#Please stay around Vi she needs emotional support

[yangsoeuvre]

Chapter VI: Sinugdanan (IV)

Note #343: found under a noose hung under a treehouse, Volume I of Forgotten Entries From Dead and Missing Dreamers

In the end, I did what you said. 

With this, you could finally forgive me, and that's all what the remaining years of my pathetic life and servitude has ever wanted.

Still, despite our mortal experience, I pray to Bathala that our names have been our last words so that it may still echo to us in Maka. Though we are apart, my heart, please do not fret. The pain could last only until my body's death. My soul is then all yours. 

With blood and half-digested food, Yari vomits Indak out of her guts.

Indak Agui leaps out of her mouth and onto the floor, body quaking as she brings her knees to her chest and embraces herself. She lays there, coiling motionless with eyes wide open, as if struck traumatized by the aftermath of a storm. Paying no heed to the nauseating liquid and sticky substances that wrap around her form, she stays silent for a while, only watching the older woman’s slow and rhythmic breathing.

“It hurts.” The younger girl starts to whimper. “It hurts.”

She could feel her insides crumpling and the skin burning off her face. Her bones beg to bend on their own and tear her apart from within. The blood pumping in her system sounds like it could crawl out of her throat until she spits it all out. All sorts of intolerable emotions—anger, sadness, fear, disgust, regret—drown her thoughts into a sea of nothingness.

It feels like a shower of a thousand knives nailed every point of her body to where she’s meant to rot. It slashes through her skin and twists into her muscles. Though blood does not reveal itself from all the parts of her that hurt, every bit of torment she currently experiences makes her want to put a noose around her neck and jump until she hangs limp and dead.

The battered woman tied upside down in front of her smirks. “It is only less than what I deserve.”

On her once delicate face, now black and blue after becoming bruised into unrecognition, the expression looks more twisted. Despite her disfigurement, her eyes still smile with a glint of silver in her eyes, as if reassuring the small girl that things on her end seem fine.

Indak struggles to sit up, her arms wobbling as she supports herself into the position. With a pained expression still on her face, she drags herself closer to the mangkukulam and bangs her forehead on the bamboo floor.

“It hurts!”, she repeats with a face wet with tears. “Make it stop. Please, make it all disappear.”

“Today, my child,” Yari whispers, her warm breath blowing the hair on the top of her head, “you received the nightmare of witnessing my tragedy through my eyes. I commend your consciousness and your spirit’s resilience for you managed to crawl right to the very end, until my bitter collapse.”

“What are you talking about? None of this is real and it makes no sense!” Indak chokes in her own spit and a surge of fury intermingles into the torment she feels. “Why do I have to understand this type of pain as some trial assessment for balyan? It’s not my life! None of your decisions are mine and it's not a lesson I have to learn. You did this to yourself.”

Yari softly laughs. “You’re right. None of this is real. That is also one of the reasons your spirit made it up to here. You are of sound mind to discern even my story, a bit of truth that has yet to be revealed to the rest of the world.”

"Exactly!" Indak’s hands curl into fists. “You willingly helped the colonial god attain power through you, and that is all there is to this part of Lam-ang’s history. I don’t need to understand the motives or perspective of someone that hurt a lot of people out of–of selfishness I—”

She stops herself as an image of calatagan pots and a banaba tree in the middle of the meadow flashes through her mind.

Yari glances at the girl. “You don’t dare to call it something out of love?”

“Shut up, you fake,” Indak snaps, her lips trembling. “Is it fun to you? And I’m not talking to you, I’m talking to the one who designed the trials. Is it fun? To make me live in her mind for a long time until I am traumatized? A made up narration about some dead traitor’s life? I witnessed everything and felt it at the same time, down to the punishment this old woman endured!”

Only dead air answers her frustrations.

Yari blinks up at the quaking girl’s fragile state. “You are still a child after all. One day, you will be able to understand the rest of the world, but if this is truly the only thing you are able to comprehend after everything, then you are forever doomed.”

Indak glares at the disfigured woman. "It didn't have to be delivered this way, if you want to make a point about something. Why would you make me feel how it is to give birth to children eighteen times and suffer for it? Why do you want me to watch the world burn, blood and guts on the streets you once called your home? I don't understand!"

Yari smiles.

“Don’t worry, child. When you wake up, you will not remember anything. All trace of me will be lost from your grasp and will be that way unless someone from your generation will emerge to seek the truth. This world is still haunted by the past. The ashes of those who died still scatter within the soil you grew up in. I still remain alone even after my death.”

The mangkukulam's eyelids drop and she turns around from where she hangs, her bloodied back now facing the young girl. “But, one day, when someone truly comes forth to dig up the graves and find all of my remains, everything will rewrite itself. Things that stayed dormant will burn again. For better or for worse, time will race back to where it all began. Soon, when you’re old enough to understand, you will realize the amount of cruelty it will take to give birth to innocence once more."

A group of people barge into the nipa hut, slamming the door open and marching with heavy steps towards the girl on the floor. The intrusion puts out the questions that still squeeze Indak Agui's throat, and her confusion latches on to their manhandling on her person. Without even a last look from the mangkukulam, they harshly drag her away by the arms and into a gathering in front of the hut.

Indak struggles in their hold. "Where are you taking me? I—"

They halt right by the last step of the nipa hut's ladder.

Dressed in the finest malong and lihin-lihin, the Mayari speaks to the people with their head held high as they tightly holds a torch in one hand. Obvious veins trace down their neck and the dodecagram on their forehead looks almost faded against the light.

"Over the past few decades, the colonial god of Ines seized Lam-ang in his darkness," the kapitan says.

"He possessed our souls, corrupted our third eyes, and overruled our own conscience by embracing us with sins that are not of our own doing. He tarnished all innocence this world was once made of and transformed us into our own monsters. There is no greater horror than becoming what we once sought to conquer. My late husband, Matahom Naiad, sweet and kind as he is, could not bear to hurt more of the people he loved dearly. First, he chopped the hands that enabled the vile. Second, he threw himself off the cliff by midnight."

The crowd screams in anguish and cries in despair. Some fell to their knees and mourned their loved ones that had the same things happen to them.

Indak shakes her head. For a second, her heart almost hurt.

It has nothing to do with me.

"But we have no fault on this, my people." Tala turns their back on them and gazes at the hut behind. "The power was served on a silver platter to the colonial god by the very person we welcomed. We trusted her. We fed her. We gave her all the love we are capable of. However, it was never what she was after. She dreamt of our destruction more than anything. The mangkukulam only serves the most wicked of spirits and so wicked she had been."

Tala lowers the torch on the ladder of the nipa hut, setting the wood aflame and watching it slowly burn. The crowd chants the words 'burn, burn, burn' over and over again, and the kapitan mumbles something inaudible into the air before facing the crowd once again. Indak sees them silently shed a tear or two.

"To burn the mangkukulam means to burn the curse with her. With this fire, may the bloodshed end. With her death, may the darkness be lifted."

Before she could see the end of the fire, she gets dragged out of the clearing and shoved into another empty nipa hut. She topples through the curtains that block the entrance and collapses, face first, to the floor.

Once she sits up properly and lifts her head, the scene that greets her drives her into a wall. Quite similar to her state, most of the thirty-five other children inside with her puke spit and blood onto the wooden planks. Some chose to cry while embracing each other and the rest became a congregation of idiots that only muttered vague things to themselves.

Amidst this spectacle, the bald balyan flashes into view and looks at each and every one of them. He pulls out a compiled pad of parchments and skims through them.

"Congratulations for making it this far, triers. Your fellow triers' consciousness have fallen long ago, into the abyss of Yari the Mangkukulam's perspective. We have removed them off the Sinugdanan and they're being treated in Oasis Balyan for fast recovery." He clears his throat once more, ignoring the absence of his desired audience's full attention. "For the rest of you that made it to the final ladder of the trials, this last assessment will truly determine the top twelve to emerge as the most suitable to practice the art of balyan."

"Thank you. Thank you very much," Indak mumbles. "You had to drive us all insane first before installing us into the hagdan? Is this a test of who is going to end up most traumatized and mentally unstable?"

The bald balyan scoffs upon hearing her words in the middle of weeping children. "That's funny, kid. You might be right because we've got a plethora of those up in the hagdan."

Indak buries her face on her knees and hugs her legs.

The bald man clears his throat once again. "I have no time to soothe your whining. That's your problem. Only those who get their shit together will know how to succeed. The Sinugdanan had always been a test of endurance. Knowing the horrors you will have to face in the future once you get in, the balyan we would need for the job should be those who are capable of moving forward. Despite trauma and terror, a balyan always, always does the job. You must be the most resilient for the people you serve."

He walks to the wall behind him and brushes the surface with his fingers. "Behind this is your last test. You must, at all cost, burn the body and properly prepare the ashes into the burial jar. You must never falter when doing so. Failure to stay on your feet will be subject to exclusion in the final sugdi list. This is truly a taxing stage, but do try your best. And no, you cannot close your eyes. That's disrespectful."

The wall parts and reveals a room with a large, horizontal table at the center. A lit torch lays at the side and manunggul jars line up on the shrine of Bathala behind it. In a box underneath, gold jewelry, masks, and an assortment of gemstones and medallions fill the container to the brim.

"A burial rite?", Indak hears the boy laying in front of her whisper to himself. He puts his hands beneath his head and rests a foot on one folded leg. "I don't care."

He turns his back on the balyan and snores.

Indak can't exactly recognize their face in the dark, but someone familiar to her stands up and volunteers. "I would like to go first, Senyor!"

"No, I would like to go first!" Some other person from behind the first volunteer pushes them back down on the floor and rushes to the other side. "The best one always goes first. Stand back and watch the master."

You’re right.

The best always comes first.

The best will always survive.

Her fellow trier’s announcement woke Indak up and pulled her out of drowning into another set of depressing emotions. With a deep exhale, she crawls past writhing, nauseated triers and stands behind the second volunteer.

She meets the gaze of the bald balyan. “I’ll do it. Please.”

The person in front of her whips their head around, their long, inky hair sharply slapping her cheeks. They look her up and down as their mouth twists in disgust. “Ew. Who are you? You don’t look like someone important.”

Despite sill feeling sick to her stomach, Indak manages to roll her eyes at them. She shifts her attention back to the host. “I want to go first.”

"Alright, kid." The bald man gestures for her to step to the front. "It's simple. Just find the body you want to personally attend to. Good luck, and remember that you're not allowed to look away."

Once Indak Agui passes the other side of the corridor, the bald balyan shoves her further into the room and shuts the wall behind her. With a bit of hesitation, she pursues the table in front of her, but before she could take more than five steps towards it, limp bodies abruptly drop down around her. The corpses hang through the ropes on the ceiling, by a noose around their neck, and their blood-soaked clothes stick to their scarred bodies.

The hairs on Indak Agui's nape stands up as the sight of the dead makes her skin crawl. She curls her hands into fists when her legs begin to shake, nails almost digging through her palms. Blood starts flooding the floor, and she braces her mind enough to not falter in the midst of it.

With slow steps, she drags herself through it, only glancing up at their grayish eyes and pale brown lips to find some semblance of a person she recognizes. After going in circles, her feet stops in front of a corpse that looks awfully similar to her figure. When she raises a hand to part the body's hair away from the face, her other hands cups her own face to restrain a scream.

So, this is what she looks like after death.

Gathering a knife on the table and a stool from underneath, she cuts the body out of the noose and hugs it to her form. Heaving, she puts it down on the flat surface and starts to undress it. Next, she wipes the grime off its skin with a warm towel and clothes it with clean garments.

She does all this while holding her breath and clenching her teeth.

When preparations are finally finished, her trembling hand grips the handle of the torch. She tips it down to the corpse until the fire spreads to their clothes and through her skin. She remains watching her dead clone burn for a long, long while that her legs start to feel numb and the tears lining her eyes start to dry. Once nothing else but the ashes of what used to be her body remains, she gathers them in a palm leaf basket and pours them into an empty manunggul jar.

She sets the burial jar in front of the shrine and offers a few golden jewelry from the barrel and to the altar. On her knees, she pleads the ferryman of spirits to take good care of the deceased and deliver it with ease to Maka.

When all is said and done, the young Agui stands with wobbly legs and leaves the area.

She leans her body on the frame and knocks on the wall three times to call for the host from the other side. As soon as it opens to receive her, she collapses in the balyan's arms that caught her just in time.

"Congratulations. I'd still have to judge the results with the Silya Pentagram and the pinuno when this last evaluation produces more than twelve qualifiers again, but you still did really well, kid," the bald balyan says, a smile lighting his face up.

"Burying your comrades will become a common occurrence in the hagdan, and the horror of how they would die is something that we cannot avoid to witness. It's better to know who among you could actually face that. Once you're wiser, you'd realize that you also have to bury yourself alive to survive."

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The brittle yellow color of their ceiling stares back at her as the sun creeps through the open capiz shell windows, lighting a side of her face and shading a part of her hair bronze. As she drowns in the sounds of children's laughter and the little stomps of their bakya from outside her room, the smell of sinigang wafts past her nose and makes her mouth water.

She finds herself back in her bamboo bed, cocooned in a blanket raised to her chest and wearing a duster soaked in her sweat. Sitting up, her eyes blink into focus at the colored stick drawings that her father glued to her walls. They were all from their leisure activities in Tandang Mirisi, back when she still sees him a lot more frequently and when they had nothing better to do after a few boring hours out of the Akademya. She could still remember crayons and pencils littered around the tables of the coffeehouse and cattle milk spilling on gampi paper.

At the very center of those randomly pasted stick figures is that stitching she got from him as last year’s Panalangin, a blessing from guardian to child.

“A shared legacy, my little flame. It does look like the honorable Agui’s abode, no?”

Still half-asleep, she extends an arm towards it and absentmindedly traces each detail with an outstretched finger.

The flamed field surrounds a duyan-slung tree. Its leaves become ashes black as coal and flutter like embers in the wind, burning with it the vivid wings of the butterflies that cascade through its fire.

She tilts her head to the side. “Where have I seen that before?”

"Have you finally lost your mind, Indak Agui?"

A flick to her ear cuts her attempt of recollection short, and she squeaks at the stern tone of her mother’s voice. “Ma!”

She turns to face an older woman in an apron and a dirt-stained duster, sitting beside her bed and keeping a tight hold on the small wooden basin and towel on her lap. Indak’s eyes linger longer at her mother’s hanging eyelids and the loose strands falling from her bun and to her bowed shoulders. Glancing down, she also notices her bandaged fingers.

Chada’s brows meet when she follows her daughter’s gaze. She shakes her head once and glares down at her. “ "Ginoo ko, Indak Agui. Keep your voice down.”

"Shouldn't have scared me then," Indak mumbles as she picks up the mug of water on her bedside drawer and chugs it down. She blinks down at her mother’s hands again. “You can stop working when I become balyan. Those hands appear more terrible each day.”

"Don't talk to your mother like that, Indak Agui." Her mother gives her a look as she fills the empty mug with more water from an earthenware jar. "What I do, you know you couldn't live without."

True.

Her father took a time off the hagdan a few years back for a short while, right after the Six Point Bloodbath. During that break, they have been living through her mother's earnings in her work in their village's cleaning services. Paham Agui insisted his time be used to help, but her mother strongly objected to the idea. She remembers enough of their fights when she was five, and they almost always revolved around the subject.

Chada says he needs to mourn his tribesmen without other worries, perform the rites to send their spirits away to Maka properly, and let the recent events of their tribe’s massacre settle down first before returning to his post.

"What about the Sinugdanan?" Indak asks, almost forgetting the most important matter of her whole life. “How did I get home?”

Her mother's face blanks as she soaks the towel in the basin filled with warm water. She brings it to her daughter's face, cleaning the sweat that clung to her forehead and neck. "Balyan brought you around midday yesterday. You were weak and pale with very high fever. I should have thrown a rag to their face. Ginoo ko, I’ve never seen you so fragile until that time. What even happened in your batch’s trials?"

Indak stares at her sore feet and rubs her wrists as she recalls the details of the trials. When she racks her brain, images of a deck of cards and proctors guarding an empty nipa hut appear in her mind. "Card games.”

Her mother pauses, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Card games?”

Indak tries to reach for her memories again and another set of unfamiliar images come to the forefront. “I was sitting on a large table across two other triers. We played tongits with each other. The one who fails will be refused a chance to advance to the next level. I never got left behind and even made it to the last level.”

“That’s weird.” She scratches her scalp at her own narration as her forehead creases in confusion. “But I’m sure that’s what really happened.”

Chada nods. “That’s unfortunate. You’ve never been good at card games.”

The image of a grinning bald man vigorously shaking her hand flashes through her mind. “Congratulations, sugdi. Welcome to Balyan Hagdan.”

“Ma…I think I p—”

"It is fine if you failed,” her mother interrupts. "I prefer seeing you safe here in Bonifacio. It would be too meddlesome to have you bloodied through Melchora."

