Gintama. I can only imagine this might be what drug addicts feel like when they finally attain their high.  I don’t even want to think about the severe withdrawal I’m undoubtedly going to suffer a couple months from now...or whenever the third issue of Jump Giga comes out in this current run. But I should stop thinking of the potential dreary future and focus on the fact that there is a new chapter of Gintama right now, at last; all is right with the world again.

I was wondering how you would start Gintama’s new life in Jump Giga and one of the scenarios that crossed my mind was that you would probably start chapter 699 with a totally irrelevant parody of some type, probably Star Wars related, just so you could tease and torture us a bit before actually delving back into the meat of the story, so I was quite delighted when you did just that. Except I did get two things wrong about the parody: it’s not Star Wars related and it’s actually quite relevant since it provides a very helpful recap to the events leading up to the gang’s current situation inside the Seibouists’ ship. And while I probably couldn’t appreciate the Dragon Ball Z homage as thoroughly as actual fans of the series did, I did find the parody completely amusing, especially when you had baby UtsuShou riding on top of Gintoki (yes, obviously, I have no idea what that was in reference to, but I’m assuming it’s something integral in DBZ...I just thought it was hilariously adorable).  

There was so much Joui love in this chapter; my overfilled heart was in danger of bursting. What was especially touching was how much they obviously wanted to meet up with their teacher again; it was as if they were little kids again, yearning to reunite with their beloved parent/mentor so that they can tell him everything that has gone on in their lives. I really do hope we get the opportunity for them to have that moment, even if it could only last a page or two. After all they’ve been through, it would just be so beautiful and heartwarming if they could stand before the form of Shouyou-sensei again and just tell him how much he meant to them and how much they miss him. Just imagining such a scenario right now is already filling my eyes with tears. I know it’s on the sappy side, but haven’t they earned this sappiness, if even for just a few minutes? And while I’m at it, I also hope they will get one group hug between the three of them. I mean, even though there were enough hand-holding moments to make my heart melt into a puddle of goo, I still want to be greedy and ask for a real hug between the three Joui boys. I know it might be a little out of character for them...especially for someone like Takasugi who would probably kill Gintoki right after for touching him in such a sentimental way...but I really want to see that so bad even though I will most likely cry so hard that I would probably pass out afterward.  

And while I’m talking about hugs,  Sorachi-sama, please, have mercy, let our Yorozuya actually reunite in the next chapter? They’re SO CLOSE that I’m beginning to feel the lack of a reunion like a physical pain. I know this was already a longer chapter than usual, but it actually flew by so quickly, and I found myself rather disappointed when by the end, we didn’t even get the three of them in the same room at the very least. I know I should be grateful that they’re at least nearby, just like I’m grateful that the Shinsengumi boys (translation: Hijikata) is also getting closer to Gintoki, but the fact that Gin-chan, Shinpachi and Kagura didn’t get to actually see each other still made the distance between them seem way too far.  

A big part of why the chapter felt shorter than its 53 pages is because everyone was rushing to reach their goal: the Joui boys to Baby UtsuShou, everyone else to Gintoki.  I loved the frenetic energy that you maintained through each page, I rarely had a chance to catch my breath as we jumped from one frenetic scenario to another. It felt like we were back in the days of the Liberation Army war, where danger and life-threatening moments were happening around each corner and there is really no chance for a break. But I do hope you give us a break eventually...as much as I love the action-filled moments, I love the quiet moments of Gintama as well, sometimes even more because of the emotions they usually conjure up, so I hope we would be afforded the opportunity to experience such precious moments soon...if not in the next chapter then hopefully the one after that.  

I know it might seem like I’m harping a lot on what I hope to see in the future chapters but that’s because I feel like all the events within this chapter were a sort of set up to what will come next. Of course the revelation that Utsuro had taken over the control of the Tendoshuu old farts was indeed chilling, but I can’t say it was entirely shocking since I think you even hinted at that many, many chapters ago when you showed us a bunch of Utsuros making up the Naraku in the past. At the time I was confused and wondered why there looked to be clones of Utsuro, and eventually figured you probably just meant it as a figurative representation, but I guess with this newest development you might have actually meant it literally. I hope your intent is to eventually have everyone fighting a Utsuro in a collective effort to defeat every part of him completely, because THAT would actually be a supremely cool and amazing.

As for Takasugi’s injury, honestly, I’m not too worried about him. That doesn’t even look to be a mortal wound and I am assuming he still has enough of Oboro in him to at least survive it. At most he’ll probably just end up with an unsightly scar there, but I have confidence he will live through that. He’s been hurt worse.  

Other than that, there were a couple of touching moments amongst Kyuubei, Tsukuyo, Sacchan, and Zenzou where they pretty much declared their affection for Gintoki that I definitely appreciated, but what I found the most touching of all was actually Gin-chan's confession of love almost for Takasugi, when he admitted to him that he found what he finally regained what he had lost in the past and his memories were composed entirely of Takasugi. Not to mention the moment was further punctuated by the joining of their hands. My shipper heart was stirred, even if they are not my coupling of choice.  Even though I don’t believe Takasugi would die in the next chapter, especially since Matako and Henpeita are nowhere to be seen, to play devil’s advocate, if he were to, at least all his emotional loose ends with his two childhood friends would have been neatly tied up and he should have no regrets about anything anymore. Not to mention, at least then hopefully in the afterlife, he would be able to reunite with Bansai.  Again, I don’t wish for his death at all nor do I think it would happen, but I guess what I’m saying is that, I would also be able to understand and more easily accept it.  

Since my understanding of Jump Giga is that it is released in an irregular schedule, I don’t know when you will bless us with the next chapter of Gintama, but as usually, I hope the rumors/intention of it ending in the next two issues will not come true. My hope is that now that you’re not subjected to a weekly deadline grind, you would be able to enjoy life more and become re-inspired so that you will find a way to continue Gintama even though we will only get it like six times a year, or however many volumes of Jump Giga are produced. I don’t know how you can be sufficiently compensated for such a relaxed release schedule or if you could even live off of that since the monetary returns are probably much less than if Gintama were released on a weekly basis, but I can only hope that things work out somehow so that you benefit from having Gintama continue to run in Jump Giga for many more years to come while we also benefit from continuing to have Gintama in our lives. I can only wish for the best and humbly ask that my Gintama prayers continue to be answered. Thank you for everything, Sorachi-sama.

Yours truly,

A silly fangirl with Gintama dreams

(^3^)

[glitterandrocketfuel]

YBC Hot Take: Save Rock and Roll

Here we are, kids--the home stretch. Get a snack, because there's a lot to unpack here, and unlike John Mulaney, I do have time to unpack all that. Torn to pieces and lost in the wilderness, a soul-broken Patrick comes to the end of the line and it’s time to decide the fate of rock and roll.

Save Rock and Roll - Back To The Places That We Never Shoulda Left

The opening scroll (never NOT a callback to Star Wars in any modern media whatsoever) begins with a short summary: Our four heroes, violently torn asunder (pieces of Patrick, torn from himself) and laid to waste. Shades, neither live nor dead, where destruction or salvation awaits. An Empress of discord...hope in dire threat...Can it be saved?

Pete and Patrick, having murdered each other, lie in the dust. Patrick, having severed the final piece of his talent, his Confidence-Conscience, cannot survive (a house divided against itself cannot stand), and the only thing left is what’s in the briefcase.

Sirens scream in the distance, footsteps echo in the muted sounds of the cult's destruction of everything Patrick has worked for, and support he might have gotten or kept for his efforts. The montage includes brief shots show the Vixens beating up the random people who are tied up.

Bad Courtney--the Product of this manufactured, strategized, profit-driven, over-produced, surface-level, metrics-influenced corporate version of music (the "noise" masquerading as the silencing of noise) presides over it all, thinking she's the engineer and not the product itself (this is something Courtney Love has referenced in her own music, especially in context with women and women-fronted bands), looking smugly content with herself as if she's cracked the code for a formula of how to make the audience take what the industry wants to give it.

But wait--the briefcase isn't intended for her--it's intended for something behind and beneath the random destruction and senseless violence. The shadowy masked, hooded, and robed figures who are Out For Real Blood. And in the montage, there's a very brief flash of something lurking within. It's time to dip below the cut and find out if there's anything worth saving...

Part I: Purgatory

Patrick finds himself on the same Hellevator as Joe in "Death Valley" where instead of the light, it looks like Patrick may be headed in the other direction. His guide--as from the "Phoenix" and "The Mighty Fall," the will o'wisp kid (fan) sent to tempt him, distract him, and trigger him, stands now at the controls as Patrick in his monstrous, empty form is faced with his final challenge.

Flashbacks from the previous videos show Patrick's parts being broken, beaten, severed from him, and the role this kid (fan) played in Patrick's descent. Only now, instead of the smug confidence in his role, this kid (fan) is cleaned up and wearing a suit (might we say he at least appears to be a little more mature--older and wiser, would one say?), and the kid (fan) is definitely looking a little more uncertain in his control over Patrick or his fate.

Because now is a moment of truth and a choice. Patrick, soulless and in limbo, is confronted with his losses and his transgressions (against his selves and his bandmates) and their consequences. The fans/supporters in bondage, the kneeling man helpless, and the knife on the pillow, waiting for him to cut down the sacrificial victim. To slay the last shred of hope, to cut himself completely out of that which he once loved, to sever the tie for good.