"You mean you prefer me rotting here and dying like an ordinary person." Indak mutters as she meets Chada's gaze with a spark of anger visible in her eyes. “Ma, the mortality rate for civilians is higher than that of balyan. We’re defenseless. If another war breaks out in the near future, or if the colonial god returns to end us for good, I won’t even have the chance to run for my life before either of the two attempts to crush me. More than that, Urduja would want the ancient and influential tribes to be the first under the safety nets.”

Chada sighs, exasperated. “You’re overreacting. That mindset is not your responsibility to bear.”

“Ma, listen to me.” Indak grabs her mother’s free hand. “I’ll try my very best to live to my seventies, if you allow it. I can even protect you.”

“Your father is already balyan. He can protect both of us.”

Indak shakes her head. “It’s not enough—”

Chada flips her hand over and returns the tightness of the smaller girl’s grip. “Indak Agui, should I visit the Akademya and interrogate your cousin and teachers about all the nonsense you’re spouting right now? A serious conversation with whoever convinced you that some war or the colonial god would return is in place. Or this may just be the result of your lack of participation in your subjects. You completely forgot the first and second pinuno got rid of that filthy god a long, long time ago.”

“You wouldn’t know that. You can never be too sure,” she insists. "If Papa was here, he would agree with me. He would also encourage me to be balyan."

Chada roughly pulls away from her hold and swiftly stands. “The flu is chasing you delirious with paranoia. It’s better you lay back down and get more sleep.”

Indak slams the mug on the drawer and jumps to her feet on her bed. “You just never understood me, that's why I hate living with you!”

A deafening silence washes over the room, and her mother stares back at her with her mouth clamped shut.

When Indak attempts to take back her words, mouth opening and closing a few times, a knock on the door distracts her and sways her mother’s attention off her form and to the direction of its source.

The older woman lowers the basin to the floor and walks out of her room to answer the door, but not before giving her daughter one last glare. “We will talk later.”

Indak leaps to her room's entryway curtains and shifts the curtain of piña fiber open. She sticks half of her head out, just enough to see her mother slide the bifold doors and come face to face with a familiar figure. She skims the man up and down, slowly recalling the bald host of this season's Sinugdanan.

The man also notices her staring as he looks over her mother's shoulder to wink at her before his greetings.

"Reyna Manlangiten." Her mother bows her head. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"You've gotten too polite." The bald man snickers. "You act like I don't know your Paham, kid."

Her mother bends even lower. "It is only proper, Reyna."

The reyna sighs. "Please don't do that, kid."

Hearing the balyan mention her father's name, Indak emerges from her room and rushes towards him in a half-run. "So you’re his mentor.”

"Indak Agui, show some respect," the woman reprimands her daughter in a whisper. "This is Reyna Likha Manlangiten of the Balyan Hagdan."

"You’re that teacher, right?”, she repeats, moving closer to him.

Her mother opens her mouth to apologize but stops when the senyor puts a hand on Indak’s head. "So this must be Paham’s spawn. You look just like your mother."

Chada bows to him again. "I apologize for her, Reyna."

"Kid, it's fine." Reyna Likha Manlangiten waves her apologies off before squatting in front of Indak, the sun’s light reflecting off the tiny scratches on his head. "What do you mean ‘that teacher’? What kind of nonsense did your father say about me?"

“Papa says you like extorting money from helpless children like him back then,” she confesses without missing a beat. "Why are you here? Does he have something to relay to us? Or did you want to personally pick me up? I’ll pack right away."

"Slow down, kid." The man ruffles her hair and raises an eyebrow at her in disbelief. “So your father took the liberty to talk more shit, now that he’s an old man like me. Back then, the brat used to vandalize the gates of Nieves Base too much with those horrible drawings of his, and idjang used to chase him around the baryo for it. Extort, my ass. He was just getting fined for it, that kid.”

“Ah, good times. My husband also used to scold me about your father’s stupid antics. Argued why I can’t discipline my proteges well.” Likha grins, revealing a fond expression on his face. “But forget that. Would you excuse your mother and me for a bit, kid? I would like to talk to her privately."

Indak looks back and forth between him and her mother.”Is it really that confidential?”

He teases her with an insincere frown. "Top secret, kid. Absolutely prohibited information for amateurs."

"I bet it’s not even that big of a deal.”

“You’re too young to gamble.”

Indak rolls her eyes at him.

“It can’t be. Impossible.” Chada mumbles as she massages her forehead with her eyes tightly shut. She grabs her daughter’s shoulders and whirls her towards her. “Indak Agui. Cook some rice and viand for the both of us. Wash the vegetables properly and clean the pots well. Sanitize before holding anything. Remember to sweep the floor. I’ll come back later after our talk with the reyna.”

She opens her mouth to complain. "Why—"

Her mother’s grip on her shoulders tightens. “Please.”

Without waiting for her response, Chada puts on her purple bakya, follows the bald man on the way out of their home, and slams the door behind her.

“I’ll put a seal up so she doesn’t try to follow us, kid,” she hears Likha say from outside. “Just in case.”

“Many thanks, Reyna,” her mother agrees. “It would be best to take precautions around that child. She’s got the stubbornness of her father.”

“Well, she’s definitely not as polite as you.”

When Indak hears a few scraping sounds by the walls, and the balyan mumbling a few incoherent words, she grabs hold of the handles of their sliding doors and roughly tries to pull it open. When it doesn’t budge, she slams her fists on them and lets out a sigh of frustration. She hears them walk away after a while, carrying on an inaudible conversation as the clacks of their bakya fade to lighter footsteps.

Indak scoffs. “You must be joking.”

She stays standing by the door for a long time, only staring at the wooden frame while repeatedly running her hands through her hair and down her face. As her feet grow numb, she recalls her mother’s leftover directions and decides to follow through with them to pass the time. She might even utilize her obedience as a bribe.

Just watch.

As soon as Chada comes back, she’ll not retire from bothering her about their secret conversation.

Grumbling under her breath, she walks towards the back of their house and into their kitchen while constantly pressing the back of her legs for some relief. She fetches a kabo of warm water from the jar by the drainer—a row of wooden pickets in one of the windows—and washes her hands with it. Before walking over to their kalan, she pours a pint of rainbow gum oil on her palm and spreads it on both her hands.

Indak pulls out two clay pots and fills both with water from the barrel. She rolls her hair in a bun with a wooden ladle and proceeds to build a fire on a wooden bench with two wood-fired stone burners. With a match, she lights up the chopped wood underneath it and places one pot on the stove and leaves it to boil.

For the other pot, she opens the ulbong basket from the corner and places three cups of rice grains inside. After washing it two times, she fills the pot again with clean water and puts its lid on before positioning it on the burner.

She collects okra, eggplant, malunggay, alugbati, squash, taro root, yard long beans, and tomatoes from a heavy bamboo tray that hangs by a rope above a square, wooden table. On a walnut cutting board, she slices the vegetables in even sizes and then sinks them into the boiling water. She covers the pot after adding a few spices.

As she waits for the vegetables and rice to soften and cook, she allows herself to rest on a stool and stand by for her mother’s arrival. She remains sitting still, staring at the kalan’s smoke that escapes through the hole of their kitchen’s bamboo and palm roof. When she feels her neck grow weary, she bows her head to observe her bare feet on their wood-planked floor instead.

When Indak hears the sliding doors click open, she stumbles towards the entrance, just in time to see her mother enter their house with a brown envelope in her hand. Surprisingly, Chada doesn’t return the farewell at the bald balyan waving his goodbye from outside. Instead, she crumples the envelope then bangs the doors shut in his face.

Her mother’s face is grim when she looks down at her. “Did you do what I asked?”

Demanded, more like.

She nods. “What did the two of you talk about?”

“You didn’t forget to wash the vegetables? Did you set the table yet?”, her mother asks, ignoring her question.

Indak’s forehead wrinkles in annoyance. “No. What’s in the envelope? Is it about Papa? Can I read it?”

Chada squats down and sets her bakya to the side. “Indak, you still have a lot to learn in the kitchen. It’s so important that you wash your vegetables first before putting them in the pot. What if critters are crawling over them? Do you intend to eat bugs in your laswa?”

“That’s not important right now, Ma!”

Before stepping into their salas, she washes her feet by the door, wipes it clean with a warm towel, and massages them with a drop of eucalyptus oil. She walks past her daughter and advances through their kitchen, and Indak tails her with a roll of her eyes.

When the smell of burnt rice reaches her nose, she whirls around, glaring, and snatches the laddle in her daughter’s hair. “What are you doing, Indak Agui? Your rice is overcooked! The fire is too strong!”

Her mother puts down the crumpled envelope on the table in favor of closing the air vents and securing the kalan so the flames die down to embers. She opens the pots and presses the laddle through the cooked rice before holding its sides with a dry rag and placing them on a pot holder.

Indak takes her mother’s distraction as an opportunity to smoothen the envelope and try to open it, but before she could read its content, Chada snatches it from her hand, almost tearing it in half.

“Set the table, Indak,” the older woman says, her tone stern and offering no space for protest.

Indak stomps over to the other side of the room while shooting a glare at her mother’s back. To make her irritation obvious, she harshly opens the small cabinet hanging by the wall and ensures to clink the round acacia plates and glass mugs together as she piles them in her arms. She turns around just in time to see her mother about to throw the envelope into the fire.

Indak drops the mugs on the floor and steps on its sharp fragments.

Chada lets go of the envelope in alarm, the brown material falling to her feet as she whips towards her direction. “Indak!”

When she sees the cracked glass and the blood from Indak’s foot that spread on a few pieces, she crosses the room in an instant and pulls Indak away by the arm and out of its vicinity. She hoists her up by the waist and sits her on a stool.

“Stay here, or the wound will get infected. I’ll find some herbs and bandages outside the compound first,” her mother tells her with a worried expression on her face before rushing out the kitchen.

After Indak hears her mother exit their house again, she jumps out of the stool and crawls over to the envelope. She hurriedly rips it open and unfolds the documents that contain it, eager to read about the matter that her mother tried to keep from her.

“I was right,” Indak says, a relieved smile growing on her face. “I passed.”

[fifty-first-worstidea]

Headcanons For Violet, But Not All Of Them. It Gets Awkward In The Beginning, And It’ll Be A Little Longer As It Continues.

-She just can’t comprehend what sex is, sorry. She absolutely refuses to learn about Sex Ed with the younger kids, and Louis teases her about it whenever he can.

-Of course, she has a bit of an idea about it, just doesn’t know what the details are. Vi was sent to Ericson’s before the myth, the legend, the dread known as The Video was even shown at her school.

-Chronic masturbation??? She thinks only guys can go fuck themselves. Nope, never heard of a girl doing what Willy does. Never. She still doesn’t want to be reminded of his reasons to be a troubled youth, but she’s glad he’s here anyway (In a somewhat maternal way).

-”Hi yes what the FUCK is a masturbate.”

-Was part of Girl Scouts before Ericson’s. Of course, she doesn’t have very strong memories of the meetings, she mainly joined because it was one of her childhood friend’s birthdays. It wasn’t like she was there for long, she went to the boarding school about three months after she joined.

-She finds that using childish words instead of proper words is fun and a lot more exciting. It kinda feels like somebody set fire to her body, but in a good way. Abdomen? Nah, she’ll call it her tummy. Never heard of sleepy, don’t you mean “seepy?” The people who notice her word choice around certain friends find it somewhat endearing.

-Camp Paya was essentially the only home she had during the summer. With her mother too busy, her father too drunk, and her grandparents too dead, she had plenty of time to work on archery, arts and crafts, and other random shit she found to be at least a little interesting.

-Violet is drawn towards fire, she loves being warm. She once went camping and the campfire was mesmerizing to watch. The morning after, she saw that it had almost completely died out and brought it back to life with the little heat that it had left. Call her a pyromaniac, but she loves watching the flames dance so happily and carelessly.

-Born and raised in either Florida or California until she was 4, Vi and her mother moved to...is Ericson’s in West Virginia??? I honestly don’t know, but they moved there to be closer to Violet’s grandmother, Charlotte Irene Knight, and her grandfather, Jeffery Bryan Knight.

-For some reason her grandparents’ names are important, I wouldn’t know why.

-Violet has never owned jewelry, but if she had to wear something that was at least compared to it, she’d probably carve herself a wooden shank and tie it to some rope, then refer to it as a necklace. Whittling is something that she never fully got into because of the outbreak, but she’d like to try it someday.

-Despite how good she was with people when she was younger, the apocalypse changed her in a way that’s like starving yourself- even when you stop living that way, there are still parts of you that are lost forever. Being returned to civilization would send Violet in a panic, she’d probably try to stay in a house for as long as she could. Actually interacting with strangers makes her feel like she’s fighting walkers again, she’ll probably stutter a lot when talking.

-Her lithe form is due to both the way she gets her fitness (She might not lift weights or whatever, but she climbs and runs) and the way she conditions herself (She’s more often than not offering a good portion of her food to Tenn). Think of her as a lightweight fighter; Violet’s not very good at wrestling, but she can bite and scratch just fine without the strength of somebody like Clementine.

-She probably gave up breakfast long ago before the outbreak- maybe somewhere around 9 years old. Because she isn’t used to having food in the morning she might not be able to hold in something that somebody like Louis could scarf down easily.

-Violet’s obviously very skinny. She doesn’t even need to breathe in deeply for her rib cage to be visible. The first time she had a conversation with Louis and he knew her bones practically jutted out of her skin he gasped and exclaimed “The purple skeleton can speak!” 

-Canon divergence alert! Violet went to Ericson’s when she was 7 years old, almost about to turn 8, thank you very much.

-She was cooped up in the library before Clementine came around. Everyday, when everyone was doing stuff that they didn’t need her assistance for, she was learning and taking notes about Agriscience, something about Algebra, and maybe even researched Botany to contribute to Ruby’s field of medicine.She never planned to use the information frequently for the last one, just when nobody else could help somebody with injuries or when Ruby herself got hurt.

-The cast on her leg is from breaking it somewhere right after the outbreak. She hasn’t broken anything since, and even though her ankle is completely healed, she still likes wearing it because it’s somewhat warm. When Ms. Martin kept her confined to her bed due to her ankle Ruby was the one to tell her about all the helpful way plants could be used. It’s been a while since she’s had to gather or harvest plants to make into medical supplies.

-Piano isn’t one of her strong points, but she has a guilty pleasure of trying to play Clair De Lune when Louis isn’t around to tease her for her bad playing skills.

-Violet has an overwhelming urge to protect Tenn and Willy from anything or anybody, and while she tries to push it down back into her heart, she can’t help it if she praises Tenn in a high-pitched voice or tries to teach Willy about manners. 

-”Ay, Willy, don’t wipe your face with your hand. You’ll get crusty stuff on your sleeves- Willy, what did I tell you about eating slowly? You’re bound to get a stomachache from that...Oh well, don’t come crying to me when you feel the need to vomit.”

-She gets cold a lot easier than anybody else in the boarding school. Sorry folks, it’s a fact.

-If she closes her eyes, relaxes, or even turns her back to you, it means she trusts you. Violet has behaviors similar to a cat.

-She feels the need to tell Louis and Marlon whatever she feels is wrong, and it’s not because they're the “leaders” or whatever. It’s because she’s been by them the most and the longest compared to any of the other troubled youth kids.

-Violet has no clue if she’s actually a lesbian, but she’ll focus on her feeling first and worry about labels later.

[swinterr]

fic rec vi ♡

hi!

this is a another new set of fic rec and i’ll probably do a compilation of genre (?) just like the first ones.

made some changes like tidying up a bit and adding summary, for those that doesn’t have any summary i’ll try my best to add my own summary (it will probably be shit tho, i ain’t making a smut summary guys, i’m not confident in my describing a fic ability but i’ll try my best. if its in italic it means i made the summary hehez )  if the summary is shit, i made it okay.

read and support the fic and authors here: the fic rec ♡

a for angst

f for fluff

s for smut

// for series or list

nct 

jeno

no title by @tyongf-nct | s

- smut blurb.

body guards and boyfriend by @pastelsicheng | f

-  sometimes the only way you can really get some alone time with your boyfriend is by making his job hard.

lipstick smears by @kopikokun | f

-  jeno never thought trying to get his makeup artist’s attention would be this hard.

jaehyun

[10:30] by @moonttaeil | 

- a lockdown moment.

[2:40] by @nct-jungjaehyun | f a

- cute quality fluff time with bf!jae with a dash of angst.

[11:41] by @jeongvision | f 

- family time with apples.

just like magic by @starryhyuck | f s

-  jung jaehyun’s body count is almost as high as yours. however, after yuta spreads a nasty rumor, you learn that jaehyun’s always imagined those girls to be you instead.

love to hate me by @moonctzeny | s a 

-  you and jaehyun meet as sm trainees, developing a friendship until he debuts and you decided to leave the company and pursue a solo career. when you reunite again in a music show and he acts like he barely knows you, you stubbornly begin a series of hate-brimmed sex rendez-vous. your touch-and-go relationship continues on, until a song collaboration will force you both to deal with all your repressed feelings for each other.

moving on by @ddeonghwaa | f a

- reader has been chasing jae for some time but when she moved on jae suddenly enter the picture.

sun&moon by @ppangjae | f a

-  asking jeong jaehyun to accompany you to your family’s 1-week christmas vacation as your boyfriend has its consequences. one can surely get through 1 week of pretending to be in love with an enemy, right?

snack run with a snack by @kopikokun | f 

-  on your usual movie night with the members, they assign you sudden snack collecting duty. you’re a little peeved, but at least jaehyun offers to tag along. Unfortunately for you, things really aren’t going in your favour tonight.

lover boy by @neoct-zen | f s

- bunch fics of lover boy jae and reader.

jungwoo

one more time, please by @haequarius | f s

-  you don’t know what you and Jungwoo are, but you are certainly weak for him.

jealous by @whiplashsan | s 

-  jungwoo is all smiles and sunshine until he gets jealous, and he just so happens to get jealous over the smallest things when it comes to you.

doyoung

sugar, spice and everything not nice by @alreadyblondenow | s

-  doyoung getting your ring size wrong, unprotected sex, kitchen sex, slight fingering, wedding tragedies.

no title by @ncteaxhoe | s

- dom!doyoung, rough? i need holy water.

the little one by @ethaeriyeol | f 

-  a gift of life; female reader x husband!Doyoung; fluff, light angst, married au

lucas

exquisite taste by @weishenkonbini | s f

- smut but with a fluffy ending.

for you always by @labyrinthsofyou | f

-  in which you surprise yukhei when he forgets about your date.

6:19 by @cozykpopblurbs | f

- a cute fluff ft kun and winwin.

10:18 pm by @nctsoftarchives | f

- reader supports lucas at his superm debut stage. 

16:47 by @sichengssmile | f s 

- a fluffy smut. lucas a big boi.

missed you by @tokyobts | a f

-  after you and yukhei broke up, yukhei still has feelings for you. he reaches out to you at school and tries to get you back. at first you avoid him but later his actions manage to make your heart flutter. you’ve come to a sudden conclusion that you maybe still want him in your life.

johnny

34 + 35 by @domjaehyun | s 

- you and your husband johnny decide to take your marriage to the next step.

i couldn’t wait a little longer by @alreadyblondenow | s f a

-  you two were never together longer than two days, but the feelings, oh the feelings that you have for each other is clear as the day. it was a never-ending try of making the relationship official. johnny tried, you tried but it never happens.

what happens in korea, not stays in korea by @alreadyblondenow | f s 

-  a week vacation in korea for your sister’s wedding became even more exciting when a famous dj had a crush on you. johnny was sure that it’s love at first sight. not putting both of your careers on the line, you two had no regrets when the time comes and you finally leave.

laundry day by @immabiteyou | s

- a domestic fluffy smut.

make a wish by @sluttyten | s f a

-  you’re jungwoo’s sister, and he’s made it clear he wants you and Johnny to have nothing to do with each other. so you and johnny start fake dating to piss him off.

want it all by @sluttyten | f s 

-  you are entirely innocent to the point of being naive. johnny is not innocent, but he loves that you are because it means he can teach you everything you don’t know.

sungchan

wish i was her by @softsungchan | f a 

-  you wished you were her, laying in Sungchan’s arms and feeling his warm breath on your neck, giggling about sweet nothings whispered into the starry night. You wished for it to be you, the girl he liked.

2:21 am by @the32ndbeat | f 

- sungchan being whipped, thru a text message.

haechan

14:52 by @ukiyoexo | f

- a cute haechan and reader ft the reader’s baby sister moment.

prince’s order by @nsheetee | f

-  prince haechan nurses you after you faint, and orders you to stay with him until you feel better.

sweet treat by @markresonates | s

-  haechan takes you for ice cream but all you can think about is sex with him.  when you act like a brat, eventually you end up in the bathroom. with no panties. 

clingy by @love-mi | f 

-  I’m not clingy! I just love your company and constantly want to be around you and have your full attention at all times

mark

hyuck is always right by @luvrenjun00 | f 

- ceo!mark x reader ft baby donghyuck. a tooth-rotting fluff.

taeyong

snow storm by @whereisten | f s 

- a fluffy smut whilst a snow storm.

1:59 by @smoll-tangerine | f

- reader and taeyong ft my favorite game (where i always die first) among us!

bts

taehyung

is this allowed 1 2 by @seokiie  | f s

- how were you supposed to know bts would be filming at your coffee shop today? how were you supposed to know a certain curly-haired boy would take a liking  to you?

cabin pressure | f by @jiminrings | f 

-  pilot!y/n who accidentally became famous bc of a viral post about her, best friend!jimin!, taehyung having a shy lil crush on you aND ot7 being meanies for a tad bit :((

art major!tae and biochem major!yn | f by @jiminrings | f

-  tae’s cold and probably needs a friend more than he needs a model, y/n feels this nEED to take care of him, a term of enderment then a dash of emotional constipation and a sprinkle of jealousy :D

gank mid lane by @kimtaehyunq | f s 

- gank / verb: (in a video game) use underhand means to defeat or kill (a less experienced opponent)

birthday surprise by @ephemeralkookie |

-  like every year, you prepare a little surprise for your boyfriend’s birthday, one that you’ve been preparing for days. and after a very tiring day, taehyung only wants to spend the night in your loving arms.

jungkook

cookies & cream | s by @1kook | f s 

-  jungkook will watch a thousand cheesy christmas movies if it meant making you happy. (and maybe having his dick sucked.)

unholy night | s by @ephemeralkookie | f s

-  after a christmas day passed with the Jeon’s family, Jungkook decides to transform the holy night into an unholy one.

‘a short’ abstinence | s a by @seokiie | s a

-  maybe blue-balling you boyfriend (who has an insanely high sexual drive) wasn’t the best.

in which she’s done with him by @minstrivia | a

-  jungkook angst/fluff where he always pushes oc away (who confesses her feelings but was cruelly rejected) and insults her but she always comes back to take care of him when he’s drunk or picks him up from his one night stands and she finally decides to leave him alone.

bad influence by @noteguk | s 

-  in which you know jungkook is a bad influence on you, but you can’t avoid falling for him every time.

jock!jk and shy art major!yn by @jiminrings | f

-  established relationship ft. jock!jk and shy art major!y/n, y/n gets an unexpected pep talk and jungkook doubts himself, and either so much tears or so much dUST according to kook

special affair by @1oserjk | f

-  sugar daddy au except it’s just jk spoiling u thru animal crossing

fairy of shampoo by @ironicarmy | f s

-  sundays are for relaxation, house cleaning, and happiness.

abstract ft bob ross by @mimithings97 | f

-  paintbrush in one hand, joint in the other and you sitting on his dick is what jeongguk wants. and what jeongguk wants, jeongguk gets.

badboy!jungkook by @jungshookz | f 

- badboy!jungkook falls for good girl reader ft the boys and the reader’s apple. 

growing by @lesgetittkookie | f

- dad!jungkook teacher his daughter how to walk. super super cute family/domestic fluff.

quiet, baby by @bratkook | s 

- i don’t how to write a summary on smuts so imma just put this. reader and jungkook doing something in the subway.

still want that by @whatifyoulivelikethat | s

-  fucking min yoongi ex-girlfriend? a terrible idea. being hopelessly in love with her at the same time? an even worse idea. knowing he was being used and still doing it anyway? ah, Jeon Jungkook, what are you doing? part 2 of savage love.

desiderium by @jeonggukingdom | f s 

-  “we’ve been at it like rabbits, how are you still so horny?”. a newlyweds!au smut.

chapstick by @softyoongiionly | f s

- based on the time Jungkook said he needed someone to scold him so he’d remember to put lip balm on. or jungkook’s had a really long day and the only that can make it better, is seeing you. 

lover boy by @jingukk | f 

-  jungkook likes you. a lot.

unexpected confession by @sunkissedjk | f

-  you gathered up the courage to confess your feelings, but it seems everyone in school knows about it before you could even find him.

string attached by @ephemeralkookie | s

-  jungkook is what we can call your sexfriend. No strings attached, just you and him having fun and releasing the huge pressure and stress of being idols. But after spending an entire day together, you realize that maybe he’s not just your sexfriend.

no title by @himbojk | f s 

- dilf jk.

astro

eunwoo

ceo!eunwoo by @m0onbean

no title by @yutopiada | f

- a cute idol!reader and eunwoo moment at a music show.

disney by @bangchan-sonyeondan | f

- a cute date with eunwoo at disney. reader likes vintage things hence using a disposable camera.

baby, it’s cold outside by @fresh-outta-jams | f 

- a cute cold christmas fluff with eunwoo ft. the boys. reader went to the boys’ place for a sweater and cocoa gift exchange.

got7

yugyeom

cruel brothers by @imsarabum | f

-  jackson and jaebum have always acted as if they were your big, overprotective brothers. so when they both walk in on you and yugyeom in a very intimate position, things get a little tense!

txt

soobin

a special night by @gyuluster | f

-  an intimate insight on the first night of choi soobin’s wedding, consisting of kitchen floors, witches and an eternity of love.

boughs & branches by @jeogiyall | f 

-  decorating the tree with boyfriend! choi soobin from txt! fluffity fluff fluff with a lot of cute fluff thrown in and a dash of christmastime fluff. 

sleepy binnie by @immabiteyou | s

-  “i’ll let you do anything if you just touch me now. “ a sleepy soobin smut.

cake by @immabiteyou | s

- reading waiting for mc soobin with the guys. a cute fluffy smut moment.

kpop oc/s

seri by @ggukkiedae

anyway, thank you again for the writers please take care and be safe!

please free to recommend your favorite fic that i haven’t feature yet.

if the links won’t work and i labelled some fics wrong please let me know and i’ll try to fix it as soon as possible!

support the fic and the writers!

[hangovercurse]

Nothing

Part i of the Without You series: When Colson and Megan break up, the boys count on Y/N to piece Colson back together, which only leads to disaster.

Colson x Reader

Warnings: Colson being kind of a dick, cursing, a little bit of aggression/ violence. This one’s definitely angsty.

A/N: This was supposed to be just a one part fic. Then that turned into 2 parts. And then 3. And then all of a sudden I had written 5 parts and over 10,000 words. Enjoy 😊 (also this is v unedited so if you see a mistake... mind ya business)

Word Count: 2084

| ii | iii | iv | v | vi |

masterlist

When you got the text from Rook, you knew it was probably gonna be bad. 

Megan just left him, for good. Not gonna be pretty the next few days so maybe don’t come by anytime soon. 

Your heart broke for your best friend. Colson had been really in love with Megan. And as much as you hated seeing them together for your own personal reasons, you could tell he was really happy. 

Ok. Let me know if you guys need me. If it gets bad I can take Casie for a few days. Take care of him for me pls. 

You and Colson had been friends for years now. You knew almost everything about each other, you told him everything. He let you crash at his place after your ex kicked you out, and you had spent many hours curled up with him, watching stupid movies to distract him from his most recent breakup or mental breakdown. 

But this was different. Colson told you he wanted to marry her at some point, and you knew he wasn’t lying. And you couldn’t blame him. As much as you hated no longer being the only women (other than Casie) in his life, you couldn’t dislike Megan. She was just one of those people who everyone loved. 

The thought of texting Colson crossed your mind, but you weren’t sure if it would hurt or help. From the sound of it, he was a wreck.

So, naturally, you texted Pete. 

Have you talked to Cols yet?

With Colson came Pete, or came you, you weren’t really sure. Somewhere along the way you and Pete had become close friends. He was like the older brother you’d never asked for, and he would probably say something similar about you. 

You couldn’t really explain it, Pete could read you like a book. And because of that, he knew everything. He was the only one to catch on to the way you sometimes looked at Colson for too long, or got irritated when he’d bring a new girl around. 

I’m heading over there right now. You should talk to him.

You rolled your eyes.

Not sure that’s the best idea. You guys are better at handling... all that. Once he gets a little less angry then I’ll take him. 

Pete texted you back a few minutes later.

Thanks for the support, kid. I’ll keep you updated. Just pulled in.

Good luck, Petey.

You tossed your phone on your bed, a sigh leaving your lips. You decided worrying was a problem for another day.

No more than 12 hours later you were getting a phone call from Rook. 

“Dude it’s like 4 in the morning, why are you calling me.” 

“Y/N, we’ve tried everything. He’s locked up in his room and every time one of us tries to talk to him he blows up. Literally he almost punched Slim a few hours ago.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, groaning at the predicament. “So now you want me to come over?” You asked, “What do you think I’m gonna be able to do?”

“Well he’s not gonna try and hit you for one. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but he’s significantly nicer to you than to anyone else.”

“What do I even say to him? “Sorry that the love of your life broke up with you but at least we can smoke pot and watch Spongebob?” I mean come on, man. I’m not good at this.”

“Please.” He pleaded, “We’re all out of options and I can’t stand to see him get any worse than he is.”

You moved off your bed and towards your dresser. “Fine, I’ll be there in 15.” 

You threw on the first pair of sweatpants you could find and slipped on shoes, grabbing your key and heading out the door.

True to your word, you pulled up to the house 15 minutes later, parking on the side of the street and heading straight into the house. When the guys saw you, they visibly brightened up. 

“You guys are such fucking wimps.” You rolled your eyes as you made your way towards the stairs. 

Baze chuckled, “We love you Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes and continued on your way, stopping by Casie’s room to see if she was asleep. To your surprise, she wasn’t. 

“Hey sweet girl,” you whispered as you entered her room, “why are you still up?”

She smiled a little when she saw you. “Couldn’t sleep. I’m really worried about Dad.” 

You leaned on her doorframe, sending her a sad smile. “I am too. But he’ll be okay. Your dad’s pretty tough.”

“I know,” she sighed, “but he really liked Megan.”

“Did you?” You ask, trying to gauge her emotions. 

“I mean, I guess so. She was nice to me. Most of his girlfriends aren’t that nice to me.” 

“That’s a pretty shitty way to measure if you like someone or not.” She giggles at that. “Don’t tell your dad I said that word in front of you.”

“Ok. She was nice. And she made him happy so, yeah, I guess I liked her. Not as much as I like you but...” Casie’s voice got higher as she dragged out the last word and you just rolled your eyes with a chuckle. 

Casie had this fantasy of you and Colson getting married one day, but you always told her it would never happen. 

“Ok kiddo, whatever you say.” You teased her, “try and get some sleep, okay?” 

She nodded with a smile. “Are you gonna go talk to Dad?”

“Yeah. I’ll talk to you later, okay? If you need to come over and talk or stay the night or anything just call me, okay?”

“Okay. Love you.” She said quietly. 

“Love you too, Case.”

You shut the door to her room, moving down the hallway to Colson’s door. You took a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare for what was about to happen, and knocked. 

“I told you guys to go the fuck away.” A muffled yet angry voice said from the opposite side of the door.

“It’s me, Cols. Y/N.” You said, hoping he could hear you. 

When you got no response you asked, “Can I come in?” 

A few more seconds of silence followed, and then the lock clicked and the door opened. You stood face-to-face with your best friend. His hair was a mess, falling in his face. The bags under his eyes were darker than ever, and the frown he wore made him look even more pathetic. You felt your heart breaking. 

As you met his eyes, you gave him a sad smile. “Hey Cols.” 

Instead of responding, he wrapped his arms around you, leaning down and resting his head on your shoulder. You reached up and ran your fingers through his hair. 

He started walking backwards, pulling you with him as he continued to hug you. One of his hands pushed the door shut and he sat on his bed, finally letting go of you. 

You looked down at him, grabbing his hand and holding it in your own. It was something you had done before, you two were very touchy people and so half of your friendship was just you two cuddling or play fighting or holding hands.

“So we can do one of three things,” you started, “We can talk about it, we can cuddle and watch something stupid and pretend nothing’s wrong, or we can get high and do something stupid.”

For the first time in what you would imagine to be all night, Colson smiled. it was a very small smile, but you took it. 

He looked up at you through his eyelashes. “And by stupid you mean...”

You rolled your eyes, “I mean we can go set off bottle rockets in the backyard or try to jump off your roof and into the pool.” 

“Oh damn. I was hoping you were gonna say you would suck my dick.” 

Your eyes widened at his bluntness and the implication. You shoved his shoulder, “Colson! That’s gross!” You giggled, but his expression was unwaveringly serious. 

“I’m being serious.” He deadpanned and you furrowed your eyebrows. 

“Colson what the fuck?” Your mind was spinning trying to figure out if he was joking. 

You got your answer when he stood up, grabbing your waist and leaning over you. “I thought you’d want to...” 

You took in a breath at the sudden proximity, trying to back away from him but his grip remaining firmly on your waist. “Colson, stop. Please. This isn’t funny.” 

You could smell the alcohol on his breath and you had to keep reminding yourself of that fact. He’s drunk, and sad, and doesn’t know what he’s saying. 

“I thought you’d want to, cause it’ll make me happy. And you’ll do anything to make me happy.” One of his hands reached up and grabbed your jaw, making sure you couldn’t look away.

“Colson you’re being a fucking weirdo, let me go.” You raised your voice. Your heart was racing at this point and the thoughts flowing around your head were not pretty. 