In the Infamous blog post, Patrick talks about going back to school to learn a trade. It seems a little over-dramatic given he already had experience producing and doing behind-the-scenes work in the industry (along with acting and VO work), he didn't need to chuck it all and go be a plumber, but it would have been a symbolic decision to abandon the industry altogether.

He even goes so far to take up the dagger presented so neatly next to him (is this a dagger I see before me?), ready to do it, aligning with the lyrics. Even though this study isn't devoted to the lyrics, they still do a bit of telling in this segment--"I need more dreams and less 'life'" - Patrick's been dealt a hefty dose of "real life" between industry changes and confronting his own shortcomings both creatively and in a business/performance sense. He's been beat down, kicked around, and abandoned by his infrastructure of support in spite of working so hard and putting so much of himself out there that it's time to throw in the towel and close the book on this phase of his career.

Maybe even this phase of his entire life and go run off and be a plumber instead.

But when you love what you do, that's not always an option or a solution.

On the elevator, where Patrick has to make his choice, he's given a cutting tool--a sharp dagger--and shown a helpless victim with the clear intent that he needs to kill it. The last, tiny spark of him that still wants the music, even after he says in that heartbreaking blog post that he has no desire to ever perform live again (and can we all pause here and thank Elton John that he overcame that?).

Patrick rejects the dagger, rejects the sacrifice, rejects the last dirty thing he'd have to do to kill his music for good. "I cry tears you'll never see, so fuck you, go cry me an ocean."

Because you are what you love, not who loves you.

There's still that helpless, hapless victim, waiting for him to deal the final blow...except even as he flashes to a robed cultist for a nanosecond's worth of video, Patrick rejects the severance of the last thread (Fall Out Boy never did break up) and it's that tenuous, gossamer thread that leads him out of the labyrinth of self-loathing enough to even forgive the kid who got him eviscerated in the first place (the fans who never forgave him for changing after "Take This To Your Grave”). 

Letting that kid (fan) go, and that need to please the industry, the idea of what he should be like as an artist, a musician, a performer, is the choice that leads the elevator up to a place where the haze of disillusionment clears the scales from his eyes and Patrick...ascends.

Part II: The Divine

In this place, Patrick's bandmates--his Selves are waiting for him, alive and whole and made brand new--their scars healed, their bodies cleaned up, and their faces full of joy.

Patrick himself has lost the hook that did nothing but tear himself and other people apart. His hand has returned whole, and his eyes have cleared from their disillusioned, poisoned haze...and they welcome him back with open arms. Call back to "Alone Together" where Patrick is imprisoned in the chapel of the hospital (one foot in your bedroom and one foot out the door) and only has access to one of his critical soul-parts with a poor substitute for his hand and the insidious whispers of the outside world and his own self-doubt. But now and here, this is the Real Deal of Rock 'n' Roll Heaven.

Taking a left turn into Obvious Religious Imagery Territory, everybody gets guitar-pick Communion (Fall Out Boy-branded picks), starting with Pete (Patrick's Confidence, his musical Conscience), taking spiritual nourishment from the essence of the band, and drinking from the golden cup. A case can be made that only Pete and Patrick are shown taking this communion because of their creative partnership, but Joe and Andy are implied to be taking the same.

In a black-mass reflection, the cult members take blood-red communion (of what looks to be cut-up Swedish Fish? On one level, let's laugh, but on another, let's consider that candy may be sweet but there's no nourishment or substance to it, and it engineers sugar-high rises, followed by sugar-crash lows, much like the flash-in-the-pan careers of a lot of manufactured artists. So cheers to you, underpaid assistant who had to chop Swedish fish in the props department--your budget creativity held more visual significance than you thought). Their tarnished cup is filled with their own blood sacrifices.

Back in rock 'n' roll heaven, suitably cleansed and absolved through the Rites, the boys are graced (Patrick reconnects) with the Presence of the Divine.

Here, Patrick questions his faith, his experiences, the great mysteries of Why Things Happen.

Patrick’s actions are mirrored by the masked cult leader below, whose physical state seems to be deteriorating after the blood communion.

As the cult leader prepares to open the briefcase (strip away the container that holds the thing), Our Divine Sir Elton answers Patrick's doubts and formally grants celestial musical instruments to the boys, gifting each of Patrick's other selves the tool/weapon/talisman it needs to be fully realized: Pete's bass is the grounding notes of Patrick's Confidence in his music, Joe's guitar is the melodic sound that defines his Creativity, Andy's drumsticks keep the steady beat that points him in the right direction of his Integrity, and Patrick's own guitar returns to his hands.

In the clean and pure place where all music comes from (the Crucible of Creation), THEY JAM. With the Divine.

In a blinding flash of divine light, Patrick's broken pieces are put back together. He reconnects with the place where nothing else exists but the music--no bullshit, no business, no success or failure, not even an audience--just the pure joy of making music from a place that's honest and true to yourself (and with the people who feel the same way you do about the music you make together). It's important to note here that it's not about going solo or reforming the band, even though his solo time saw Patrick wandering in the wilderness a whole lot. It's about where you go and where you come from when you Make The Thing.

Patrick's solo career came from a place inside him where he put his all into it, but without an acceptance of all the places he came from. Where all the fuel came from him, but without the clean connection to his true love of music, it ended up depleting him instead of letting him be part of something greater. The need to prove himself, to commercially succeed, were outside forces that skewed his experience and created noise to disrupt his signal (not the music itself, but all the stuff around it).

Part III: Back To Earth

The band returns to earth--the cult headquarters, where the destruction is still going on. The adult music lovers (I see these people as music supporters in the industry that are focused on the music rather than the business--critics, journalists, venue talent bookers, etc.) are still bound and hooded (unable to break free or to see/hear anything but the noise and destruction around them).

Facing down the cult members, the band is glowing with divine light, shooting lightning into the darkness of the cult warehouse, taking down the cultists one by one until they blast the sign for the cult itself. The flag reflects the lightning out to the remaining cult members, turning their clothing white (purifying them) and bringing them to their senses.

A brief shot of Courtney, wearing an expression of sadness and remorse as if she remembers what she's lost, illuminated by the first light seen in the warehouse in ages as His Divine Elton-ness delivers his message once again and she finally hears it over the noise. This is why Courtney Love is a whole level of symbology on her own, folks.

But wait--all is not well. Because as Courtney is letting in the light, as the cult members see the light and hear the message, the secret cabal is finally unleashing what's in the briefcase. As Courtney Reborn rises, wearing a (really divinely stylish) white toga and taking up her guitar, the beastly form of Xibalba (the word refers to an underworld or city of demons in Mayan mythology, but here, Xibalba--named so by Pete in one of his tumblr posts--is the thing in the briefcase) rises from the smoke in the cabal's hideout.

The cultists, rapt, look on as the demon spreads its arms, mimicked by Courtney assuming the same position (crucifixion pose). Courtney is unarmed in surrender, while the demon is armed with hooked blades and it is the opposite of surrender--pure aggression--that drives the demon to cut down those closest to it, those who enabled its presence, set it free, unleashed it on the world.

As the cabal scatters once its leader has been beheaded by its own creation, the reformed cultists and the music fans begin to scatter in panic, while the demon looks on curiously and the band notices something amiss. Something that could not enter the divine place with the pieces and remnants of Patrick's spirit. Something that did not, could not, tap into the divine well where all creative art comes from, because it could only destroy.

Once the joyful parts of Patrick were all excised, nothing else remained except what used to be a deep and abiding love, a soul-connection that's been abused and polluted and no longer tempered by the joyfulness in making music. Raw talent directed by nothing more than monumental arrogance. Which has always been the monster Patrick has needed his band to keep in check.

In the chaos, with more and more blood staining their pristine garb, the very disgruntled band members/pieces of Patrick finally confront his own dark side. Because you don't create things in a vacuum. Sooner or later, they go out into the world again, where the forces of greed and celebrity and public opinion can rip a beautiful thing (the enjoyment of music between creator and audience) to shreds and cover it in viscera.

But they stand together, and this time, Patrick's got his parts back in order. His Confidence, his Conscience and connection to music (Pete), shoots the final lightning bolt that banishes the demon and his red hooks of severance.

And Elton John gets covered in far more fake blood than he ever signed on for.

Part IV: Exorcising the Demon

Patrick has stated multiple times that he was so arrogant about music in his youth, hell, their very first fateful meeting was when Patrick fell down a Well, Actually in Borders with Joe. Lucky for all of us, that one turned out okay, but the danger of wielding that arrogance without it being tempered by the deep and abiding love of music carried by his Confidence, the respect that's carried by his Creativity, and the honor carried by his Integrity is what led to the cult in the first place--confusing music with noise and silencing the music, not the noise.

The pressures of success, business, industry, and the changes in it took their toll on the band separated Patrick from the good things about creating music and fed the negatives--his stubbornness, the need to do everything himself, even when collaboration would have made things better and easier, his aggression and his temper gone unchecked that only drove him further away from the thing he loved. It drove wedges in between him and the people closest to him. Ultimately, Patrick had to try and fail in order to find himself again from a more honest place.