You were always anxious for the day he’d figure you out. When he’d finally realize how you felt for him. But this was worse than anything you’d thought of. 

“You’ll do anything to make me happy because you love me, right?” 

You felt tears stinging in your eyes, wanting nothing more but to look away from his sinister expression. The way he was looking at you made it very clear that he was enjoying your discomfort, your embarrassment. 

“Colso-” 

He walked forwards, pushing you gently against the wall. His arms went to either side of you, his face inches from yours. You tried to look away, but his hand on your jaw forced you to face him.

Any other time you would have loved for Colson to pin you against his wall, but this was wrong. 

“Just say it. Say you’re in love with me, and I’ll drop it.” 

“Colson, what the fuck are you on right now?” You tried to steer the topic away from you, but he wouldn’t have it. 

“Say it.” 

You reached up to try and push his chest away from you, but he was much taller and stronger than you, so you did nothing. 

“Just tell me!” He yelled at your silence. A tear slipped down your cheek as you trembled under him. His face was red and his eyes were watering. 

 “Why are you doing this?” You whispered. This all felt like a bad dream, like a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. 

“Because I need to know if she was right.” His voice got a little quieter, but he still wouldn’t move away from you. “I need to know if the reason the love of my fucking life just left me is true.”

You were shaking, your breaths getting shorter. “What are you talking about.” Your words were choked. The grip on your jaw started to get a little too tight.

“I defended you!” He yelled, tears falling from his face. “She told me that you were in love with me and I defended you.”

“Colson you’re hurting me.” You whined, trying to wriggle your way out of his grasp. He ignored your statement and continued talking, but his grip loosened slightly.

“And then she told me that she thinks I’m in love with you.” His voice was getting darker. “And that’s why she left. So I want to make it very clear to you.” He paused, leaning closer to your ear. “I will never love you. Ever. Not now, not in a million lifetimes. You mean nothing to me.”

Your vision was blurry from your tears, so you blindly reached out to push him away from you. His body seemed to have given up, as he moved backwards out of your way, stumbling slightly. Through your tears you could make out a smug smile on the man before you ran out of the room, slamming the door behind you.

You ran down the stairs, the guys waiting for you to give them good news, but their hope turned to concern once they saw you. You walked straight past them towards the door, not trusting yourself to say anything without breaking completely.

As you reached for the door handle you heard a faint yell from upstairs, followed by loud banging, and then silence. You sniffled, turning the handle and leaving the house, much to the protest of your friends.

[keyboardink]

“infuriating” [vii]

[i] [ii] [iii] [iv] [v] [vi] [vii]

Kairi hates Loba’s guts, but that doesn’t stop them from flirting (or fucking).

pairing: kairi “valkyrie” imahara x loba andrade / media: apex legends

genre: angst, fluff and SMUT!!, enemies to lovers / word count: 1k / rating: mature / warnings: sexual content, mentions of wounds

a/n: this is the finale, folks! thank you to everyone who has shown support for this story - it means so much to me that you like my work :) hopefully you all enjoy this ending!

Kairi's eyes fluttered open, welcomed by what looked like a centerpiece of stars. It took a moment for her vision to adjust, recognizing the stars as glittering light reflecting off the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Another moment passed as she tried to place the familiarity of the chandelier, along with the plush bed she was resting on.

Oh.

As if on cue, Loba gently opened the door, two cups of tea in hand. Her hair was in a single braid instead of her usual two, and she was dressed in a casual white tank top and leggings. She really can make anything look good, Kairi thought to herself.

"Good morning, little bird," she said with a smile as she sat on the edge of the bed. She placed one cup on the bedside table, then fixed Kairi's messy bedhead, moving hair out of her face. The soft touch left her skin tingling. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm a fast healer, so I should be all right," Kairi responded as she shifted on her elbows, propping herself up to take a sip of tea. She grimaced as she misjudged herself, an aching pain resonating through her waist. It wasn't nearly as bad as it had initially been, now feeling more like a bruise than a bullet wound.

As the blanket fell to her hips, Kairi noticed she was wearing a shirt that wasn't hers. "Wait, did you change my clothes for me?"

"Staying in your pilot suit would be an inefficient and uncomfortable way to rest, would it not?" Loba replied. "But no, I didn't. I was going to, but you babbled something about not wanting to show me your breasts."

"Seriously? Wow, I don't remember that." Kairi let out a small chuckle. "Guess I must be a little bit more busted up than I thought."

Loba laughed quietly with her, then her eyebrows furrowed in concern. "What's the last thing you remember?"

The pilot thought over it for a second, trying to recall any recent memories of her in this bedroom, but the only occurrences coming to mind had happened before the games. "Us winning in the Arena. You saved me, I mean- us, our team. You carried."

"That's all?"

Kairi was silent for a beat, then nodded.

Loba bit down on her lip, her gaze on the floor. Kairi could read the sadness in her eyes.

"Did something else happen?" Kairi asked.

"Oh, it's nothing. I suppose you were just too dazed to remember what you said."

"Other than me being shy over my boobs?" Kairi chuckled at her own joke, trying to lighten the mood, trying to fix whatever had made her upset.

A quiet giggle slipped past Loba's lips, but it wasn't enough to replace the disappointment she felt.

"Seriously, though. What happened?" The pilot put her cup on the bedside table and leaned forward, placing a hand on Loba's thigh. She looked up at the touch, their gazes meeting.

Loba took a deep breath in, stabilizing her emotions before speaking. "You told me I was beautiful, but I could tell you weren't feeling like your usual self."

Kairi's eyes flickered down to her hand on her thigh. She was surprised, although the shock had more to do with why this had such an effect on Loba. She knew how she got when she was drunk or weak, and there wasn't much difference. She should've expected to confess something like that in her post-battle haze.

She had two options: continue the hateful game and make an excuse to brush off the comment like she didn't know what she was saying, or confess the thing that had been on her mind since they met.

Kairi scooted forward, her hand moving from Loba's thigh to her face, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She chose the second option.

"You are beautiful," she whispered, keeping her hand against her cheek. "I don't remember saying it, but I must've meant it, because I think the same thing now."

Loba looked up, searching Kairi's face for any sign of deceit or distaste. Her face was soft and sweet. She reminded Loba of a fireplace, warm and comforting, even in the worst times.

"But what about your dislike for me, hm?" Loba asked, still doubtful of this new version of her.

"Looking back on it," Kairi said, "I can't tell you why I hated you so much. I know it's super sexist, but maybe it's the whole 'bullying you because I have a crush on you' thing."

Loba laughed at that, the tense air in the room disappearing. "Oh, so you are infatuated with me, little bird?" She leaned in slightly, putting her tea on the table, enough to hint what she wanted without forcing it upon the pilot.

"I guess you could say that," Kairi replied, meeting her in the middle. Their lips connected, tasting like tea and longing, a sweet kiss that was long overdue. They weren't drawn to each other by magnetic, hate-fueled tension, but by romantic desire that warmed their cheeks.

They parted just to reconnect again, this time stronger, as if they were starving for each other's touch. Loba wrapped one arm around her, careful to avoid the wound, as her other hand ran through the short, silver hairs at the back of her head. Kairi's hands remained around her cheeks, cupping them, pulling her closer. They fell backwards on the bed, Loba hovering over the pilot.

"I should let you rest," Loba said, pulling away.

"No," Kairi argued, keeping her hands looped around Loba's neck. "I need you like this. Please."

She weighed the idea in her mind, scanning the girl under her for any signs of hesitancy. "Fine, but I'll be gentle with you."

"There's no need to be gentle," Kairi replied as Loba ducked under the covers, kissing her way down to her thighs. Kairi let out a small gasp as Loba's lips softly brushed against her core. "I've been waiting for this for a long time."

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [90]

vi. nakara

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: angst (we're heartbroken, my friends), violence, fighting, death, anxiety.

Summary: with the realization that you have failed to save bellamy in time, you and your friends look for a way off of bardo, trying to get home.

a/n: i’ve felt very unsure on whether i should still post this today, but i talked to a few people who thought it might be nice to have some normalcy after today’s news (if you don’t know what’s going on, please read this post). i want to dedicate this chapter to ria and say thank you for all of the encouragement and support you gave me on sub rosa. I’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner, I thought there would be more time. rest in peace angel. 

please note: there are discussions of death and grief in this chapter. please take care of yourselves.

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

Someone pulls you to your feet, but now that your anger has faded, you feel nothing.

You’re in a daze, Wanlida putting up wall after wall so that your emotions can't reach you and make you lose control again, numbing you to everything around you. Someone pushes your helmet onto your head, and you look up and see Gabriel, his expression unreadable. He wraps an arm around you and guides you through the halls of Bardo as Hope helps Octavia and Echo leads the way. You faintly register the sound of the alarm stopping midway through, and you start to think the alarm was for something unrelated, because everything seems fine. 

Every guard, person, or conductor that you pass is calm and minding their own business. No disciples are running down the halls, no invisible people are popping up on your helmet. Everything is fine. You almost feel regret to see everything so calm, your body craving chaos to help distract you from the thoughts in your head. The walls in your mind are holding strong, but the thoughts on the other side are continuously knocking, continuously yelling, begging to be heard. They want to talk about Bellamy and the anguish you feel, but you want none of it. You don't want to feel the pain of grief heavy on your chest. You don't want to feel the bloodthirsty anger and revenge. You don't want to feel any of it, you just want to escape it.

And as you try to outrun your thoughts and your small group tries to outrun danger, you ultimately end up walking right into it. 

As you round a corner, there’s a person in a guard uniform fighting off three disciples, finishing them off with a knife to the chest. Something about it raises alarms in your head, but you don't really have the energy to think about why. Instead, you follow the others as they pause just down the hall from the guard, who spins around and looks at all of you, sizing you up, before they send their knife flying straight into Hope’s helmet. And as you watch the guard running straight towards all of you, prepared to take you out the way she took out the other disciples, you realize that you know her. The recognition and shock is enough to bring some energy back to you and with your eyes locked right on her, you call out, “Diyoza?”

She pauses, and you pull your helmet off to stare at her. Hope pulls her helmet off, staring at her mother in shock, Diyoza inches from killing her own daughter. “Mom?”

Echo and Gabriel take off their helmets as Diyoza starts to cry, pulling her crying daughter towards her. If you knocked down the walls to let your emotions in, you know you'd feel happiness for Hope, glad that at least one of you will get your happy reunion. But you keep the walls firmly in place and stare blankly at them instead, unable to process your emotions right now. Echo seems to feel the same, because she glances at the reunion briefly before turning to glance back down the hall. “Stone Room's this way.”

Diyoza turns to look at her, glaring a little for interrupting the reunion. Echo barely meets her eyes before tuning to walk away, and Diyoza turns back to look over all of you in confusion. You feel her eyes rest on you longer than it does on the others, taking in your blank expression, before she locks eyes with Octavia. “What's wrong with them?”

Octavia looks over at her friend, her expression sad as she answers the question. “Bellamy's dead.”

Diyoza seems genuinely sorry to hear the news, looking between you and Octavia with sadness before Hope reaches out and grabs Octavia, pulling her closer. Diyoza lifts up a hand and puts it on Octavia’s cheek, a quiet show of comfort, and you feel tears rise to your eyes as you watch, the gesture knocking down all of the walls in your head. Because it reminds you of Bellamy, which reminds you that he’s dead, and never again will you put your hand on his cheek or experience his hand on your own cheek. You let out a little sniffle, trying hard to keep your tears at bay, and Gabriel squeezes your shoulder in comfort. Octavia spins around towards you, pulling her face close to yours and whispering, “We’re almost free, la lune. Can you stay with me until then?”

You look at her with tear stained eyes, because despite your grief, you don't want to be the reason your friends end up captured. You nod at Octavia, promising her and yourself that you’ll keep it together until you escape. She leans forward and presses her forehead to yours and adds, “We’ll get through this, sister.”

You feel a rush of grief, wrapped up in guilt, as you start to consider what Octavia’s been through since you saw her disappear on Sanctum. She was taken from all of you, so soon after starting to reconcile with Bellamy. She watched him die, right in front of her, and you know how helpless she must have felt, because you experienced the same thing when you discovered that Josephine stole your twin’s body right under your nose. She’s been going through all of this alone, for who knows how long, and you haven’t even stopped to check on her. You were so blinded by your own grief, you didn’t even make sure she was okay. 

You pull your foreheads apart to look at her with tears in your eyes, your voice low and broken. “Octavia, I’m so sorry. We tried to get to you sooner, to save you and Bellamy both, but-”

You cut yourself off, unable to finish the rest of your sentence: we were too late. Octavia understands though, and she shakes her head, forcing a small smile to her face through her own hidden turmoil. “Hey, I know you and I know you would’ve done everything you could to get to us sooner. There’s no need to apologize.”

Echo suddenly appears at your side, eavesdropping on your conversation and adding, “There’s no time.”

You and Octavia turn to look at her, both of you nodding, remembering the danger you’re in. As everyone around you pulls their helmets back on, Octavia turns back to you, putting her hand on your cheek. “We’re gonna get out of here, and then we’re gonna talk about it. Okay?”

You nod and whisper back, “Okay.”

The two of you step apart, and your group starts to move again. You don’t bother putting your helmet back on, not wanting to deal with it anymore, but no one fights you on it, allowing you this one thing as you all jog down the hall towards the Stone Room, in search of freedom. Gabriel keeps a hold on you the entire time, and you think he must be remembering your near death drowning on Skyring, or all the times you bolted in an attempt to outrun your feelings, because he seems terrified that you're going to run off and get yourself killed. But you don't. You stay by his side, and even if he let go of you, you still wouldn't run off, your brain too conflicted to decide much of anything at the moment.

You finally creep around the last corner, arriving at your destination. “There it is, that's the Stone Room.”

Echo looks around, her voice low and suspicious. “There's no one here.”

“It's too quiet.”

Diyoza agrees, “Something's not right.”

Wanlida shakes you a little, encouraging you to be on alert as most of your group agrees that you’re in danger, the killer in your mind not wanting you to end up dead. Like your fiance. You shake the thought away and listen to her, perking up a little as you glance towards the Stone Room door. “The Stone is our only way out.” 

“They'd know we were coming here.”

Echo nods and gets into a defensive position. “Good. We'll take right, you'll go left.”

Diyoza steps onto the left side, and Gabriel positions you against the wall, out of the way, just in case, before he stands ready at the door. Octavia is standing nearby, her eyes locked on something in the distance, and you follow her gaze over to a janitor, mopping a floor nearby and shaking his head. Beside you, Gabriel starts to count. “We go on three. 1... 2…”

You watch the janitor with interest, and Octavia does too, before she finally makes a decision and calls out, “Wait.”

Everyone pauses, seconds away from attacking, watching as Octavia moves towards the janitor. Helmets come off as Diyoza reaches out, ready to stop her or defend her, you’re not sure which, but Hope stops her mother first. “It's Levitt, let her go.”

You watch them have a quiet conversation, catching bits and pieces as you do. “...dozen disciples…”

“...to Sanctum?”

“...oxygen farm…” 

You turn away and glance at Gabriel, who stands beside you, watching Octavia and Levitt intensely. When he senses your gaze, he glances over at you, giving you a skeptical look. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong when Octavia comes jogging back towards all of you. “Guys, we run.”

As you turn towards her, you see Levitt in the background, lying on the floor, courtesy of Octavia’s punch. But everyone else seems uninterested in that, because they are already turning away and following Octavia, who is jogging down the hall, away from the Stone Room. You turn and glance at Gabriel again, wondering when the decision to run was made, but he’s still staring at Levitt with skepticism. Echo calls out to you and Gabriel, reminding you of your impending danger, and you both take off running after the rest of the group, following Octavia down to the oxygen farm. “This is it, the oxygen farm.”

As you come to a stop outside the door, a P.A. system overhead announces, “Attention all guards, prisoners last seen on level 12 by the ward.”

None of you even get the chance to exchange a worried look, because the door to the farm slides open, and an older man walks out of the farm and into the hallway as everyone is taking off their helmets. He looks around in fear, clearly about to run off, but Diyoza clamps a hand down on his shoulder and puts a smile on her face. “There's nothing to be scared of. Just tell us how to get outside.”

“To the surface?”

“Yes.”

He shakes his head, the bundle of flowers in his hands shifting as he moves. “You can't, not without rebreathers.”

You look at the man in confusion, “What happens without rebreathers?”

He glances over at you, but gives his answer to Diyoza, clearly still scared of her. “Same thing as happened to the Bardoans. Extinction, only slower, I expect.”

All of you exchange a worried look before looking over at Octavia. She shakes her head, “Levitt wouldn't have told us to do this if it wasn't survivable.”

Octavia has barely finished her sentence when Echo shoves a knife into the back of the man’s neck, killing him. Gabriel looks at her as if she has lost her mind, letting go of you so he can shift closer to her. “What the hell's the matter with you?”

Diyoza answers for her, “Octavia said his name. We still might need Levitt on the inside.”

Echo nods, confirming that’s why she killed the man, though you’re not sure you feel better about it. You avoid looking at him, trying to keep your emotions in check and yourself composed like you promised. Instead, you look over at Echo, who is watching you closely. Despite her anger and her calm intensity, her voice softens when she asks you, “You okay?”

You’re not, but there isn’t time for that right now, so you help Wanlida tuck your overflowing emotions into a new box, shoving them behind the wall in your mind. You look at Echo and nod, and her expression gets stern again before she steps towards the door to the oxygen farm. “On me.”

Gabriel steps in front of her, blocking the door and your path to freedom. “You just heard him, it's too dangerous.”

Echo glares at him. “He wants his answers, that's all he's ever wanted.” 

“No, that's not true. I want to live.”

“Then I suggest stepping aside.”

Diyoza reaches out to grab him and pull him away. “We don't have time for this.”

Gabriel shakes her off, looking between her and Echo. “No, wait-”

Down the hall, he is cut off by the thundering of boots approaching, letting you know that the clock is ticking, and time is nearly up. You glance towards the sound, starting to feel anxious, turning back to look at the group with worry. “They’re coming.” 

Octavia adds, “I trust Levitt, let's go.”

But Gabriel doesn't listen. Instead, he pulls on his helmet and plants himself firmly in the way as the girls in your group look at him with anger and annoyance. You just watch him in confusion, wondering what he saw or knows, his skepticism of Levitt clearly growing stronger with each passing second. 

“Move!”

“Gabriel, open the door.”

Gabriel shakes his head, his voice slightly muffled from beneath the helmet. “I can't let you risk it.”

And before any of you can comprehend his next move, he activates his weapons system and starts to shoot stun rounds at all of you. He starts with Echo, then Diyoza, Hope, and Octavia. He pauses when he points it at you, and you shake your head, not wanting to get stuck in Bardo, the place where your fiance died. “Gabriel, please don’t. I don’t want to stay here.”

His voice sounds genuinely upset when he mutters, “I'm sorry, cielito. I have to keep you safe.”

And then he shoots you too. 

You only feel a slight jolt of electricity and a flash of betrayal, before you fall towards the ground, unconscious before you even hit the floor.

-

next chapter

[n7inky-fanfics]

Lost

CW: Injury, blood, alcohol

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The crew of the Normandy loves Shepard. She is different than any other Commander in the Alliance. She took the time to deeply know every member of her crew. While her name may inspire equal admiration and fear in others, it inspires warmth and loyalty in her crew. Everyone trusts her with their lives, and even on her worst days they never fear her.

That being said, the ship is now uncomfortably quiet and tense. For the first time ever, the crew is walking on eggshells around Shepard. Her own shell has cracked, and to avoid vulnerability she is lashing out at pretty much anyone in her path.

When the shore party returned from Thessia, Shepard maintained silence and a cold demeanour until she had finished her call with the Asari Ambassador. She managed to use the last bit of her usual grace to comfort Liara. Then, she broke. She snapped at Joker and the two of them had it out on the bridge. The argument ended with both parties shaken, but it was clear that they would forgive each other once they had calmed down. The crew had never seen Shepard like this, and it worried them.

It's the end of the main dinner shift, and no one has seen Shepard for hours. James, Garrus, and Kaidan have done their best to reassure the crew. Now, Kaidan is making his way to Shepard's cabin with a dinner plate. He doesn't think she'll eat it, but he has to try. EDI informs him that Shepard's door is currently set to lock out everyone, including him. When he arrives outside the door, he knocks gently. "Hazel, it's me. Please let me in. I just want to help." The red glow of the locked door turns yellow and then green as it is unlocked. It slides open to reveal Shepard's room.

Broken glass and puddles of alcohol cover the floor. The desk chair is upside down in the middle of the floor. A large, bloody dent mars the wall. Shepard sits in the floor, on the right side of her bed, with her head hung low. She's wearing her Alliance t-shirt and a small pair of shorts. Her short, pink hair is a ruffled mess. Her right hand is bloodied and bruised. Pieces of glass from the alcohol bottles stick out of her knees and shins. Despite the strong presence of alcohol, she seems sober. She must have destroyed every bottle she had without drinking a drop.

Kaidan stands in the entrance. "Hazel, you're injured. We should really get you to the med-bay."

"No." Her voice is steady and cold.

"Can I at least get a kit and start getting that hand cleaned up?"

"No. Leave it."

Kaidan sighs deeply. "Fine, but I'm coming further in." She says nothing as he makes his way to the couch, careful to avoid the broken glass. He sits on the couch, hoping she might get off the floor and sit with him. Instead, she remains still. "Shepard, we're worried about you."

"Fuck..." she whispers.

"Hey, it's not your fault. It's Cerberus. You know that."

"Like hell it's not my fault!" She looks up at him, her eyes puffy, red, and furious. Dark energy begins to glow around her. "I should have anticipated this. Fucking Cerberus has their nose in everything. Of course they'd be there, and of course they'd try to use me to lead them to what they wanted. I was a fool and Thessia was lost for nothing! Now, everyone is screwed and we're all going to die because I couldn't get the damn job done!" Her biotics glow brighter, and the field around her swells.

"It's not over yet, Shepard. We'll find them, we'll get the VI back, and we'll end this for good." Kaidan says gently.

"Don't you get it, Kaidan? I failed! The whole galaxy is relying on me to save their asses again, and I failed! I can't do this! I can't save them!" Her voice is raw and strained. She clenches her fists and screams "Fuck!" A wave of dark energy shoots out from her in all directions. Kaidan throws up a barrier, protecting himself from the force of the blast and the bits of glass that flow with it. He can't help but be a little grateful that Cerberus equipped her room with reinforced glass. If they hadn't, the fish tank and model ship display would have exploded. The coffee table, which had flown towards him and bounced off his barrier, settles upside down in front of the bed. Shepard's eyes widen with shock and fear.

"I... I haven't lost control like that since... since I left the Reds... Kaidan, I'm so sorry." Her nose starts to bleed slightly, and tears begin to slide down her cheeks.

Kaidan makes his way to her and pulls her into a tight embrace, leaving just enough room to avoid brushing the glass still embedded in her legs. "It's okay, Hazel. I understand." He holds her close and gently strokes her hair. When she seems to have calmed down some, he pulls back just enough to look at her face while he wipes the tears from her cheeks. She's pale and shaking. Her nose bleed hasn't stopped. She must be exhausted. After all this and the battle on Thessia before, even the best biotic would be. When was the last time she ate?

"Hey, let's get you sitting down." He guides her to sit on the bed and retrieves the food he had brought for her from the couch. "Eat this while I get Dr. Chakwas up here to have a look at you."

"Kaidan, I don't want anyone else to see this." She looks around at the mess she made.

"It's either that or I carry you down to the med-bay. I think you'll collapse if I let you walk it yourself."

She sighs deeply. "Okay, bring her up here."

Kaidan activates the direct link to EDI from Shepard's terminal. "EDI, can you please ask Dr. Chakwas to come up here with the necessary equipment to support an exhausted biotic and remove shards of debris from a person? And please, keep this on a need-to-know basis."

EDI confirms the request and Dr. Chakwas arrives minutes later with a large medical kit in tow. If she's surprised by the state of Shepard's room, she doesn't show it. She follows the mostly cleared path that Kaidan has made with a broom from the supply closet in the bathroom. Shepard is slowly eating the dinner Kaidan brought. "I'm going to get you an IV with fluids and nutrients, then I'll take care of your legs." Dr. Chakwas says.

As Shepard recovers, Kaidan cleans the mess. By the time Dr. Chakwas has gotten all of the glass out of Hazel's leg, the glass has been safely disposed of, the alcohol has been mopped off the floor, and the furniture has been set back where it belongs. "Thank you, Karin. I'm sorry about all this."

"It's my pleasure, Commander. " Dr. Chakwas replies. She places a hand on Shepard's shoulder. "Take care of yourself, now. Remember that I'm here to help. Come see me if you need anything." She packs up her kit and leaves. The room falls silent. Shepard stares into her lap and Kaidan wonders what to say to help her.

Finally, he says "Hey, you should get some sleep." She nods, still looking at her lap. "Goodnight, Shepard." He kisses her forehead gently, then turns to leave.

"Wait..." Her voice comes out barely above a whisper.

"Do you want me to stay?"

"At least until I fall asleep. Please." She's still staring into her lap.

"Okay, Hazel." He says. He climbs into bed and gently guides her to lay next to him. She curls into him and he wraps his arms around her. She drifts off to sleep faster than he had expected. She must be so exhausted. He, too, falls asleep shortly after her.

In the morning, Kaidan awakes to an early alarm and an empty bed. He finds her in the war room, mulling over data for answers. He brings her a coffee before he starts his day. He's sitting in the observation deck, coffee in one hand and data pad in the other, when Dr. Chakwas comes in, locking the door behind herself.

"Kaidan, I'm glad you got me last night. How is she doing this morning?"

"She's back at work, trying to find a solution. She was up well before her alarm, I think. She's stressed, and I doubt she's okay, but she's functional. I'll keep an eye on her, try to make sure she takes care of herself."

"Yes, please do that..." Dr. Chakwas trails off and looks away from Kaidan.

"What is it, Karin?"

"Shepard has always had it rough. You and I both know this to be true. She's always hid her emotions and buried them deep. But dying... it broke her in ways I can't fix. In ways she hasn't recovered from. Then, she lost people. Good people. Hell, she lost Earth. Now she's lost Thessia as well. It's all piling up. She struggles, and I fear that she's reaching a point where all those bottled up pains will all spill out. When she does, we need to be there for her. Please, make sure you're there for her."

She doesn't say it, but Kaidan knows what she's thinking. Be there for her this time. Don't abandon her like you did on Horizon. Be there for her this time. He nods. "I've got her back, Karin."

"Good." Karin nods and takes her leave. Kaidan stares out the window and sighs deeply. This war won't be won without a great cost. He just hopes Shepard doesn't have to pay the bulk of it.

[aspenflower17]

Finding You (Part Two of ??)

Hello again! I'm back with the second installment of my new series, Finding You, which was previously Untitled.  If you want to be tagged when I update this series, just comment below :)

 Part One Link

In this part, we finally get to Satan and what he's been doing during all this. It's not really a happy chapter. You have been warned.

I think it's important to note that I am American. In this part, there is a funeral. Since I don't know much about other cultures or religions way of holding funerals, I just wrote what I know (and that's very little actually. I've only been to two full funerals. I’d be happy to answer any questions you might have). Feel free to change the story up in your head to match your own funerary customs.

As always, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated and help me endure the torture that is typing up this story from my notebook 😒 I also tried to make sure the editing on here was good. Any DM's for typos or things that didn't make sense are appreciated so I can fix them (please be kind though 🙂 ). I did write some of the funeral disjointed on purpose, trying to recreate how I was feeling when I attended the funerals I did.

Tags (for you lovely people <3 ): @obey-me-trashshshshsh, @naimena

F! MC/ Satan

Word count: 3,195

Warnings/triggers: ANGST!, description of funeral, loosing someone dear to you, some violence at the end though nothing too graphic (he is the avatar of wrath after all)

Satan had felt when Mc died. His pact mark had begun to glow and heat up. A terrible rending feeling in his chest, then… Nothing. He couldn’t move, fear completely paralyzing him. No, it couldn’t be…

Then he heard Mammon scream. Then Asmo. Then Levi. Soon, the whole House of Lamentation was filled with wailing. Satan scrambled for his D.D.D, hurriedly dialing Mc. No, no, no, no, no. He had just talked to her. She’d been fine.

“Hi! This is Mc. I can’t get to the phone-”

“No… No, no, no, NO!” Satan screamed, throwing his phone at the wall. Satan sunk to his knees in a sobbing heap.

The brothers never got an answer to what exactly had happened to Mc. Diavolo had confirmed she had passed, but he couldn’t get any details since she hadn’t been sent to the Devildom. He had managed to find out when and where the funeral would be, if they wanted to go. They would only be able to attend the graveside service though, since the viewing was being held in a church. 

Each brother attended the graveside service. Satan stood stoically as the casket was brought out of the hearse. He was wondering if he would be able to get Asmo to charm everyone in attendance so he’d be able to see her face one last time, when he felt his brothers all shifting around uncomfortably. He realized the religious figure he’d tuned out was quoting scripture at the congregation, promises that Mc was now in the hands of God. He decided to tune him out again. Then the casket was being lowered. He had to be physically restrained from going out and pulling her out as the first fistfuls of dirt were being thrown on the casket. How could they do that to her? A voice murmured a reminder that she was gone, and they were just saying goodbye. Well, he needed to say goodbye too. Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea.

Next thing Satan knew, he was at the corner of the grave, a flower he’d had a death grip on since they had started out from the Devildom in his hand. Her favorite. A shiny wood box met his eyes from 6 feet below. Was she really there? He couldn’t feel her presence from his pact mark. Where was she? When was he going to wake up?

The other demon lords watched their brother loose the fight with his emotions. He sobbed, falling on his haunches. Six hands found a part of Satan to touch, tears in their eyes as well.

“It’s time ta let ‘er go,” Mammon’s stuffy voice came from next to him. Satan looked over to find Mammon had removed his sunglasses. His eyes and face were wet.

“I… I don’t think I can,” Satan stated, tears falling freely.

“I know. I know,” Mammon said, pulling his brother in for a hug. Each of the rest of the brothers joined in the hug, pulling the fourth and second born up with them. After a bit, they all let go, moving forward to give Mc their own token and say their last words. When Belphie had finished, Lucifer put his hand on Satan’s shoulder.

“Mc’s waiting for her flower,” Lucifer said, gesturing towards the grave. Satan nodded, and walked forward. He fiddled with the stem for a second, trying to find the words to say, “Mc… Huh, I don’t actually know what to say… I guess, I… I thought I’d find some way to be with you forever. I never thought… I’ve never felt anything like you before Mc, and I don’t think I ever will again… Please… Please, if it’s possible, come back to me. Please,” he uttered as he dropped the flower onto the casket, and walked back to his brothers. He knew everyone was looking at him, confused and curious through their sorrow. They all stayed until the end of the funeral, when Satan turned to Lucifer, “I think it might be time to go.”

“If you’re sure, that would probably be the smartest course of action,” Lucifer nodded, the humans looking questioningly at the demons. The religious man from earlier was actually making his way towards them.

“I’ll visit her later when there aren’t so many people around,” Satan stated as he started walking. The brothers exchanged looks before following him.

The next couple months were quiet at the House of Lamentation. The brothers did the bare minimum required to keep the household going. They were all absent from RAD and Lucifer even took some time off from the endless amount of paperwork he usually did, to grieve. Mc may have been dating Satan, but the rest of the brothers loved her too, and missed her greatly. The only time the brother’s saw Satan was when he was raiding the fridge, finally giving into his stomach pleading for food. He still managed to look somewhat put together, though his eyes were dead and haunted. He had retreated so far into his mind if one of them managed to get him to acknowledge their presence they counted it as a win. He was a shell of himself, and everyone was worried.

Time marches on though, and life slowly returned to normal. One day, Lucifer had gone to RAD and come home with some random paperwork that needed to be done. Another, Asmo was going out to update his wardrobe because his was terribly behind the trends. Each brother found their own way of coping. Beel eventually asked if they could all have family dinner again. They all actually made an appearance, though Satan left once he was done eating.

Though he wasn’t doing well, Satan had been visiting Mc’s grave at least once a week if not more. Lucifer had granted him access to the portal indefinitely, a gesture of kindness that did not go unnoticed. At first he just cried quietly at her grave, not able to produce a coherent sentence. It slowly evolved into him reading her her favorite books or some snatch of poetry that reminded him of her. Eventually he was able to talk freely as he once had. Sometimes it was a mixture of the three. His brothers never saw him cry though. Since Mc had been the only one that seemed to truly understand his feelings, she was the only one allowed to see him cry. Through this self therapy, Satan started to heal. He started sitting in the common room with his brothers in the evening, or snorting at some joke that had been thrown around the table at dinner.

As the years passed, Satan would still visit Mc’s grave, though the frequency dropped. He slowly learned to deal with his sorrow, just like he had with love when he’d first fallen for Mc. It was much harder, his wrath often informing his depression. She became his support again, even if she wasn’t able to respond to help him through his feelings. He always visited on her birthday, bringing her a bouquet of flowers and some small piece of literature, art or playing her some music.

One year, while reading her some Shakespeare, someone came up behind him, “She appreciates it. I know she does.”

Satan stopped reading instantly, whipping around to see a woman who looked quite a lot like Mc, “Excuse me?”

“Coming to see her every year. You have great taste in art by the way,” the woman said, sitting down besides Satan, looking fondly but sadly at the headstone.

“Um, thank you. May I ask who you are?”

“Only if I can ask you the same thing,” the woman responded, smiling at him wryly. The look was so similar to one Mc would give him, he found himself instantly trusting this woman, “I’m S… Stan,” he answered, giving the nickname Mc come up with, when he had asked if he’d ever be able to meet her family. She’d laughed when she'd thought of it, saying she could never introduce him as Satan.