They had a short, but blissful, break in playing to the converts and true believers who never left, to remind them of why they do what they do. Patrick has reunited the parts of himself, sans the poison that ate into his connection with the place of creation and found his pure music again.

By leaving his pride and his arrogance and the external influences that warped his experience of making music, Patrick once again found the place where he gets his joyful music from, only this time with more humility and grace.

His brokenhearted experience led him to the realization that after he'd tried other things, branched out, exorcised his arrogance, his pride, and his dissatisfaction, he found what gave him joy in creation again, and that was making music with the band. Only this time, he knows the secret to where it all comes from isn't something that needs to be tightly closed inside a steel briefcase and locked to his wrist as if it's going to be stolen or depleted at any moment.

Because you can't silence the noise or cut through the bullshit to get back to what's important by staying above it or out of the fray. You can't make the music that reaches the people who need it without steeping in the scene and sticking to the gunky floors of the shitty clubs and rolling in the sweat and getting dirty. Now, Fall Out Boy is no stranger to ambiguous endings (lookin' at YOU, "16 Candles"), and covering rock and roll Elton God with blood at the end suggests that the divine spirit  of rock 'n' roll might not be all-powerful or infallible, and that's why musical warriors are needed to keep beating back the forces of evil that will try to stuff it into a box and make it fit a marketable, narrow, easily-digestible, false-fronted, mass-produced thing.

But ultimately, this is about Patrick and his solo career and how he lost his way, found his band, and saved rock and roll, and he did that by making the music he loves to make, with the people he loves to make it with, and to their own standards, rather than to please others or chase an audience.

In a world full of "yes," if it's not right, then you gotta scream, "no."

If you're making something creative to please other people or according to what you think other people want, you lose something. If you're making something just to copy your own former self, you're imitating instead of creating. If you're chasing the past, you're just rehashing the old. If you aren't genuine about the thing you're making, you will always pay a price. if you're not making the thing you love, for the primary reason that you love it, then it will, slowly or quickly, pull your guts out, consume pieces of you, and turn you into a monster useful only as a weapon wielded by something else for whatever its purposes are, rather than yours.

You are what you love, not who loves you.

Going forward, Patrick will make his musical choices using his own moral and musical compass. Whether those choices please others or not. Whether the awards come or not, the music will come from a pure place inside him, woven in with the people whose talents he loves to make that music with. He has nothing more to prove.

[pandawritesmanythings]

The Supply Girl

Darkiplier, Wilford Warfstache and Celine belong to @markiplier

Rest of characters are mine.

Story by yours truly. Sorry if using Mark’s characters upset you, I just want to tell my girl’s story, and honestly I love writing Dark.

The bell on the door rang alerting the clerk of the shop. Her eyes landed on the strange looking man who had just entered her shop. 

"Gimme just a second sweetie." She smiled towards the little girl who had been hoarding her attention. She walked up to the man who was staring at a staff that was neatly placed behind a glass window.

"Can I help you with something?" She asked, fearing the answer. He looked over at her, dismissing her because of her small frame.

 "Allow me to talk to your manager." The girl groaned and turned towards the girl.

"I'll fix your necklace sweetheart. Why don't you come back tomorrow?" 

"You sure you can fix it?"

"Of course! That's my job after all!"

The girl gave her the necklace, which had a broken blue gem on it. Afterwards, the girl skipped happily out of the store, leaving it in a dangerous silence.

The man was still looking at the staff and clenched his hands with impatience.

"Manager." He ordered.

The girl scoffed aloud, which caused the man to whip over to look at the girl.

"I am the manager." Her tone was dangerous, but it caused the man to smile predatory nonetheless.

"Why, I would have never thought someone so fragile could run such a business." His condescending tone made her clench her teeth.

With a purple glitch, she transported to find herself centimetres away from the man.

"Dare to call me fragile again. I will snap every single bone of your body." Her brown eyes glowed with purple colour as a flame appeared on her hand.

The stranger chuckled before extending his hand. "Let me start over." The woman blew out the flame and took his hand. 

"My name is Dark. A pleasure to finally meet the owner of this infamous shop.”

"I assume you already know who I am, so we'll walk straight into business." She walked behind the counter and pressed a button that made the blinders close and the sign on the outside say: Sorry, We Are Closed! Please Come Back Later!

She tied an apron in front of her black dress and stared at the man who called himself Dark with a blank slate. Millions of thoughts of who this man used to be rushing in her mind.

"I am looking for something to make sure I can know the location of someone. I was told you hold many different artefacts. Maybe you have something to help me?" There was a slight glitch to him. As if parts of himself lost control and twitched in red and blue colours. 

"Before I show you anything that I have I need you to know my policies since it's the first time you have set foot on my store and most likely don't remember any of it."

She raised fingers as she mentioned her policies "One. I don't care what you need nor why. Your use of these objects is not my responsibility. Two. I only fix stones or artefacts if the holder is keeping up their side of the contract. Three. All or nothing. If you want the object, you do what I tell you. And four. If the holder breaks their contract they will lose possession of the object and will be persecuted to a degree. All these terms stand on every situation."

The man looked at her slightly impressed at her conditions. "What if I don't want to give the object back to you?"

"I have a location and teleportation system. No matter where you are if I find out you failed on your side of the deal. I'll take my property from you." Her menacing tone barely bothered Dark. He was actually very intrigued and amused by this girl.

"Then, I guess we shall begin."

She led him to the back of the room. It was barely lit, the only sources of lights were the colorful stones that were stocked on different shelves. Dark wondered in his void heart how many worlds and lives had this girl seen. It was a truly impressive collection of things he hadn't seen or even heard of before. Somewhere a pair of wings battled in a cage trying to get out. The girl stroke them a couple times and they seemed to relax briefly, but still fluttered on the reduced space.

Towards the end of the labyrinth that this seemingly endless room was, the girl stopped dead in her tracks making Dark bump into her while he was distracted looking at a pistol that looked oddly familiar.

"These are my location devices." She pointed at a neatly organized and labelled drawer. "Look over them and tell me if you are interested in any." She took a step back and allowed him to look over some of them.

After some moments of silence, he started asking questions.

"Do any of them cause a type of damage?"

"There is always damage to the mass of the transported object or thing, atoms don't like to be messed with. If any of these is used with an unstable hand or mind it could mean the death of whoever, or whatever, they were trying to locate and transport."

"Which one do you believe would cause the least damage?"

She picked out an outer space looking one. "This one. The Searcher's Gun. It has the best aim and will stabilize herself if the holder is too unstable. It has the least probabilities to harm person or object and will most definitely not make them implode."

"Where does it come from?"

She looked at him in surprise. "I don't think that is something you need to know. Just as I don't need to know what you are using this for."

He smiled at her secrecy. "Fair enough."

"So, are you taking this one?"

"Yes, please wrap her up for me."

They walked out of the endless supply closet and she closed the door behind them. He walked to the checkout desk and she wrapped the gun carefully on a purple wrap. 

"Now, for the contract." She began.

"Ah, yes!" Dark was expecting this. He had always heard stories of the mysterious woman who did deals in exchange for fantastical weapons, powerful stones, and artifacts. He wondered what she would ask for. She seemed eccentric in her own way. Maybe one day he would bring Wilford in, surely if the deals weren't that big of a burden he would like a new toy.

The girl slid a folder towards him. "Read."

When Dark opened the folder, he was very unimpressed. The guy on the picture looked awfully normal. Nothing about him really stood out. His social media was written on the paper, also his address and workplace. This actually looked kind of creepy. His eyes met her in confusion, but her gaze was determined.

"Care to explain?"

"This boy. I need you to protect him."

"That's my part? To act as a guardian angel?" He laughed. "I'm not a good person if you haven't noticed my dear."

She didn't flinch nor back down. Her expression remained serious, only her mouth was in a slight pout from not being taken seriously.

"I know. And I don't want you to be a guardian angel. That is just a myth." She pointed to something in the folder that Dark had missed and his eyes refocused on the boy. "I just need you to keep an eye on him. Don't let him do anything stupid. If anything were to happen to him, our deal is over."

Dark nodded, but he still was confused about something. "Is he part of your family?"

She denied. "Then, why?"

"I don't ask you why you need the stuff I give you, so don't ask me why I want what I want. It's not your place to know."

Dark placed the folder under his armpit and grabbed the wrapped gun, his right hand free. The girl extended her hand towards him to close the deal.

"Do we have a deal, Darkiplier?"

"I suppose we do, my dear."

She was getting tired of the nickname. Everyone used it on her.

When Dark was walking out she decided to mess with him. "Give my greetings to Celine and Wilford!"

Dark whipped around, his shell slightly cracking thanks to the names she had suddenly thrown at him. But in a glitch, she had closed the door and locked it. He supposed he wasn't going to be able to get in right now, knowing that she probably had protection gems on this place.

He smiled at the fact that she knew anything about him and he walked down the street back to his car to go to meet with Wilford. This had been an interesting experience. Now he just had to keep his part of the deal up.

Meanwhile, the girl had buried her face on her hands, slightly grieving the loss of his old friend.

"Oh, Damien... You couldn't just stay alive could you?"

Another loss, another mask, that's what she thought. Now Dark was here, and if she had lost her friend for good, she was darn sure she would help whatever was left behind of him accomplish whatever he wanted. But thoughts couldn't help but resurface in her mind. People could get hurt, and Dark didn't seem like the type of person who would back down from a fight and if he was anything like Damien, he was determined. He wouldn't stop until what he had to do was done. And knowing that her friend had suddenly become so void and powerful was scary, in a way, even if she had seen way scarier monsters. But since it was someone who she knew...

"I have to move my store outta here."

She probably wasn't going to come back to this reality. She would fix the little girl's necklace and leave this place. She wasn't willing to see what her friend as going to do and she definitely wasn't ready to see Wilford.

She suddenly had an idea. It went against what she usually did... But in case Dark wreaked havoc... If she could save one life.

The new blue gem she put on the necklace was identical to the one that the little girl had broken. A protection blue gem. Maybe that would save her. Maybe... Just maybe.

A couple days after the town folks looked amazed at the destroyed building that once was the General Supply Store. It seemed like someone had blown it up, but no one could say they heard any explosions. There was only rubble left.

On the distance, the woman looked from a tall building, a purple portal behind her. She stood there for a second and then walked back through it. Her contacts would keep tabs on Dark and Wilford. Both of them still owed her, after all. 

But she wasn't coming back, she definitely wasn't.

[afternoonteawithme]

Levi lay flat on his back in the middle of the living room floor, eyes shut, arms spread out as far from his body as he could manage in an attempt to keep as little skin from touching skin as possible. He wore an old pair of pajama bottoms he’d cut the legs off of, and an ancient, thin tee that he’d washed so often the cotton was barely more than threads.

Even lying motionless on the sheet he’d spread over the carpet, he felt droplets of sweat trickling down his forehead and blending with the dampness at his hairline, left over from his last shower. The ceiling fan above his body didn’t do much more than move the hot, heavy air around, but the moving air felt mildly cooler against his sweat sticky skin, so it was better than nothing.

He’d overheard one of his neighbors say that this year’s summer had hit like a cement truck, which had struck Levi as a pretty accurate description, seeing as he spent most of his day feeling as if the air around him had been poured into place.

Angling his head back, he glanced at the clock over the kitchen doorway, and sighed. It took so much effort to move that he mostly didn’t bother, once the sun was up, and he’d decided to try sleeping through the high heat at the middle of the day, so he could get his chores done at night.  

Which would have worked out really well, if he could actually make himself sleep when he was so unbearably hot and sticky.

There was an air conditioning thing, attached to the house. He’d found the controller on the wall in the laundry closet, and the manual neatly tucked into one of the kitchen drawers. But air conditioning used a lot of electricity, which cost a lot of money, and he refused to become any more of an expense to his uncle.

Besides, his mom had never had to run the air conditioning, when it wasn’t included in the rent. Levi remembered some days when it had been so hot it had felt as if the city around them might melt and she’d brought him to hang out at the library, or public museums, while she went to work. Or if she’d had the day off, and felt well enough, she’d take him into department stores where they’d go from floor to floor admiring and giggling over all the things they’d never in a million years have been able to buy.

Once, she’d taken him to a public pool, but Levi had taken barely a step in before  he’d spotted another  boy standing on the edge, seeing how far he could pee into the water.

They’d never gone back.

But Levi’s mom had taught him that there was always a way to live with the heat, or the cold in the winter. Food, and not being without a roof when they needed one, was always more important.

Of course, he had a roof all to himself now, and no shortage of money for food. His uncle sent  envelopes full of cash every week – though Levi hadn’t even made it through the first wad he’d been handed before his uncle left – but Levi still wasn’t going to waste his uncle’s money on the air conditioning. Even if it was stupidly hot, and humid, and he couldn’t risk going to the library or any museums or department stores on his own, in case someone started wondering where his parentals were.

Levi closed his eyes again, willing the sun to move more quickly across the sky.

All the windows were open – for the first week, after the cement truck of summer had hit, he’d tried to keep them shut, or just slitted enough to keep the air from getting musty, but after the day he’d gotten so hot that he’d realized he was either going to throw up, pass out, or both, he’d thrown them all wide open.

So the windows were wide open, the blinds loosened at the bottom so they made clacking sounds against the sill when there was any wind to blow them. Of which there was none today.  

The fan over his head whooshed steadily, and he could hear the steady snip-snip sounds as his neighbor, the ancient Mrs. Jenks, worked in her garden, as she did every afternoon, rain or shine or scorching sun. In the distance, somewhere, Levi heard a dog barking. A few more dogs in the neighborhood barked lazily in sympathy, but even they didn’t seem too interested in wasting the energy.  

There wasn’t much traffic here, almost any car he heard on the road outside belonged to one of his neighbors. This neighborhood was pretty quiet, a dead end street branching off a curvy, residential road that didn’t go anywhere but to more dead end roads. His row of houses backed onto a small patch of forest, not more than a half mile across before it disappeared into fields and farmland.

It was worlds away from the life he’d lived with his mother. That had been noisy, cramped, crowded. Never lonely. This place was so quiet he’d had trouble sleeping, the first few weeks.  

The snipping sounds stopped, and a second later he heard Mrs. Jenks’ wavery voice, as she called out to her husband.

“Could you bring me out my sunhat, dear?”

“What!”

“My sunhat, dear, could you get it for me? It’s on the kitchen table.” Mrs. Jenks’ voice was patient, as endlessly unruffled as it always was when she spoke to the slightly more ancient, very hard of hearing Mr. Jenks.

“What!”

“My hat, dear. My hat.”

“We haven’t got a cat! Ain’t had one in years!”

“No, dear. My hat. On the kitchen table.”

“What!”

“My hat. For my head.”

“Oh. Your hat!”

“Yes, dear.”

“Where is it?”

“Hi, Mrs Jenks!”

Levi’s eyes popped open, his breath sucking in at the much younger, vibrantly enthusiastic voice. The kid talked so loudly he barely had to raise his voice at all when he greeted Mr. Jenks, too.

Slowly, Levi sat up, wrapping his arms around his knees.

“Eren dear, could you please help Darrick find my sunhat? It’s on the kitchen table.”

“Sure, Mrs. Jenks. There it is, Mr. Jenks!”  

Levi listened to the noises from next door as he stared down at his toes, wrinkling them into the sheet laid over the carpet.

“You’re late back from school, dear.”

“Schools out now, Mrs. Jenks! It’s summer, so I have to go to special classes and tutoring.”  

“Oh I see.” She raised her voice slightly. “You’re keeping him busy, Karla.”

Levi heard a woman laugh, her voice coming from the window on the other side of the living room. “I don’t have anything to do with it, he does that all on his own.”

“Hi, Mom!”

“Hello, darling. Hurry and wash up, dinner’s ready.”

“Ok, bye Mrs Jenks. Bye Mr Jenks!”

Eren heard murmuring as Karla – Eren’s mother – talked to Mrs. Jenks, and the thud of feet over wood, followed by the slam of a screen door as Eren ran into his own house.

The kid never seemed to do anything quietly.

Realizing it suddenly wasn’t as hot as it had been, Levi decided it was time to take another, proper shower, hopefully the last of the day.

---

As hot at it had been, the temperature cooled down rapidly once the sun started to ease down towards the horizon. When Levi stepped out of the bathroom again, he found himself shivering a little, and quickly pulled on a slightly less worn out shirt and actual shorts.

He’d just started towards the kitchen, ready to start on his chores, when he heard the rev of an engine next door.

Curious, in spite of himself, Levi edged forward until he could look out through one of the windows, from beneath the loose blinds. Karla stood, one leg in her car, calling to Eren who still stood on their porch, his left arm encased in the bright blue plaster cast he’d been wearing for the past month.  

“Be good, ok? I just have to stop by and check on the Hinneman’s, with their son out of town. I won’t be more than an hour, so I don’t want to call a sitter.”

“I’ll be fine, Mom. I’m ten years old.”

“Maybe we should ask Armin, or Mikasa to come over.” Karla clearly was not reassured by Eren’s words.

“Mom.” Eren threw so much disgust into his voice that even Levi’s mouth twitched. “I’m ten, remember. Not a baby. Besides, Mikasa’s camping, and Armin and his grandad leave for their fishing trip early tomorrow.”  

“Well, alright. Don’t go in the woods, ok?”

“Mom. I’ll be fine.”

“I know, darling, but-” She glanced at the watch on her wrist, then shook her head. “Alright, I have to go. Stay in the house, and be good.”

“Love you, mom!”

She slid fully into the car, shutting the door and backing out of the driveway. Clearly, she was distracted, because otherwise she’d never have missed Eren’s suspicious lack of agreement not to go into the woods.

Levi definitely didn’t miss it.

He watched Eren raise his cast covered arm, waving at his mom’s car as it turned onto the road heading towards town.

The sound of her engine hadn’t even entirely faded away before he turned and dashed back into his house. Barely a minute later the screen door slammed again – and now Eren was carrying a pair of large glass mason jars tied together with string, and what looked like an almost empty plastic grocery bag. The jars clanked as he jumped down the stairs and ran around the side of his house, out of Levi’s view.

Levi hurried to his own room at the back of the house, reaching the window over his bed just in time to watch a kid with messy brown hair and a cast on his arm slip on the grass at the bottom of his yard, catch himself, and then disappear into the trees.