“Stan? I was wondering. She met you when she took that trip out of the country right?”

“Yeah… Did she tell you about me?”

“Oh, you want me to remember that far back? Hmm… I seem to remember her talking about how smart you are, “She chuckled, her eyes far away, “I remember one time, I went in to talk to her and she was furiously reading some book. When I asked what she was reading she told me she couldn’t talk to me right then, needing to catch up to where you were in the story. It was a silly little moment, but she looked so determined… I do know she was in love with you. Though she only really told me about you shortly before she died, I remember the look in her eyes when she talked about you. Telling me about how drawn she was the moment she laid eyes on you. You know what a romantic she was. As her Mother, you can guess how excited I was to meet you, especially after watching her get her heart broken before... You’re exactly her type, you know. Tall, blonde, smart. She was even thinking of introducing you to us. Then it happened.”

Satan didn’t realize the tears were flowing until she looked over and wiped a tear away. She continued, “I was disappointed when I didn’t see anyone that matched your description during the viewing. I don't know what kept you, but I am glad you made it for the casket lowering. I was surprised to see your brothers though, if that's who they were. You all look so different… Anyways, I’m sure she would've loved the intrigue you brought to her service. A handsome stranger, distraught at the thought of life without her. She always did love big, dramatic displays of affection.”

“You remember me from the funeral?”

“Who could forget? It became a topic of conversation in our family once we could all talk about her without crying. Who was that blonde guy? Why wasn’t he at the viewing? Who were the other men he was with? Did she secretly get married while she was out of the country? So many theories, each one more ludicrous then the last. It seems her best friend and I were the only ones to connect the dots as to your identity.”

“Ah. I’m a little embarrassed now,” Satan admitted sheepishly.

“Don’t be. I was extremely bitter after the funeral for a long time. How could my beautiful daughter be taken away from me? Parents were never meant to outlive their kids. I’ve never understood the reason people take photographs at funerals. Most of the time, there’s so much makeup caked onto the body they’re almost unrecognizable. There’s a photo of you from the funeral I actually saved though. You’re looking at the casket with such a look of longing and loss, just waiting for her to come back to you. That photo actually brought me a lot of peace after she was gone. Your look perfectly encapsulated how I felt at the time. It also helped me to know she was able to know that much love before she left. I never want you to feel embarrassed for showing that kind of love to my daughter.”

" She is and always will be the only one for me.”

Mc’s mother laughed, “Oh, you’re still young and quite handsome. You’ll find someone else. In fact, you don’t look like you’ve aged a day from the first time I saw you. You must’ve made some kind of deal with the devil,” she joked.

“Ah. Very funny. Yes. A deal with the devil. Haha.”

Mc's mother looked at him, slightly concerned, "Well, it seems I've made things awkward. I’ll leave you two alone now.”

“Oh, that’s okay. You don’t have to leave on my behalf,” Satan protested.

“It’s alright. I live close by, and I come and visit fairly often. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime. Good night, Stan”

“Good night, and… thank you.”

Mc’s mother smiled at him and walked away.

“Well, Mc, I guess I have your mother’s approval now,” Satan joked, turning back to his Shakespeare.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Remind me why we’re here again,” Satan said, only slightly interested in the antics Mammon was trying to drag him into.

“Tryin’ to get some sucker… er, customer ta part with their Grimm, obviously,” Mammon explained, leaning back in his chair and turning to face Satan and Belphie.

“What does that have to do with us?” Belphie mumbled, eyes more closed than open.

“Well, everythin’! You two are super smart, so I need ya ta…” As Mammon continued talking, Satan wondered, not for the first time, if Mammon actually ever intended to make money with his schemes, or if he had simply found a way to work through his sin without causing too many problems. He had to understand how likely his plans were to fail… Right?

A bump on his shoulder announced Belphie had fallen asleep. Since Mc had helped him work through some of the trauma he had held onto since Lilith’s death, Belphie had gotten comfortable with his brothers again, growing especially close with Satan, their mutual dislike of Lucifer giving them something to bond over. When Mc had died, Satan had found Belphie to be the most supportive of his brothers. Though they'll lost had lost Lilith, Satan had found Belphie the most sympathetic to what he was going through.

“Oi! Listen when I’m talkin’ ta ya! Ya both younger than me, so you shouldn't really show me more respect.”

Belphie lifted his head, and rolled his eyes, “Mammon, do you really want me to do you a favor? How about this? Maybe, don’t explain how you’re going to con people in front of those you want to con.”

Mammon looked around worriedly, finally noticing the glares he was getting, before rounding on Belphie, “I was just explainin’ the plan ta ya and Satan cuz ya both asked again! If ya didn’ wan’ an explanation, ya shouldn’ have asked!”

Belphie was about to retort, when he got a self satisfying smirk, “Oh, dearest big brother, looks like you’ve got your first customer.”

Mammon went pale, turning around slowly to find a demon about as tall as Lucifer staring Mammon down, obviously angry.

Very interested in how Mammon was going to worm his way out of this one, Satan turned to say something to Belphie when he caught sight of a familiar hat. 

“Belphie, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn’t that Luke?”

“Hmm? You mean the chihuahua?... Oh, I think it is. Why do you suppose he’s here? I never heard we were getting any visitor."

"It's a little terrifying just how much you know. You're like Asmo that way."

"It's not my fault everyone just assumes I'm sleeping while they're talking."

"Belphie, you know enough, I think you store information while you're asleep."

"Huh… I'd never thought of that before… Who’s that other angel with him?”

“I don’t know… She kinda looks familiar though, don’t you think?”

Belphie looked over at him, arching an eyebrow, “Do you know any angels younger than Luke?”

“Well, no, but… She just looks so familiar.”

“I guess… Hey, you’re missing Mammon squirm.”

“You watch and enjoy. I’m going to go talk to them,” Satan said, clearly distracted, as he got up out of his seat.

“Where do you think you’re going?” a large body planted itself in front of Satan. The demon was tall, but so was Satan. He was able to look him right in the eyes.

“What’s it to you?”

“You’re with the guy that was going to scam us right?”

“You were actually going to fall for his scheme? Really? Well, the first step to getting the help you need is admitting you have a problem. Now, move. I’ve got places to be.”

“Not so fast Princess. You’re not getting away that easy,” the demon put out his hand and grabbed Satan’s shirt.

Satan looked down at the offending hand, and then at the demon, his horns already starting to sprout, “I’d suggest you unhand me if you want to keep your kneecaps.”

The demon laughed, a cocky smile on his face, “Ya think just cuz you’re an elite ya can take me? What makes you so special huh? Ya just think ya so great, just because ya pretty. Am I right?”

The rest of Satan’s demon form appeared, his eyes glowing, a menacing aura surrounding him, “No. I know I can take you because I’m the Avatar of Wrath. Maybe, if you weren’t such a dunce you’d have noticed that,” and with that Satan grabbed his hand in a bone crushing grip. The demon started yowling, trying to twist out of his grasp. It only made Satan increase the pressure. He leaned in right next to the demon’s ear, “Next time you pick a fight, understand who you’re dealing with first.”

He swept the demon’s legs out from under him, and put him in a wrist lock submission hold. The demon was now yelling for mercy, desperately trying to break Satan’s hold. Satan looked around to see if he could still see Luke, but realized quickly that wasn’t going to be possible. Both of his brother’s were currently dismantling whatever demon had decided to pick a fight with them. The rest of the area had erupted into chaos, most demon’s running away. No one wanted to be around when one of the Avatar’s were fighting, much less three! A couple idiots were trying to get in on their fight though.

Sighing, Satan leaned down again, “Well, well, well. Looks like you’re losing your kneecaps today.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Satan muttered to himself, picking up bits of trash that had been left by the fleeing demons. Because of his involvement in the fight, he had to clean up the entire park. Trying to explain to Lucifer he'd been trying to walk away apparently didn't help when you'd put five demons in the hospital before he'd shown up to stop you.

“Well, Lucifer, if you could’ve just kept your cool, you’d still be prancing around with Simeon and Michael up in the Celestial Realm, making friendship bracelets, painting each other little rocks and braiding each other’s hair as you giggle about how… Huh?” Satan crouched down, noticing a small foot peeking out from a pile of leaves. Moving around to the other side of the pile, he saw it was the small angel that had been with Luke.

Up close, the feeling he'd met her before was even stronger. She looked so familiar, but he knew he’d never seen her before. The youngest angel he’d ever met was Luke. Maybe she was from the foggy memories of Lucifer’s he still had? That was forever ago though. She should've grown up quite a bit by now...

His musings were interrupted as the small angel moving. She winced as she sat up, holding her head, “Wha… What happened? Luke? Where are you?, then noticing Satan, “Oh, hello there. I’m sorry, but could you help me find my big brother?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part Three Link

[four-loose-screws]

FE8 Novelization Translation - Chapter 2, Section 2

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations

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I call this a “section” because it is not a separate part of the chapter in the book, but divided from the rest of the chapter by a scene break.

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Chapter 2 - The Blood of a Warrior (con’t)

Tana dismounted Achaeus in the palace garden and handed his reins to a soldier, then, without showing any signs of exhaustion from their trip, eagerly rushed ahead.

She turned around for a moment, said, "Hurry, Eirika!" and offered her hand. Eirika quickly got off Seth's horse and followed after Tana.

Those in the palace had already been informed that Tana made it home safely. The door was wide open, and in the reception room and on the stairs before them stood a servant and a maid, ready to greet them.

"Welcome home," they said, then bowed their heads.

Eirika was embarrassed by her ragged appearance from the fighting and travel, but Tana had no reservations. She rushed into the throne room, still wearing clothes covered in dirt, and said, "We're home, Father!"

The man on the throne stood up.

He was Hayden, the king of Frelia, known for his wisdom and mild manner. His eyes, full of kindness, slowly widened, and he greeted his daughter with open arms. 

"Oh, Tana, I'm so happy you have made it home safe! When I heard the news that you were kidnapped at Mulan Castle, I thought it would crush my heart."

"I'm sorry for worrying you."

"It's alright now that you are home safe. But you must never, ever leave the palace without my permission ever again."

"I've come bearing good news, Father! Come this way, quickly!"

Her Father's words went in one ear and out the other as she turned around towards Eirika with an excited look on her face. 

Eirika stepped forward quietly and bowed deeply at King Hayden. "It's good to see you again after such a long time, King Hayden."

"Princess Eirika, you're safe as well! I've been worried ever since I heard of Renais's fall."

"Yes, I escaped before the palace was taken. Father stayed behind…"

The moment she said those words, King Hayden's face darkened. Eirika remembered the bad feeling she'd had before. It made her cut off her words and stare straight at the king.

"...We received a report about that as well. My lifelong friend, King Fado…" King Hayden showed hesitation, but he stared straight back at Eirika, and continued speaking. "He was unable to defend the castle, and perished along with it.”

When the king's words reached her ears, she stopped breathing.

It was the news that she’d feared most. The one message she did not want to hear. Every time she concealed her emotions, she told herself everything would be okay. The thought that she would one day reunite with her father and brother supported her, allowing her to fight this far and keep running. And now, she'd lost that one thing supporting her.

The room around her started to blur. The color drained from her face, and her feet became wobbly. If Tana's thin arm, and one other muscular arm hadn't each supported one side of her, she likely would have collapsed where she stood.

The person who supported her other side was Seth. He'd been standing on guard behind the two princesses, and immediately rushed up to her.

Eirika leaned against his arm and managed to stay standing.

She felt like crying, so she clenched her teeth to hold the tears back. Her father surely would have scolded her for bursting into tears or losing her composure...

King Hayden looked at her with eyes full of deep love and compassion. "My country of Frelia will avenge the loss of my dearest friend. We will not tolerate Grado's acts of violence!"

But even the king's powerful words could not comfort her in that moment. 

She opened her mouth, but what she wanted to say got caught in her throat, and nothing came out.

In her place, Seth asked, "King Hayden, do you know anything about Lord Ephraim's whereabouts?"

"I received a report detailing that Prince Ephraim won the battle at the border, then marched into Grado. Within Grado's territory is a Castle named Renvall. He seems to be fighting near it."

"So, Brother… He's safe?”

"I received this information from Frelia's elite pegasus knights. However, it has already been several days since the report. I know it’s frustrating not to know exactly where he is at this moment, but… that is all I can say for sure.”

"King Hayden!" Eirika managed to say.

She pushed herself up out of Seth’s grip and managed to stand on her own, then lifted her head up with determination on her face.

"I will go to Renvall Castle, then. If Brother is struggling all on his own, I must go help him…"

King Hayden's brow furrowed in pity, and he shook his head. "I know how you feel, Princess Eirika. You're feeling impatient and anxious, but still, there's nothing you can do. I want you to leave this to the Frelian Army. We will do everything we can to aid Prince Ephraim."

"Thank you. But I cannot wait around. I want to go out to the battlefield myself." As she spoke, she felt that someone’s eyes were on her, and looked at Seth.

He was sure to disagree with her. He would agree with King Hayden's words, and try to change her mind.

Or so she thought. However, the opposite of her prediction was what actually happened. Seth did not say anything, rather, he looked back at her, and nodded slightly.

King Hayden still did not give up trying to convince her. "I cannot allow it. If anything were to happen to you, I would never be able to face Fado."

"King Hayden, we're twins. From the moment we were born… no, since even before that… we've always been together. When Brother is in trouble, it feels as if I am experiencing the same pain. Please let me go."

"Father, please listen to her! Have the Frelian Army go with her as her guard to Renvall Castle!” Tana backed her up from the sidelines.

Still, King Hayden's tough expression did not crumble. "But… we do not have enough soldiers for such a purpose right now. My son Innes is currently leading the main force of the army, holding back Grado's invasion of Frelia. I have very few soldiers I could send as your guard…"

"Of course, I do not want to trouble Frelia at all. Just a very small force would be fine. Either way, I will go save my brother."

"It seems it doesn't matter what I say. All of my words will fall on deaf ears." King Hayden frowned and looked past Eirika. "Are you here, Vanessa?"

"Yes, Your Majesty." She responded, cool and calm.

Eirika turned around to see a woman wearing white armor. She had refined features, making her a very beautiful knight. 

'She's probably a pegasus knight too…' Eirika thought.

"Moulder."

"You called, Your Highness?"

The next person the king called responded. He was a middle-aged man with a moustache.

Compared to Vanessa standing next to him, he was short, stout, and very plain-looking. However, if one looked into his eyes, they could see a glimpse into his vast intelligence.

"Gilliam."

The last name the king called was that of the knight who'd marched with Eirika from Mulan Castle to where they currently stood. He'd been standing guard near the door to the throne room, but came forward when he heard his name. He bowed with the same rough expression on his face as always.

"This order is for all three of you. Aid Princess Eirika and save Prince Ephraim, who is fighting at Renvall Castle on the Frelian-Grado Border.”

"Yes, Your Majesty." All three of them bowed their heads. 

King Hayden turned his gaze towards Eirika.

"These three are my most trusted retainers. Vanessa is a pegasus knight, Moulder is a priest, and you should already know of Gilliam's bravery. They will no doubt be of great assistance to you. While I may have only a few soldiers left to spare, in return, I will prepare ample funds and supplies for you."

"Thank you."

For Eirika, who was tired from fighting and running, and had just been hit with the news of her father’s passing, King Hayden's consideration for her calmed her heart more than anything else in the world could. She knew it would fill her broken heart with strength.

Her dream of reuniting with her father could now never be achieved. But she would save her brother, without fail, then, they would free their father of his regrets.

They decided to set out in two days. Eirika needed to rest, Seth had to let his wound heal, and they needed to prepare their equipment, so even doing the bare minimum would take time.

Though they were worried, they stuck with their plan, and spent two nights at the royal palace.

☆

"You're finally going to leave, Eirika!" Tana whispered to Eirika the night before she was to leave Frelia, while walking together down a long hallway in the castle.

"It seems like it’s going to be a long trip! I want you to take me with you if you can, but…"

"I'm really happy to hear you say that, but it's impossible. King Hayden won't allow it."

Tana nodded, but looked disheartened. "Yeah, I know… I will stay here and pray for your safety. Please find a way to bring Ephraim back safely."

"Of course!"

"All three of the guards Father left you with are really reliable! Vanessa is especially talented, even among the pegasus knights, and everyone respects her. She’s so serious that she’s a bit stiff and formal, so you might have a hard time getting to know her at first, but she’s really a kind person. Moulder looks laid back, but he's smarter than you could ever believe! He has the heart of a doctor, so he'll surely be a big help to you. And you already know all about Gilliam."

"Yes, I do. And I have Seth and Franz with me as well"

"That's true! So long as they're all with you, you'll be safe.”

Tana finally smiled. However, her expression quickly darkened.

"Still, I wonder why the Grado Empire is doing such terrible things. I've heard that Emperor Vigarde is a wise, benevolent ruler loved by the people, so even now, I cannot believe it."

"...I can't, either."

"And I feel the same way about Prince Lyon! I've never met him, but he's close to you and Ephraim, right? So why…?"

"I don't know, either." Eirika looked down at her feet and sighed.

Ever since the war had started, she'd been worried about that. She'd been friends with Emperor Vigarde's only son, Prince Lyon, since long ago. He was kinder than anyone else he'd ever met, and always been considerate of others. She thought of him as a very precious friend.

She was concerned about what he thought of this war. She couldn't possibly imagine that he supported it. Everything happening surely must be causing his heart to ache. He might even be blaming himself for not being able to stop his father.

She wanted to meet with him to talk to him. He was the only one who could stop the emperor's tyranny.

When she safely saved Ephraim, then she would tell him what she was thinking. If anyone could talk to Lyon and persuade him, it would be Ephraim.

That night, she couldn't sleep even when she laid down in bed. And when she did doze off, she had a dream about her brother and Lyon, which woke her up completely.

Morning came without her ever properly falling asleep, and she and her army all left together to travel towards Grado territory.

[springsummerspring]

Our disposition, personality, and behaviour all have a profound effect on the types of relationships we thrive in. A couple doesn’t need to be identical, but the right balance of traits is necessary for compatibility. This new RP theory focuses on two important characteristics: the dominance level of each person, as well as the woman’s dominance threshold.

Your “Dominance Level” (DL) measures attributes such as your natural tendency to assume the lead and how you exercise authority in interactions. DL takes into account all behaviour, it is not limited to actions within a romantic relationship. For the purposes of this post I will use a scale of 0 - 10 to discuss DL, with 10 representing the maximum possible level of dominance one can have. There are separate male and female scales - a woman who is a 6 is not more dominant than a man who is a 5, and a man who is a 10 is more dominant than a female 10.

How are dominance levels expressed in men?

A 10 has 100% alpha traits, and a 0 has 100% beta traits. As you move across the spectrum, the ratio shifts. So a 2 has 20% alpha traits, a 6 has 60%, etc.

Men who are lowest in dominance (0-3.5 on the DL scale) have the highest ratio of beta traits in comparison to alpha traits. They can be easygoing, empathetic, gentle, and considerate. They can also be sensitive, emotional, unconfident, indecisive, and soft. Keep in mind that these are just a few examples, these traits do not define these men nor are they required to be in this category.

The 3.5s-6s exhibit more alpha traits but their nature is that of a “greater beta”. These men are able to provide comfort and leadership as required in a relationship. Most women have men in this category, especially on RPW. If you are looking for a “medium dominance” category, this is where your man belongs (but to be clear, he is still in the "low dominance" category of this system).

Men who are a 6-8.5 on the DL scale have a higher ratio of alpha traits in comparison to beta traits. There are many types of alpha men: apex, renegade, patriarchal, criminal, corporate, political, etc. and they all have different characteristics that allow them to succeed and take charge in their respective environments. One thing they all have in common is an immense amount of masculinity, which can be both good and bad.

8.5 - 10s can fall into any of the alpha subtypes. They also have the highest amounts of Dark Triad traits, and are the rarest group of men.

How are dominance levels expressed in women?

The alpha/beta ratio does not apply to the female dominance scale. There are no easy, clear cut terms for the spectrum, just various dispositions and behaviours. While the ratio of masculinity and femininity plays a role, the DL is not measuring either of those traits directly. I have chosen both positive and negative examples for each type but again, these are generalisations and only a fraction of the possible characteristics one can have.

Women who are in the low dominance category (0-6) are non confrontational, sensitive, and accommodating. They are psychologically feminine, not only with their men but in their everyday lives, automatically. They can be doormats, passive, weak, and insecure if they do not learn how to prioritise themselves first instead of others. This does not mean that they are incapable of having any of the traits that high dominance women have, just that the concentration of H traits lowers as you approach zero (and vice versa with H women and L traits).

High Dominance Women (6.5-10) are more confident, driven, assertive, and ambitious. They can also be more masculinised, argumentative, self serving, and insubordinate. Some women like to think of themselves as “alpha women” but this is a myth, not an RP concept. Do not fall into the trap of thinking that being high dominance is superior. Both categories have their strengths and weaknesses. Feminists have pushed the idea that male characteristics and virtues are a universal ideal that all should strive for so women are encouraged to be high dominance. The only way that high dominance women can have romantic success with a dominant man is if they can master psychological femininity and deference within their relationship.

Your “Dominance Threshold” indicates how dominant your man has to be in order for you to feel attraction, commitment, and love. I will also be using the 0-10 dominance scale when referring to the dominance threshold. For the purposes of this discussion it is assumed that all women have a range of 0-2 points past their threshold where attraction is possible. The threshold is the minimum but most women who prefer a 5.5/10 would not be comfortable with an 8 or higher.

How are dominance thresholds expressed in women?

Women with low dominance thresholds require less alpha, and more beta in their relationships. This means more affection and softness, more obvious and frequent displays of love and care. These women are repelled by or afraid of extreme displays of male aggression, anger, or arrogance. They also do not like strict boundaries or being controlled. They are suited for betas and greater betas.

Women with high dominance thresholds require more alpha, less beta. They crave arousal, displays of power, raw masculinity, etc. from their man and view the same beta traits the low threshold women love as weaknesses. They are perfect mates for all types of alphas.

When a man’s DL is way too low for a woman, she reacts with disgust or infantilisation. If it is merely a point or two lower you’ll see shit tests. If it’s slightly too high, she’ll comfort test, and when it’s way too high she’ll be afraid. This applies to all women regardless of their threshold or dominance level.

Taking the 4 categories into account (low/high DL, low/high threshold) there are 8 possible relationship combinations. Not all are optimal or RP but all of the dynamics exist in the real world. Moving forward we will use these labels within the subreddit in our discussions and the advice we give.

By using a combination of 3 letters (all of which are either H or L) we can refer to each dynamic with ease. The first letter establishes the man’s dominance level, the second the woman’s, and then the third is for her dominance threshold. So a high dominance man (H) with a low dominance woman (L), who has a high threshold (H), would be described as HLH. A low dominance man (L) with a low dominance woman (L), who has a low dominance threshold (L), would be LLL.

Now onto an overview of the dynamics, which will be described with an emphasis on the effect on the woman. They are ordered from least potential to be RP to most potential to be RP, with 3 equally RP dynamics, there is not one universally ideal dynamic. Please keep in mind that these descriptions are all generalisations of what is most likely to happen, there are always exceptions. Note: future posts will help you identify your dynamic, do not fixate on labeling yourself from this introductory post.

High dominance man, high dominance/low threshold woman (HHL) - she vies for dominance and feels little to no comfort or security. Possible violence as she is likely to stir up trouble by constantly challenging her man.

High man, low/low woman (HLL) - she needs more beta comfort and can’t stay motivated when feeling unloved. She feels he is mean or scary. There is also a strong chance of violence in this relationship which only further discourages the LL woman from being her best and creates a cycle where the man is constantly punishing her.

Low man, high/high woman (LHH) - she walks all over him or bosses around. This is a very common dynamic as it is what usually happens when a woman is out of the CC riding/AF phase and has settled for her beta bucks.

Low man, low/high woman (LLH) - she is repulsed and/or can’t respect him, wishes he was more dominant. Whenever you see an RPW post where the OP asks: “How can I get my main to be the captain” or says “I tried captain/first mate but he’s not taking the lead” then you know it’s an LLH situation.

Low man, high/low woman (LHL) - a lot of feminist relationships are like this, and they can work, and people can be happy in them. There is also a chance that the woman walks all over the man and disrespects him and he just puts up with it. It all depends on how attracted the woman is to her man, and how well he is able to maintain that attraction.

High man, high/high woman (HHH) - potential to be RP if the woman respects the man. “Captain and First Mate” as described by RPW is not an adequate description of the dynamics in HHH relationships. This combination can be a power couple, or there can be violence if the woman does not defer to the man (think Chris Brown and Rihanna).

High man, low/high woman (HLH) - potential to be RPW and a classic fantasy that is not seen as much in reality. The woman is naturally submissive and aware of it. She is drawn to a dominant man and requires power over her. There is a strong sense of ownership and there can also be a paternalistic element to the dynamic. This differs from HHH relationships in that the woman is not a partner in crime, but rather a source of support and feminine energy while the man takes on challenges. At its worst, HLH relationships involve the man taking advantage of and abusing the woman.

Low man, low/low woman (LLL) - this is the most common both in and out of the subreddit. Contrary to what many may assume, most rpw are interested in or already with greater betas! When done right, these relationships are the epitome of the captain and first mate concept. The man leads and the woman occupies the traditional female role, but it may not feel like submission or deferment to her because of the lack of power imposed explicitly. If the man fails to take the lead, the woman may feel forced to assume that role and her respect for her man will decline. If no one assumes the lead, arguments are more likely to happen, and again, the woman will lose respect for the man.

Can you change your dominance level?

You can absolutely eliminate the personality traits that hinder your success. If you are a high dominance woman, you may need to work on being less controlling, argumentative, or disobedient. RPW is great for that! If you are low dominance, you can become more assertive, confident, and more. However, men who want the traditional, RP relationships are not interested in women who do not listen to or respect them, so it’s important not to go too far in the other direction.

Can you change your dominance threshold?

Attraction is non-negotiable. It’s important to be aware of and honest about your preferences and select a partner wisely. Understanding how men think can help you become more comfortable with a man that has a DL way higher than your threshold. If you are with a man who’s DL is below your threshold RPW can help you with respect, loyalty, and all of the other issues that come with those dynamics. Your threshold may change naturally over time based on life experiences, as you learn what you actually like in relationships.

What can we do with this information?

As mentioned earlier, this system will be a great way to have everyone on the same page when it comes to discussing relationships and giving advice. We should all be aware of our biases, and our individual dominance levels and thresholds greatly affect the responses we leave about other people’s relationships.

A lot of women with low dominance thresholds can’t understand masculine, dominant men, and that contributes to them advising women to leave their men in certain instances or worrying that something is abusive. The reverse also applies, women with high dominance thresholds are less able to wrap their heads around how other women can stay with and be attracted to low dominance men.

It is important to be aware of our biases and work to overcome solipsism. It’s not about what we would do in their situation, but what they should do in their situation. Hopefully having the language to identify dynamics will help us all provide suggestions that work well with whatever dynamic a user is involved in.

[maidenof-thesea]

Snakes & Butterflies | Part VI

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: Soulmate Au!, Fluff, Angst, Smut (Maybe, still debating)

Words: 2.9

Warning: minor swearing

Note: Part 6 is finally here!! I just finished last night, and I was debating in what direction I wanted to go with this story and I think I finally found a flow. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged so that you guys can be notified right away when I post. I would do a calendar but life is always hectic even when you try to stick to the schedule. Hope you enjoy and I hope you guys are having an amazing week so far. Lots of love <3

Reminder: * conversations in Korean *

The boys, minus Jungkook, who went out for a run, slept the day away while Rosa and I worked on cleaning the kitchen and living room. It was already well past noon, they must have been really jet lagged. In spite of that, Jin apparently had done a lot more than wash the dishes last night.

“Did you clean?” Rosa asked, her voice thick with confusion.

“No,” I said, shrugging. It wasn’t exactly a lie but I would have to talk to Jin later so that Rosa wouldn’t notice. “Um they should have some laundry if you want to get started on that?”

“No it won’t be enough for a full load,” She replied, rubbing her hair out of her face. “Should I help you set up for tonight?”

“No, that's okay,” I replied, handing her her jacket. “You can go home for today.”

“I feel like I didn’t do much..”

“That’s okay, Rosa,” I said smiling as I walked her to her car. “We have a whole two months to go.”

“Okay then,” she said as she got on to her car. “See you next time!”

I waved and as she pulled out, Jungkook was approaching the house in a slow jog. He waved at Rosa who waved back enthusiastically. She liked Jungkook a lot. And like my mother she referred to him as a bunny, much to his delight. I wait for him to come up to the porch and I hand him a water bottle from a pack we had stored near the front door since we were both too lazy to take it all the way into the house.

“Thanks Noona,” he said, opening the bottle and taking a chug of water. “So you know that cop that lives down the road?”

“Yea, Mr. Chang” I replied as I sat down on the patio chair. “Did you tell him about last night?”

“Yea,” he said as he sat next to me untying his shoes. “I figured since he’s also the head of the neighborhood watch, I should report it to him.”

“What did he say?” I asked already knowing the answer.

“The works,” Jungkook sighs. “‘We’ll keep an eye, but technically no laws were broken and we can’t prove they were stalking us blah blah,’”

“Don’t worry, Kookie,” I said pointing to the camera. “I won’t let any of those crazy beach girls touch you.”

“Noona,” Jungkook said with a slight blush but his tone was also stern. “This isn’t a joke, this is serious.”

“Kookie-”

“He’s right Y/N,” a voice said and as I turned around Taehyung was leaning against the front door. His hair was tied back into a man bun and his face looked freshly washed and dewy. I should ask for his skincare routine. “You could have a stalker.”

“Doubt it,” I said with a small smile. I spent my whole life hiding on the sidelines. I made sure to blend in so that no one noticed me. “I appreciate the concern but trust me no one would want to stalk me, I’m no one. Most likely it was not-”

��Why would you say that?” Taehyung interrupts with a hint of annoyance. “You’re precious to someone, you should value yourself more.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook interjected his tone pleading. “Let’s go eat some breakfast hmm?” He began to push Taehyung inside. He smiled sheepishly at me in apology and they both went in leaving me confused outside. 

You’re precious to someone 

No one has ever said that to me. It was another first. I didn’t know how it made me feel, but I couldn’t help the tears that began to burn in my eyes. I had been crying too much lately. Yuki then made her way outside almost as if she sensed my turmoil and she nudged her way into my lap. 

“I guess you find me precious right baby?” I said smiling, wiping my tears. I began to pet her and she immediately purred and stretched her legs. “That’s already two times someone has called me out on my bull huh?”

“What bull?” Yoongi said joining me on the porch, making me jump in surprise. Yuki then hissed and ran off. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you or your cat.”

“That’s okay,” I said, accepting a cup of coffee that he handed me. “Thank you.”

He sat down and started to drink his coffee. I sat looking down at the coffee, letting it warm up my hands and I couldn’t help but feel a bit touched. From what I can remember Jungkook telling me about him, Yoongi seemed a little rough around the edges but he really was a softball, especially around Hoseok.

“Where’s Hoseok?” I asked, bringing the cup to my lips.

“In the shower,” He replied. “You can call him Hobi, he likes that better, Hoseok feels too serious to him.”

“Oh okay,” I replied and once again it was silent. 

“What bull were you talking about?” He says with a hint of curiosity.

“Oh,” I said, rubbing the back of my head. “Nothing really, just something I’m working out.”

“Oh,” he replied, almost dejected, which made me feel a bit bad. “Well you can always talk to me you know?”

“Oh,” I said once more, feeling a bit touched again. “I didn’t expect you guys to be so caring towards me..”

“Well,” Yoongi said smiling and ruffling my hair. “Must be because you’re cute.”

“Stop,” I pouted and he only laughed and pinched my cheek. Heat spread onto my cheeks and I sat still. For some reason he reminded me of my father, but from what I could remember my father hardly showed any affection towards me. “Yoongi…can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” He said, re positioning himself so that he faced me fully. “What’s up?”

“Before Hos- I mean Hobi-and you met..” I said not meeting his eyes. “Was there ever a time that you may have thought you would never meet? Or did you guys meet each other when you were young?”

“We met when we were young,” Yoongi replied with a small smile. “I struggled a lot with coming to terms with the fact that my soulmate was a man as well, you see my parents weren’t the most supportive in the beginning..”

“Oh,” I said nodding in understanding. A part of me can sympathize with him in that aspect. “How-”

“Did I overcome that?” Yoongi finished for me. “Hobi. He was always patient and he was always there for me even when I wouldn’t accept it at first. It was hard for him too.”

So his Soulmate helped him value himself more.

“Why do you ask?” Yoongi questioned and when I glanced at him, I had his full attention. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Not really,” I replied with a shrug. “Just trying to figure out how to value and love myself more.”

“Self-love is important,” He said nodding. “Self value, however, is more behavioral than emotional. You can ask Joon since he’s more philosophical than me but I know that much..”

“Hyung,” A deep raspy voice said from the porch causing both me and Yoongi to jump in surprise. Jimin stood at the door with the sweater I was wearing last night on. He regarded us with unreadable eyes. “Hobi-hyung is looking for you.”

Yoongi then patted my clasped hands and smiled at me and got up to leave. Jimin stood there for a bit staring at the spot next to me. He took one step and I bolted right up. I grabbed Jungkook’s forgotten shoes and made my way inside, leaving Jimin to stand there alone. For some reason, I felt a sense of shame creep up on me, as if I was caught doing something I wasn’t supposed to be doing.

I placed Jungkook’s shoes in the shoe rack and made my way into the kitchen to wash my now empty cup. Once I was in the kitchen, Jin was already at the stove frying himself an egg and Jungkook and Taehyung were playing Xbox while Namjoon had AirPods on and was reading something on his phone. Yoongi and Hobi were nowhere to be seen, they must be upstairs.