[lady-of-rohan]

My sincere and honest thoughts regarding The Evil Within 2:

So, I'm finally sitting down and writing out ALL my thoughts on TEW2... at first, I was kind of nervous. After all, I mean so many people are going to love it, right? Well, to put things into perspective, @detective-joseph-oda and I literally returned the game. I've never taken back a game in my life.

It's been a difficult rollercoaster for me. TEW fandom is my everything... so, it's not like I'm leaving, or going to stop being mama or shipping or cosplaying or anything like that. I love this community and I want to contribute and continue to support my kids. I also would never want people to not play a game, or not get enjoyment out of it by voicing my opinions. A lot of people have asked me what I thought ... so here's my honest write-up, as someone who picked up TEW1 on its release date back in 2014 and has been in the fandom ever since.

MAJOR SPOILERS naturally.

Let's start out positive with things we actually liked:

Stefano! He was a super cool character, a total flamboyant psycho, and I adored all of the artsy, musical-inclined deaths with the slow-mo blood. That was really aesthetic, and really gorgeously done. Like, I couldn’t get enough of it.

Obscura is also amazing, though her moaning noises were a bit odd.

Anima (the singing enemy) was nicely done.And probably the scariest thing in the game.

The graphics are beautiful.

Gameplay controls are good.

Music is also nice.

Save kitty and Tatiana are back, which was a brief treat, but awesome ones.

Green gel and syringes are back (eyyy~).

Getting to walk around KCPD in Seb's old office.

The beginning fire sequence with Seb entering the house. GORGEOUSLY and amazingly done... it really built it up and started out strong... but then... well...

General things I sincerely disliked:

Firstly, the OPEN WORLD SEGMENTS. Ugh... this was the worst part of the game. Hands down. It was unnecessary, and not remotely horror at all. It was easy to see where this game drew influence from other games recently, and quite honestly , it didn't work for me. It was wicked distracting and out of place. This does not belong in this genre, making the game feel like it was torn in several different gameplay directions. It couldn't decide whether it wanted to be linear or open world. The tracker was annoying, and straight out of Silent Hill Shattered Memories which is certainly nothing new.

The game also sometimes flipped from third to first person. Very distracting. To be fair, I think a lot of this game mechanic confusion happened due to the following reason:

It's American horror transformation from Japanese horror. I won't lie, I'm a Shinji Mikami fangirl. I find him to be brilliant.  Always have... and I stopped liking Resident Evil as soon as 5 came out, and he left as director. TEW was supposed to be his love story to horror fans. Something he could leave us, as he described in one interview, that didn't suffer from "sequelitis." So you can imagine my true horror when I heard that Johanas was the new director.

The jump from American horror from Japanese is stark, and shattering if you're a big horror gamer like I am. Japanese horror isn't afraid to leave things up in the air or neatly explain everything. They often leave you confused, and often in high anxiety or suspense. They don't give straight answers.  In TEW2, though, nothing is really scary any more. It also relies HEAVILY upon mechanics, plot devices, and gameplay from other games... most notably The Last of Us but also Uncharted, Resident Evil 7, The Division, Outlast, SIlent Hill and SH Shattered Memories, Layers of Fear. Of which TEW was nothing like ANY of these. And yes, I know the new director, Johanas, is the same as the DLCs... but at least the DLCs provided some sincerely terrifying moments.

(side note: I was the most peeved that the ending of both TLOU and TEW2 is literally carrying your daughter or daughter figure in your arms... and that the emotional moments between them take place in a vehicle as they gaze at one another. Influenced much?).

Which brings me to... the main thing a survival-horror game should have. Horror.

This game is not scary. Nor was it difficult in any sense of the word. Unless you count... actually getting through it, which was very painful at times.

We honestly didn't die once during our 12-hour stream. This was absolutely disappointing. And confusing. Why wasn't this game more difficult? Sometimes I still die in the beginning sequence of TEW1. It's still terrifying as the Sadist comes at Seb, he injures his leg, and Seb limps for his life.

Furthermore, the utter sense of isolation, confusion, and abandonment is gone. In TEW1, you literally have no idea what the hell is going on, left in the dark figuratively and at times, literally. That's what makes it scary, aside from the hideous creatures out for blood. With so many Mobius NPCs, you always know a safe house, or a safe room, is well within running distance. It's so easy to use avoidant tactics and not fight much, rather than fighting for your life every few minutes.

Which leads us into...

The NPCs. I'm sorry, everyone was so cardboard and generic. Also boring in my opinion. Their interactions with Seb felt awkward and forced. I didn't give a damn about any of them ( @detective-joseph-oda, liked Sykes, which is fair because he had the most personality out of all of them). Again, the isolation and terror is gone. You have friends... and not just Kidman in your ear telling you what to do. Unlike the first game, where you were absolutely alone 90% of the time, with increased anxiety every time Joseph left your side and you were left to your own devices again.

On that note, this game provides way too much information as you work with Mobius. TEW1 left theories in the online community for months. No one knew what truly went on behind Beacon. It was fascinating to theorize about the character's fates. Mobius was just a terror in the distance, vaguely mentioned and yet their symbols were emblazoned on doors every so often leaving a sense of intrigue and mystery.  What was real and what wasn’t? Not something to worry about any more, as everyone directly explains everything to you, every step of the way. Even the DLCs added more information than answered questions, and the fandom was, well, for lack of a better word, shook.

The DLCs suddenly made Mobius, and Kidman,  Administrator, etc... the main focus. Suddenly, Beacon wasn't so spooky any more because they were tugging the strings. Which brings us to our next point...

The importance is suddenly almost entirely placed upon Kidman as a side character (she's the only other one you play as, after all).  I get it. People love Kidman. She’s a familiar face. This was obviously shifting this way in the DLCs. Not only was this Seb's story arc (unless you count the DLCs) but it felt out of place seeing as you only get to be her a few brief segments.  It seemed to me like the game wanted to neatly tie up BOTH of their character arcs in one game, rather than provide another Kidman DLC to see how things went down on her end again. It felt like a bit much going on.. not to mention Joseph was Seb’s actual partner and his focus in TEW1. More on that later. On that note, The Administrator was such a wasted opportunity. Instead of being a creepy monster influence like he once was inside of STEM, he just sits in his chair like a typical Bond Villain and has agents do his evil bidding. He sits back and "MWAHAHAS" rather than actively playing a part in the events around him.

And now we get into the nitty gritty, and the things I am most passionately outspoken about with this game.

Stefano is HARDLY in it, and the game has far too many antagonists. I was so disappointed to see Stefano ended by chapter 9 because he was the best part of the game. That's only halfway through that he makes it, and he is the character they used on all of their promotional material, and even their art contest. Super disappointing.

New Seb... isn't our Seb. He's down on his luck, sure, but he's almost at peace with it given his other behavior. We only really see that Seb is downtrodden because he's written in a bar at the beginning of the game and he has a beard of sorrow. Everything else leads to Seb seeming pretty high functioning and generally in better spirits. It almost feels like invasion of the body snatchers. His facial features are different (rendered to be more classically handsome, perhaps). He's suddenly more sassy, and infinitely more talkative, making him far from the near-silent protagonist he once was. Instead of playing his cards close to the vest, he wears his heart on the sleeve, often openly emotional. Which, given the contrast between he and Joseph in the first game, is not his usual style. Joseph was the "emotional" of the two. He also hardly swears or even says his token trade-marked 'FUCK.' You can't get through five minutes of the game without him making some kind of snappy, cheesy one-liner or talking to himself. It’s hard to take the game seriously as horror this time around.The obviously new voice actor for him, compared to Anson's experience, is also a rough transition.

Is it because he's after his child, who he thought was dead that he's so different? I dunno... I don't buy it. And speaking of, Lily's crying was some of the worst voice acting I've heard in a game in a very long time. I won't say much on her, other than I was severely disappointed by the overly-happy ending, neatly tied up in a package with a bow. TEW isn't The Last of Us. It was never a "father saves his daughter" game. It was horror. Lily and Myra were there for backstory only.This seemed like a money-making gimmick to me, given the popularity of such series that have gone the familial route, rather than sticking to their original genres (Uncharted for example). Family sells. Saving your family sells. Although I'm happy for Seb, I truly am... it's absolutely jarring to see the end of this game compared to the first.It’s almost alien.

The characterization, and dialogue writing... overall was bad. Especially between Seb and Myra (O'Neal, too).

Myra... well, again, I won't say much. I was very disappointed that she had a redemption arc, and that she wasn't out against Sebastian from the start as the DLCs perhaps hinted at. She was a good wife. A good person. Very clean for a horror game. It was an easy out. And her design was a direct rip off Ruvik and honestly really reaching. Shoutout to the fact that she looks like literal cum.

Finally, and here we go... the original story arc was about Ruvik. His pain, his motivations, his invention of STEM to bring Laura back. As far as we know, he's still out there inhabiting Leslie as a vessel. This... was just dropped in favor of a retconned Seb saves Lily story. Ruvik was so much more interesting. They could have at least given him a little bit of screen time. I really feel like they dropped the actual horror ball, shifting the focus from the mind of a madman, as the original game called it.. to a very Umbrella-esque organization. Seeing Seb face Leslie/Ruvik in the real world was a HUGE missed opportunity.

And last but certainly not least.. the fandom's beloved Joseph Oda. Going back to Kidman who was the Junior Detective, and not Sebastian's actual partner of 9 years like Joseph was, it just hurts to see him discarded. Yes, we got our confirmation that he's alive which is something the fandom has theorized for years. Johanas himself had left Joseph with a heartbeat in the DLCs, hinting at his state of life. But you also have to work for it. HARD. To even see this happy information flashed on your projection screen, you need every single photo slide and side quest finished. It isn't even remotely satisfying, and again, it's another tease. Kidman gives you an excuse and dodges questions about his whereabouts, or how he is, or if he's just a brain in a jar...

The ending hints that someone is now running STEM again as the Core. Is it Joseph? Who knows... DLC perhaps? If so I'm not sure I'm interested. Joseph may not be who he once was if he gets the same treatment of the other characters.

Going back to Seb's characterization, (I think @debussyj will agree with me on this) his partner for most of his detective career has been supposedly "dead" in his eyes for three years.  He was willing to believe Lily was alive again, but why not Joseph? The care that they showed for each other in the first game was so apparent. All shipping aside. They cared for each other so much and yes, Lily is his blood, but Joseph was part of his life far longer. And now Joseph is just a footnote in Seb's life, because he got his daughter back. Blood is thicker than water I guess, but boy Seb, that's no way to treat the man who helped you through your personal tragedy, as the DLCs went out of their way to mention, and the partner you came to work beside, admire and respect. This more than anything felt the most disappointing and OOC for me. It felt downright disrespectful, especially since Ruvik pointedly mocks Sebastian by using Joseph in the first game ("poor little Joseph") and Seb's motivations throughout the first game are first and foremost, helping his partner get through it, too. It's like the two almost never existed as partners.

The TLDR version; this game is not an actual horror game, is a far cry from its original genre, theme, and atmosphere... it uses a heavy reliance upon other popular games, the writing isn't good or consistent, the characters feel entirely different, and no, Joseph is not in it.

[kohakuhime]

The Reluctant Guardian, ch. 12

Hey look! The last update of the year and for this particular act, and then we’re into Act 2! You can expect the next update by January 7th, haha~!

Disclaimer: this takes place post canon, and this refers to events that take place in an alternate verse. Michael, Isabel, Mikomi, and Kazuo belong to @mpuzzlegirl, though they don’t appear in this chapter; Edmund Belmont, Brock Turner, and the secretary belong to me; and YGO and its associated characters belong to Kazuki Takahashi.

He was playing a very dangerous game.

He was confident of the hand he had been dealt and of all the pieces and pawns he had in motion. He was secure, had been secure for months as he had started this project. All loose ends were tied up, gone, or controlled and monitored. He had felt prepared.

And yet, with the presence of a ten thousand year old king behind him, he felt the slightest shiver run up his spine. Most men with healthy senses of self-preservation might call it fear—he called it “anticipation”. All of the preparations he had made were about to start paying off. He was about to start the real game by going toe to toe with Dartz. He would be lying if he said he was not excited by the very idea.

“Are you going to dignify me with a response, or would you like me to bother you some other time?” Dartz’s voice was smooth and calm, carrying no edge. Even so, there was a warning hidden in that voice.

This was not some rich egotistical braggart who was posturing, this was not some hired hand or some mindless grunt. This was someone dangerous, someone with real power and real strength—and this was the opponent he had been waiting for.

It was time to see how he fared in this first round of the game.

He turned in his chair to fully face the other man, a smile spreading across his face. “I appreciate you cutting straight to the heart of the matter, Dartz. I never appreciated a man who made small talk.”

                                    +++++++++++++++++++

Dartz did not immediately reply, studying the man before him. The man in the leather office chair appeared to be somewhere in his thirties, if not forties. His short dark hair and beard were well kept, without a hair out of place, and it was stark contrast against his pale skin. His green eyes glittered in the light from his desk.

The man leaned back in his seat, folding his fingers. “I do not believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you. I am—“

“—Edmund Belmont, son of the late Peter Belmont and current CEO of Belmont Industries,” Dartz said coolly. “I know of you.”

Belmont did not seem upset at being found out so easily. On the contrary, his smile grew wider and his eyes shone. “That’s an honor,” he said, something of warmth in his voice. “You were always so reclusive and did not let just anyone meet you, let alone see you. I wouldn’t have even known you existed if it had not been for a dinner party you appeared at just once. The fact you know my name speaks volumes.”

“Hardly. It just means I’m not that far removed from current events,” Dartz said. “Now, you are wasting my time.”

“Ah, yes yes, you want to get on with our discussion. You know, I should reschedule this appointment altogether. You’re not even here in person, just projecting from whatever little hideaway you’re in. Still, my father raised me to have manners.” Belmont reached for the intercom and pushed a button. “Would you be a dear and bring me a cup of coffee?”

“Yes, sir.”

Belmont offered a small shrug when Dartz rose an eyebrow. “It is rather late for our meeting and it’s been a long day. Coffee would not be amiss at this point. You don’t mind, do you?”

He did, actually. Projecting from a distance took a considerable deal of effort and magic, and he was on a time limit. Perhaps that was something Belmont knew as well, and if nothing else this was a tactic designed to rattle him or disarm him—it was one Dartz utilized more often than not.

So he stayed silent.

“While I’m waiting, I do wish to ask: the children. Are they all right? They had a rather trying day.” Belmont’s voice was as insincere as the smile he wore.

“They are fine.” No thanks to you. “Any particular reason you wanted their presence?”

Belmont’s smile spread. “I can’t give everything away now, can I?”

“I am surprised that Seto Kaiba has not caught onto you yet,” he remarked idly. “It is exceedingly difficult to pull one over on him, especially here in Domino.”

Belmont waved a hand dismissively. “I’ve gotten by harder challenges in life. Though, ah, Dartz—I would so greatly appreciate it if he does not find out. I would hate for any more children to be made orphans, and trust me when I tell you I would know if he was told.”

It was not a threat, but a statement of fact. Dartz did not outwardly react, but already he started figuring out how he could keep unnecessary parties out of the way. He could not protect everyone, no matter how hard he tried. He was stretched too thin as it was — but he would figure that out later, when he had a chance to think.

Dartz heard the sound of the door opening, followed by the clicking of heels on the tile—

—and then he felt the surge of magic as it entered the room.

Dartz did not immediately flinch, but there was something sharper in his gaze as he watched the woman silently pass him. Even though he was not there in person, the taint created by the Orichalcos was all too palpable through the connection.

“Coffee, sir,” she murmured as she placed a tray on the table. Dartz’s eyes narrowed.

“Thank you, dear,” Belmont said, his tone light. “Why don’t you stay here a moment, hm? We have a guest.”

The woman turned to face Dartz, standing behind Belmont with her hands folded neatly in front of her. Her hair was pulled back off her face and into a simple bun, and like her employer not even one hair was out of place.  Beneath the makeup she was ghostly pale, and in spite of himself Dartz felt something within him twist as her deadened, nearly black eyes met his. He had seen such eyes very rarely, but one of the few times he had was with his beloved queen in the aftermath of her death.

At her throat gleamed an all too familiar stone.

“My secretary,” Belmont said casually. “I can assure you, she will not be a distraction.”

Dartz returned his attention to Belmont. “You have your cup of coffee now.”

“Ah, yes.” Belmont took a sip, stirring in a small spoonful of sugar. “Now we can discuss business. Dartz, do you need to have a seat? It can’t be comfortable standing, even if you’re a magical variant of a hologram.”

Dartz ignored the jab. “I’ll manage.”

“Very well.” Belmont took another sip and then set his mug down. “It’s funny, I’ve imagined this first meeting and felt ready to speak my piece, but oddly enough I can’t seem to come up with the words to start this conversation.”

Dartz did not say anything.

Belmont shrugged and then rose smoothly to his feet. “You know my name, but what do you know of my company?”

“Your father ran it until ten years ago, when dementia set in. He passed away and you took his place as stated in his will, and you turned it from a company primarily focused on oil into a company focused more on technology. In the aftermath of your father’s gradual decline and death, the change saved the company,” Dartz said. “You yourself have a variety of interests, from trophy hunting to collecting fine art, and your interests were a far cry different from your father’s. I’m guessing your pursuits in the arcane is rather recent.”

Belmont clapped his hands, looking delighted. “Very good!  I expected nothing less from the former king of Atlantis!”

Dartz’s frown deepened. For someone he had hardly heard of, this man knew far more about him than Dartz was comfortable with. He would have to determine just where Belmont had gotten so much of his information.

Belmont paused, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Well, good sir, I can see you have questions. Perhaps you’re wondering how I know so much of you, let alone of your Orichalcos.”

Dartz continued to remain silent, but there was something expectant in his expression.

“It started around the incident involving the so-called malfunction with Kaiba Corporation’s Solid Vision technology. I recognized the potential of magic combined with technology, saw its full potential even if my father dismissed it as mindless ramblings. However, I didn’t have much to go on—I knew you were involved, since Paradius had bought out first Industrial Illusions and then Kaiba Corporation.”

“I had believed those to be covert take-overs. I certainly never publicized them,” Dartz said mildly.

“Nothing is covert if you know what you are looking for, dear man. You’re a king, certainly, but I am a businessman and one of the best,” Belmont replied with an airy voice. “Once I had a lead to go on, it was all too easy to figure out who was pulling the strings. Besides,” he added, “during that week where you became the most active, there was a raid where Kaiba Corporation employees tried to transmit certain information to their employer.”

Dartz sucked in a breath. “It was not my men who stopped them, was it?” he asked, his voice light.

“Oh no, yours did! In fact, mine were simply following yours when Seto Kaiba made his move. In all the chaos of that particular night, you never checked to see how much information was accessed—and you never did check on those men who retrieved it.”

So then. That was how Belmont had so much on Dartz’s business dealings and enough knowledge to infer to Atlantis. Now it came down to just how much he knew of the Orichalcos, and of its history. “I find it surprising that you waited so long to enact your plans,” he said aloud.

Belmont sighed, offering a small shrug. “A large part of it was due to not even having access to your Orichalcum reserves. I did not have an idea of where you stored any of your stones when I first began this particular journey.”

“Clearly something changed in that regard,” said Dartz, and he looked pointedly at the secretary as he spoke.

“Ah, I wish I could tell you that part of my story, but alas—we’re not partners yet, and I don’t want to give away everything. Which leads me to the next topic of our discussion, my dear Dartz.”

Belmont fixed him with an even gaze. “How much would you say you know of my intentions?”

“Some would say you plan to utilize the Orichalcos in your technology, elevating it above Kaiba Corporation’s and beating out the other competition. Others would suggest something grander, though I do not intend to give you any ideas with my own thoughts. Me? Knowing you, even as little as I know of you personally, I think this is because you have conquered everything else and you do this out of boredom.”

Belmont’s smile flickered. He recovered in a moment’s pause, raising an eyebrow. “I wonder if you had the same problem, given how long you’ve lived. Yes, Dartz—I’m bored. More so than I care to admit.”

He began to pace. “I have been trophy hunting for years. I’ve bested hunting on land, air, and sea. My art collection, car collections, and my other hobbies have been completed. Corporate wise, I’ve crushed all those who I can—there’s no beating out Kaiba Corporation’s empire. Not yet, at least,” he remarked, his eyes moving to his right hand. Dartz caught sight of a particularly large stone on the man’s ring finger, a familiar hexagram engraved into its surface. “And, as a bonus, I get to be immortal like you. Even after all the powerhouses die off and their family trees grow short, I and my company get to live on.”

“So ruining lives and playing with an ancient power beyond your understanding is merely another hobby to you?” Dartz could not quite keep the disdain from his voice.

“Think of me what you will, Dartz,” Belmont replied, and there was an undercurrent of something dangerous in his voice. “You certainly have no room to criticize me over using the Orichalcos. But I assure you, I’m not going into this blind. I know what I am doing.”

“Do you, now?” Dartz’s voice held ice.

This time Belmont’s smile completely disappeared. “If you have something to say, Dartz, by all means. The floor is yours.”

“How much power does it have left? How are you using it, and over what platform?” Dartz asked immediately. He did not allow Belmont to continue, pushing his questions relentlessly. “How are you containing the souls it gathers? What do you even intend to do with the souls you’ve gathered, since there is no Great Beast to revive? How are you treating those who the Orichalcos rejects, or those it corrupts?

“And what of those you do take from? What of her soul?” he said, his arm sweeping towards the silent secretary. “I would be willing to bet that you cannot even tell me where it went when the Orichalcos claimed it, nor why she is still standing and still conscious in the loosest sense of the term.”

There was a long silence. Neither man spoke, nor did the woman move from her spot behind the desk.

“You cannot answer any of my questions, because you do not know the answers,” Dartz said softly, his voice menacing. “You are attempting to build on what I started without the experience involved. You are doing this for sport,” he added, his voice rich with disgust.

“So what if I’m doing this for sport, or if some woman loses her soul?” Belmont said coldly. “I don’t know her personally, she has no family in the city, and if anything it’s keeping her complacent. I fail to see the issue about one secretary’s soul, if in the grand scheme of things it brings me closer to keeping my interests piqued. When you’re about to release a product there are always setbacks or failed prototypes. It’s no difference here.”

Dartz’s eyes slitted. “A human soul is not something trivial, replaceable, nor  some product that you can play with and warp before trashing it. There is only one soul each human receives, and there are unimaginable consequences to mishandling soul magic.”

“Oh yes, living ten thousand years with magic at my disposal to settle all troubles is such a terrible consequence. Oh no.” Belmont was amused, his voice rich with sarcasm. “If I wanted a lecture, Dartz, I would revive my father.”

“No magic is without price,” Dartz said icily. “It is a fundamental rule of magic, one that you clearly do not understand. I had to pay that price, Belmont, and you will too.”

Belmont waved a hand dismissively but did not say anything further.

“You say you have control of the situation, but I fail to see it,” Dartz said quietly. “You are meddling with something beyond control. It is weaker than it once was, but by no means is it less dangerous. It is sentient, manipulative, and has its own agenda. To me, you are nothing more than a child waving a gun, and it will only come back to destroy everything you have built.”

“Then teach me, Dartz!” Belmont said, his voice sharp. “If you know so much, then teach me! Help me utilize it to its full potential! Stand with me, so we can use it together! Think of what we could accomplish! A hobby always has the potential to turn into something life-changing!”

Dartz did not bat an eye. “No. It should never have been brought back, especially for such an idiotic reason. The time for Orichalcos has passed and it needs to be destroyed. I will not help you, but I will take it from you so that I can dispose of it.”

Belmont’s eyes narrowed for the first time. “Very well then, Dartz. If that’s how you wish to proceed from here, so be it. I will warn you, however, that any time I see you I shall gauge you a threat. Set foot on any of my properties and my men will, ah, eliminate the threat.”

Dartz turned away. “Duly noted. We are done, unless you have any other outstanding comments left. The next time we meet, I will not be nearly so calm and lenient. I will stop you, no matter what I have to do to achieve that goal.”

He had nearly allowed the connection to break when Belmont spoke. “It was a shame about your Swordsmen, Dartz. I had hoped they would offer more of a fight.”

Dartz stilled.

“You hand-trained them, didn’t you? It was why I was interested in them, since they were so close to you. Yet they were taken so easily, and my endeavors proved mostly to be useless. Which does bring up an interesting point: if you could not prevent the fates of your Swordsmen, what makes you think you can stop me?”

The room darkened and a distinct chill settled in the air. The lights flickered wildly, the corners of the papers beginning to turn. The woman’s Orichalcum pendant began to crackle, as did Belmont’s; her eyes lit for the briefest of moments.

“Choose your next words…very carefully.” Dartz’s eyes were golden flints.

Belmont laughed, eyes glittering with malice. “Oh don’t tell me you grew to care for them? I’ve read their files, Dartz, I know what you—“

“You…KNOW…NOTHING.”

His seething voice was a thunderclap, one that caused even the woman to flinch. Shadows pooled around his body, shrouding him until there was nothing but darkness and green crackling lightning. Dartz’s eyes shone with eerie, green light. The windows and computer monitor cracked, and papers flew wildly through the room.

“THEY SHOULD HAVE NEVER BEEN INVOLVED IN THIS AND YOU SHOULD NOT BRAG ABOUT YOUR HAND IN THEIR DEATHS SO READILY TO ME. YOU TOUCHED WHAT WAS UNDER MY PROTECTION AND YOU WILL PAY FOR IT DEARLY.”

There was a blinding flash, an ear-splitting shriek as all the electronics in the room burst and popped and the lightbulbs shattered. The window panes all cracked, coming dangerously to breaking. Then, all was still.

Belmont did not have to wait for his vision to clear to know Dartz had gone in that outburst. In fact, he was already beginning to laugh even as Turner came back into the room with a panic-stricken expression and his gun drawn.

To think that Dartz could have that much power, even channeling magic through a projection and from such a far distance! And that was without using the Orichalcos for almost twenty years! The potential was so great for his own growth in power, he could hardly stand it.

And best of all, Dartz did not seem to know anything of what Belmont was truly up to. Let that old fool think what he would! In his eyes, Belmont had won this round.

“Oh this will be fun,” he murmured, a smile stretching across his features.

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[olivereliott]

Review: Harley-Davidson’s electric LiveWire

Right now, it’s hard to judge Harley-Davidson’s tactics without framing them against the stiff challenges the company is facing. If it’s not tariff wars, it’s the reality of an aging demographic. And then there’s same struggle every other manufacturer has in the USA: reaching new riders.

But in the midst of this, the Motor Company has just delivered on one of its biggest and boldest promises: launching an electric motorcycle. And the LiveWire means that Harley-Davidson is the first major OEM to release a battery-powered sports bike.

The LiveWire is unlike anything else on the market. On one hand, it’s an electric vehicle from a company that built its heritage on petrol-powered V-twins. On the other, it’s a focused and fast naked from a company that normally builds cruisers.

It seems like an eccentric move, but it’s calculated. Harley say they want to ‘build riders’ rather than ‘build motorcycles’—and the company execs see electric motorcycles as an avenue to reach new customers. And let’s not forget the rumors of some countries planning to ban petrol-powered vehicles. Any company not looking into electric power is going to be caught napping.

Harley is not betting the whole farm on the LiveWire though. It’s a halo product: the top end of a entire range of electric vehicles to be released over the next few years. (We’ve already caught a glimpse of some of the smaller concepts they’re toying with.)

So is the first Harley-Davidson electric motorcycle a hit or a miss? I traveled to the famously weird city of Portland, Oregon to find out.

Available in orange, yellow or black, the LiveWire is a striking machine in the flesh, and visually unlike anything else from the Bar and Shield. Other than a few subtle hints of the XR750 in the tank and tail lines, there’s really not much in the styling that ties it to the Street Glides that sell by the truckload in Middle America.

From the wraparound aluminum frame, to the mono-shock swing arm and aggressive stance, it’s the sort of sporty standard that many people have been waiting a really long time for Harley-Davidson to build.

Even though there’s no chunky V-twin here, the LiveWire’s designers still wanted to make the motor a focal point of the design. They’ve named it ‘Revolution,’ and finished it in silver to distinguish it from the rest of the components.

It makes 105 horsepower, and 116 Nm of torque, everywhere in the rev range. H-D claims it does the sprint to 60 mph in three seconds, 60-80 mph in 1.9 seconds, and has a top speed of 110 mph. The primary drive uses a spiral bevel gear, with a belt sending power to the back wheel.

Juice comes from a 15.5 kWh Lithium-ion battery with a five year unlimited mileage warranty. Range is quoted at 146 miles (235 km) in the city, or 95 miles (152 km) of combined stop-and-go and highway riding.

Hiding under the LiveWire’s faux gas cap are two charge ports: one for a regular wall charger, and one for DC fast charging. The regular wall charger cable is tucked away under the seat, and gives you a full charge in 12.5 hours, while DC fast charging should have the bike fully charged in an hour (those figures haven’t been verified yet).

This setup carries a hefty weight penalty though. The LiveWire sits at 549 pounds (249 kg), and one of Harley’s engineers told me that roughly seventy percent of that is the battery and motor. For the rest, H-D has used surprisingly light parts—like a modular cast aluminum frame that wraps around the battery, using it as a stressed member.

The frame’s actually constructed of multiple pieces, with a separate steering head, and left and right sections. That modular design is everywhere on the LiveWire; the subframe’s easily removable too, and all the electrical components are very neatly tucked under the ‘tank.’ So customization should be a cinch—as should adapting the LiveWire platform for different applications.

Fit and finish are impressive too. There’s not a single messy weld in sight, or a single part that looks out of place. The bodywork is all plastic, but it doesn’t look or feel dinky. All the lights are LED, and there’s hardly any visible cabling or plumbing.

There are a few bits to nitpick though. While the seat is nicely shaped, the upholstery between the rider and passenger pads (and the grab strap), is misaligned and wobbly. And even though the upholstered section just behind the ‘tank’ serves an ergonomic purpose, it reminds me too much of the leather tank covers you see on cruisers.

Up in the cockpit, all the wiring runs inside the handlebars—so the spindly wires running into the turn signals stick out like sore thumbs. The LiveWire uses the exact same switchgear design as the rest of Harley’s range, which is OK, since it works well and feels solid. But it also uses the same mirrors and grips as every other Harley, including the ubiquitous Sportster—and I’m not sure I’m cool with that.

Minor gripes aside, the LiveWire is an attractive motorcycle, electric or not. And it’s running some serious hardware too. There’s fully adjustable Showa suspension at both ends, and Brembo brakes with twin 300 mm discs up front. The tires are 17” Michelin Scorchers—120 mm wide up front, and 180 mm out back.

H-D has also packed a substantial amount of functionality into the LiveWire’s TFT display. Speed and battery charge take center stage, but ‘widgets’ on either side let you flick through everything from distance and running temperatures, to how much battery power’s being used under acceleration and deceleration.

It’s a touch screen unit, which is useful for diving into the menus and changing settings without having to fiddle with buttons. It’s a small unit though, and even though it’s really clear in varying light conditions, the widget areas feel cramped.

The LiveWire also integrates with your smartphone via a proprietary app. The app gives you the bike’s vitals, shows you where the nearest charging station is, and even sends you a push notification when someone tries to tamper with it. You can also call up navigation via your phone, with turn-by-turn instructions popping up on the display. And you can flick through music, by adding a Bluetooth helmet system into the mix.

Unfortunately the bikes we rode at the launch were pre-production units, which meant a lot of that functionality was missing. (It also meant that I had an occasional gremlin when starting my bike.)

The LiveWire’s start sequence is bizarrely uneventful. You flick the kill switch and make sure the side stand is up, then hold down the start button until a pair of yellow LED strips on either side of the dash turn green. The drive system is now active and ready to go, without as much as a burp.

H-D have built a haptic feedback feature into the motor, which basically just generates a intermittent throb to let you know the bike is ‘on.’ It’s a great idea, but the effect is far too vague, and actually sort of off-putting. With a little refinement, it could actually be a really neat feature, but I just couldn’t gel with it.

Pulling away is pretty trippy too. With no clutch or gears to engage, rolling on the throttle is all it takes to get moving. It took me a little while to acclimatize to the throttle’s pickup, but ultimately it’s a very smooth system, and if you whack it wide open, the surge of power really is quite thrilling.

H-D has clearly spent time getting the LiveWire’s engine mapping right. There’s a regenerative braking system too (which effectively regenerates energy as you close the throttle), and it feels a lot like normal engine braking.

There’s also a full complement of rider aids, including cornering ABS, rear-lift mitigation to keep the rear wheel planted during heavy braking, traction control, and an anti-slip system to prevent rear wheel lock under regenerative braking.

There are seven rider modes on board—four presets, and three that are customizable—and each determines the level available power, plus regenerative braking, throttle response and traction control. And there’s a separate switch to disable traction control altogether.

The preset modes are pretty self-explanatory: Sport, Road, Rain and Range. ‘Road’ mode is probably the best, offering smooth performance for day-to-day riding. ‘Sport’ mode opens the LiveWire up for more enthusiastic riding—but that also means the throttle is a little snatchier, and the ‘engine braking’ a little harder.

Our riding route took us from within Portland’s city limits, into the rolling forest-lined hills of the Pacific Northwest. Harley has pegged the LiveWire as a city bike, but it’s one hella good canyon-carver too.

For starters, the ergonomics are damn near perfect. From the upswept bars, to the rear-set pegs and comfy seat, it’s the setup that bikes like the H-D Street Road and Roadster should have come out with. You’re upright enough for good visibility in the city, tucked enough for quicker rides, and there’s ample leverage to push in and out of corners.

The PNW offered up some sweet corner sequences, and hustling the LiveWire through them was buckets of fun. That’s partly because it handles so well, and because those Showas do a good job of holding a line, while also soaking up unexpectedly bumpy sections of road.

But it’s also because there’s no clutch or transmission to fuss with, and no need to keep it at the right RPM. With excellent modulation from those Brembos, I found myself braking deep into corners, pitching the LiveWire over, and then seamlessly rolling on the throttle to launch it out the other side. Within minutes, utilizing the smooth characteristics of the electric drivetrain had become second nature.

You’re shifting a lot of weight around though, so I’d call the LiveWire surefooted rather than nimble. And with the slightly more aggressive throttle response (and regenerative braking) in Sport mode, pushing it hard did tire me out after a while.

There wasn’t much open road to test any top speed claims, but I did manage a ton at least once (anything north of 100 was a strain). And the eerie whir from the motor while pinning it between forests instantly ticked my Star Wars Land Speeder boxes.

We got stuck in traffic the second we headed back into town, but again, the lack of a clutch or gearbox made crawling from light to light less painful. And unlike the combustion Harleys that were riding with us, there was no niggling heat build up from an exhaust or motor. I did notice the LiveWire’s weight again in really slow maneuvers, but at rolling pace it was less of an issue.

I left South Africa hoping deeply that the LiveWire wouldn’t suck—and it truly exceeded my expectations. It’s not only a solid electric motorcycle, but also a sport naked with whip-cracking acceleration and respectable handling.

The only thing holding the LiveWire back could be its price. At $ 29,799 it’s not cheap, and the Zero SR/F in full spec trim offers more performance and range, for around $9,000 less.

But then again, none of the specialist electric motorcycle brands have the dealer network that Harley-Davidson does. The LiveWire’s set to hit 250 North American and European showrooms in September, each with a DC fast charging station and two years of free charges.

I’m not sure how I feel about the range either, but ultimately my opinion of the price and range matters a lot less than individual use case scenarios. Those numbers may be bitter pills to swallow for some riders, but for others, the chance to own a premium electric motorcycle from a major manufacturer just might outweigh the drawbacks. And whether range and charging are issues or not, depends entirely on your lifestyle.

There’s a perception that LiveWire sales will make or break Harley-Davidson’s future, but I don’t think that’s true at all. Halo products exist to juice up a brand, push their engineering departments to their limits and shatter perceptions.

The LiveWire has done just that, and has me excited for whatever Milwaukee has in the pipeline next.

Harley-Davidson | Facebook | Instagram | Images by H-D and Alessio Barbanti

Wes’ gear ICON 1000 Airform helmet | ICON 1000 Nightbreed jacket | ICON 1000 Nightbreed gloves | Saint Unbreakable stretch denims | Merlin x Urban Rider Onyx riding trainers