“Oh,” Namjoon said, taking his AirPods off once he noticed me preparing to wash the dishes in the now full sink. “Hey so I had a question.”

“Shoot,” I said with a smile, rolling my sleeves up. From my peripheral I could see that Jimin had now entered the kitchen. 

“So I remember that we choose the option of tourism when booking our stay here, so does that mean we can go to museums and whatnot?”

“Of course,” I said, opening the dishwasher to start placing clean dishes to dry. “What did you have in mind? I was gonna wait till breakfast was over to ask if you guys were up for any-.”

“Excuse me,” Jimin said as he reached for a cup from the cabinet. The cabinet that happened to be on top of the sink. The sink where I was currently washing dishes. My mind went haywire while my body went completely still. Jimin’s chest was only pressed against my back for only a couple of seconds but it felt like eternity. His breath ruffled the top of my hair, his cologne made my mind go fuzzy. And almost in an instant he was pulling away, already opening the fridge. However I didn’t recover as fast as the encounter lasted.

“I know Jin-hyung wants to take pictures at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art but I was wondering if the Crocker Art Museum is worth the drive…” Namjoon rambled on not really noticing my state. 

“Yea,” I agreed with a slight shiver, turning off the faucet and drying off my hands. Once I turned around Jimin was appraising me with a slight smirk, and my breath got caught in my throat. “Nam-Namjoon, we could always go a different day, maybe plan an early drive-”

“Your car isn’t big enough though,” Namjoon said rubbing his head. 

“Namjoon, remember we said we would rent a SUV?” Jin interjected and Namjoon’s eyes widened and he nodded. “I believe Hobi already called the place the airport recommended, we just have to go sign the papers and what not.”

“Oh that saves a lot of time,” I said, rubbing my arms and avoiding Jimin’s eyes, that have yet to leave me. “Do you need me to drive you there Namjoon?”

“Hyung, doesn’t drive yet,” Jimin said. “I could go-”

“Wait!” Taehyung said running into the kitchen. “If Jimin’s going I want to go!”

“Where are we going Noona?” Jungkook asked following Taehyung, who slammed a surprised Jimin into a hug. 

“Um, I’m not going anywhere yet,” I said quickly walking past the sandwich that Jimin and Taehyung were starting to look like. Taehyung must have been a koala in the past life. “I’m gonna get ready, you can drive them there.”

                                      Jungkook

*

“Okay!” I said, smirking at Jimin, who seemed a bit annoyed. “What’s the matter hyung?”

Instead of answering, Jimin took a quick glance at y/n who was now being hugged excitedly by Hobi-hyung. Both me and Taehyung rolled our eyes and started to drag him out and a little whine escaped from Jimin. Once Y/N was out of his sight, Jimin almost looked like he snapped out of a trance. 

“You okay there hyung?” I asked once more while Taehyung ran ahead to Y/N’s Jeep, calling shotgun, almost as if he was giving Jimin space.

“Why do I still feel drawn to her?” Jimin whispered almost as if he could hardly believe it himself. “I could hardly sleep last night…”

“Well I’m sure the hyungs could help us understand more,” I said rubbing his arm. “Namjoon’s family has the archives that could maybe tell us more but we could only do that if you feel comfortable with us knowing.”

“That’s the only way I’m gonna get answers huh?” Jimin said entering the backseat of the car. When he glanced at Taehyung, he continued once he saw that he had headphones on. “Do you think with time, she’ll remember me more?” 

“To be honest, hyung,” I said starting the Jeep. “I find it strange that she can’t remember as well, is that one of the affects of her reje-”

“Okay I got a playlist ready!” Taehyung cheered as he grabbed Y/N’s aux cord. “Let’s go!”

“Let’s go!” I said to Taehyung as I looked at Jimin in the rear view mirror, he seemed to be lost in thought. 

Once we arrived at the car rental place, Jimin went in to pay for the rental, mostly because he spoke more English than Taehyung. Jin’s parents were basically the ones paying for everything, it helps that they own the most luxurious restaurant in Seoul. Too bad Jin wants to be a chef instead of managing the restaurant.

“That card has been there since you came to pick us up that day at the airport,” Taehyung muttered looking at the front window. He was right, there was a card. I hadn’t noticed it before. I reached as best as I could to grab it but before I could graze it with my fingers, Jimin grabbed it.

“Who is Lee Minho?” Jimin muttered with a furrow in his brow. I shrugged and so did Taehyung when Jimin looked at him. “That’s a Korean name…”

“Must be someone Noona knows,” Taehyung said, causing Jimin and I to raise our eyebrows. “What?”

“She’s only two months older than you,” Jimin said with an arched brow. “You don’t have to call her that.”

“Wait, you guys have the same birth month?!” Taehyung said in surprise. “And why can Jungkook call her Noona and not me?”

“Trust me,” Jimin sighed. “I don’t like that he does either.”

“She called Jin-hyung ‘Oppa’ yesterday,” Taehyung muttered, crossing his arms. 

“She did what?!” Both me and Jimin yelled causing Taehyung to flinch. Me more in disgust while Jimin seemed angry.

“Him and his ‘Oppa’ fetish,” Jimin muttered in annoyance, as he walked towards the large black SUV that an employee drove out. “Then these jerks won’t let me be alone with her.”

“We can still hear you hyung,” I said and I laughed as he flipped me off. 

I don’t remember him being this possessive before.

“He reminds me of Hobi,” Taehyung muttered. “They’re so scary, I mean Hobi-hyung has sort of chilled since he claimed Yoongi.”

“Claimed?” I said in confusion. 

“Bro,” Taehyung said, rolling his eyes. “You really didn’t pay attention at all in homeschool huh?”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” I said, starting the car and pulling out once I saw Jimin hop into the SUV. “Jimin has already been rejected.”

“Maybe it’s different because Y/N is human,” Taehyung shrugged. 

“YOU KNEW?!” I yelled and I almost let go of the brake, causing Jimin to honk at us from behind. “Hyung, how did-”

“Did you think we were born yesterday?” Taehyung said smacking me on the head, even though I was driving. Wait-

“‘WE’?!”

“Yes,” Taehyung said nonchalantly. “We’re just waiting for Jimin to open up to us.”

And for once Taehyung rendered me speechless. So all of them knew. Jimin is gonna lose his mind. The only one who doesn’t know is Y/N herself. 

“You know what I don’t understand?” Taehyung said all of a sudden in a serious tone. “Humans don’t possess the ability to reject a Soulmate right? I mean have you ever heard of it before?”

“No I haven’t heard of them evolving that way.” I said, I am somewhat confused by it as well. “There’s been a lot of cases lately, where people’s Marks are being erased.”

“Really?” Taehyung said in surprise. “Huh I wonder…”

“Wouldn’t it be more likely that Neanderthals are rejecting their human Soulmates?” I asked. “I mean do you think Namjoon has heard of more cases from his father?”

“I mean, we can always figure that out later.” Taehyung said, shaking his head. “My concern is for Jimin and Y/N.”

“Right.” I agreed already seeing the cottage in sight.

“We know Jimin thinks Y/N rejected him..” Taehyung drawls.. “But that’s simply impossible, she doesn’t have the ability.”

“What are you saying hyung?”

“I’m saying that your Grandpa is a liar.” Taehyung said, clenching his fists. “I know Jimin, and I don’t think he had the heart to reject her but I can’t help but think-”

“No,” I said clenching the wheel. “Hyung loved her so much.”

“That’s the only thing that makes sense.” Taehyung said with a sigh. We both sat in the car as Jimin hopped off the SUV and started to pet Yuki, who seemed to only have warmed up to him. As he pulled up his sleeves, his broken Mark was like a crack on his skin. Like a reflection of his broken soul. 

“We need to get her to remember.” I said with determination. “She has the answers.”

“I don’t mean to be pessimistic,” Taehyung whispered as he got out of the car. “That doesn’t change that the bond between them is broken.”

“I don’t care,” I said, marching my way up the walkway. “They don’t need the bond to know they belong together.”

“But-”

“Besides,” I said. “I don’t think the bond is entirely broken.”

“What do you mean?” Taehyung whispered as we made it to the front door. Jimin and Y/N were both sitting on the couch with Yuki laying across both their laps. “His Mark-”

“It’s like you said,” I whispered. “Jimin is acting possessive because he hasn’t claimed her. He’s not just being jealous and she may not remember him but her body does which is why-”

“What are you guys whispering about?” Jimin asked in English, his face slightly pink. 

“Yea,” Y/N said, her face matching Jimin’s. “You guys have been awfully quiet, it’s quite suspicious…”

“It’s nothing Noona,” Taehyung said with his box smile and a wink, causing Y/N to splutter.

“YAH KIM TAEHYUNG!” Jimin yelled in Korean as he chased him around the house. “DON’T CALL HER THAT!”

*

“Is he gonna kill Taehyung?” Y/N said slightly worried.

“Maybe.” And just then we hear a picture frame fall from somewhere in the house.

“Shit.” 

Yep shit is right Noona.

Prev / Next 

Masterlist 

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Remnants, Part VIII

Hang in there, friends. It’s not over yet! If you’ve got questions, shoot me an ask and I’ll answer if it won’t spoil the plot : )

Part I,  Part II,  Part III,  Part IV,  Part V,  Part VI,  Part VII

Summary: You are in the midst of formulating your dissertation, but you’ve hit a wall. Your doting aunt, Rebecca, has a solution that brings you face to face with Ahkmenrah, Fourth King of the Fourth King. As the connection between you and Ahkmenrah grows, and as the secrets of his ancient tablet unlock, the once-king will find himself faced with a difficult choice.

    Thanks so much to @kitkatcronch  @kpopperotp12  @seafrost-fangirl  @sassystrawberryk  @perfect-rami  @txmel  and  @limabein for reading : ) If anyone else wants added to the taglist, let me know. I’ve greatly appreciated the feedback!

    Warnings: Character death (sort-of, of course) but it is somewhat graphic.

Your hasty exit did not go unnoticed.

 “Oh, Y/N. What happened with Ahkmenrah?” your aunt asked as she sat next to you on the stairs, her voice filled with concern.  

 You swiped at your cheeks and your nose in an attempt to pull yourself together before you looked at Rebecca. You felt ashamed for leaving her out of all of this and ashamed for crying on the steps of the American Natural History Museum in New York City.

 “I don’t even know where to start,” you said in a hushed, miserable voice.

 Rebecca’s phone lit up and she glanced down.

 “Larry’s with Ahk. He figured, when he saw you run out, he should go check on him.”

 “Good. That’s good,” you mumbled, trying to swallow the next wave of tears.  

 “I feel so horrible, Y/N. This is all my fault!”

 “What?” you asked, dumbfounded.

 “I knew the two of you were close, but I thought it was a good thing. Ahkmenrah isn’t just a wax figure—he’s human. He needed,” Rebecca paused, narrowing her eyes and pursuing her lips as she thought of how to articulate herself. “He needed a purpose. And when Ahk started working on deciphering his tablet, I figured that you helped give him that purpose, just by being his friend, someone he could relate to.”

 “You couldn’t have known, Aunt Becca.”

 “But I should have. I mean, look at him. Listen to him. He’s the embodiment of everything you’ve ever loved,” Rebecca explained. “It’s no wonder the two of you fell for each other. I essentially set the stage for a low-budget, kinda weird Rom-Com.”

 You huffed, a tiny ghost of a laugh, as Rebecca ran her hand through her hair, clearly feeling guilty.

 “You have nothing to feel guilty about. Ahkmenrah and I both knew what we were doing. We talked about it. We ignored logic and embraced the chaotic unknown. I’d say it works out for the characters in about 80% of those Rom-Coms, right?”

 “I don’t know if I’ve seen one with this level of a twist in the plot, though.”

 “Mmm, maybe a new plot for a Twilight reboot? Forbidden, half-alive boyfriend, stupid girl who makes stupid decisions and feels like death when boyfriend breaks up with her—well, hell. I guess it already is Twilight.”

 “Please don’t tell me you’re pregnant,” Rebecca said, joking, but seriousness did hang on the edge of her tone.

 “I’m not that stupid. I hold birth control as a central part of my belief system.”

 “I would hope so, PhD candidate,” Rebecca said, scooting close to you and wrapping her arm around your waist.

 You laid your head on her shoulder, her company helping you to feel composed enough to at least get yourself back to your apartment.

 “So, what did Ahk say tonight?”

 You took a deep breath and summed up what had happened during and after Ryan’s unexpected visit.

 Rebecca was quiet for a while; you didn’t need to her to say it because you already knew.

 “He’s right,” you said.

 “He is right about one thing,” Rebecca began. “You can move forward. You can, eventually, forget about him and live the life of your choosing.”

 “But I don’t want to,” you said, feeling hopeless.

 “Only time can fix that, sweetheart,” Rebecca replied with a sigh as she kissed the top of your head.

 “Did Larry say anything else?”

 Rebecca picked up her phone, but there were no new messages.

 “Ahkmenrah and I have something that we were working on and need to finish, so I’ll be back tomorrow night. I hope,” you stopped, not wanting to divulge what you considered to be Ahk’s secret about the tablet. “I hope it will bring us back to where we were; I can bury my feelings. I can be just his friend. Friends do love each other, after all . . .”

 You trailed off as your eyes searched your Aunt’s, desperately hoping to see the spark of agreeance within them. Instead, all you saw was sadness, maybe even pity.

 You stood up, fixing your clothes and adjusting your purse.

 “Let me take you home,” Rebecca said.

 You shook your head.

 “I need to walk. Need to clear my mind. I’ll be fine—you know everywhere between here and the village is safe.”

 Rebecca sighed, “Stay alert. Don’t get lost in your head, and text me when you get inside your apartment.”

 You hugged Rebecca and she squeezed you back, reluctant to let you go.

 “Thank you, Aunt Rebecca. For everything.”

 Rebecca gave you a loving smile and watched as you crossed the street to enter the subway. When you glanced back up, she gave you a wave before she turned and headed back into the museum.

 * * * * *

Maybe you were delusional, but you really thought when you and Ahk returned to see his death that he would change his mind—after all, this was the kind of experience that could really bring two people together, the kind of experience that could really make someone realize just how important it is to choose happiness over everything else. At least you thought so, given there really was no precedent for hopping through a doorway into a 4,000-year-old reanimated pharaoh’s memories.

 Once you latched the deadbolt, you sent Rebecca a quick text. She responded immediately, stating that she was happy you were home safe. You thought about asking her how Ahk was, but as you looked around your apartment, the memory from the night you brought him here assaulted you.

 You saw him, standing in your living room, dripping and shivering.

 You saw the heat in his eyes as you touched him, and you reached up to touch your lips as you remembered the passion of your first, real kiss.

 When you walked into your bedroom to change into an oversized t-shirt, you gazed out of the window, watching the flickering lights of the city, listening to the noise of the streets that siphoned into your room, filtered and muffled through the glass.

 When you climbed into bed, you could almost feel Ahkmenrah’s body on top of yours, almost see the intensity he delivered with his eyes as he slid into your body. Everything, well, almost everything about that night had been perfect, and you thought that it was that night, there in the underground café when Ahk had kissed you because you promised to teach him to read, it was then that you fell in love with him.

 The tears came slowly this time, sliding stealthily out of the corners of your eyes as you continued to watch the reflection of lights glittering in the window panes.

 The only thing keeping you from sinking into an actual pit of despair was that you were going to see him again. Ahkmenrah was trusting you with his one last secret, and you were going to prove your love by being selfless, by providing him with support as a friend. He would see, afterward, how much he meant to you, that you really would do anything he asked of you.

 * * * * *

Ahk is dressed in his full wardrobe, his golden breast plate that he rarely wore was glittering in the soft lights of his exhibit, and his face was nearly unreadable; the only emotion that seemed to be swirling beneath his regal expression was apprehension.

 For the first time, Ahkmenrah did not greet you with a smile, and you felt a little piece of your heart break. But being in denial had its perks; you told yourself it was simply because he was about to witness his own death. Anyone would be stingy with their smiles in a circumstance like that.

 “Are you ready?” Ahkmenrah asked solemnly.

 “Yes. Are you?”

 Ahkmenrah gave a firm nod. He removed his tablet from the wall and rearranged the hieroglyphs. Ahkmenrah spoke, the door opened, and the two of you walked in, knowing death was waiting on the other side.

 * * * * *

Of course Kahmunrah chose to murder his brother during the Festival of Min, one of the Egyptians most robust celebrations to praise the god for his fertile blessings that allowed their crops to have flourished. The swath of grain that Ahkmenrah, as pharaoh, had cut to start the celebration is laid on top of a small pedestal in the center of his table. Everyone is giddy, feeling secure in the future of their great nation and in their young, virile king.

 Kahmunrah sits to Ahkmenrah’s right, clearly secure in his position as not only prince, but as the vizier to his little brother.

 You turn to Ahk and question why Kahmunrah held such a high position.

 “Despite his shortcomings, he was my brother. I trusted him. I loved him. And at no time during my reign did I ever feel threatened by him. He made the perfect royal advisor; we disagreed, at times, about foreigners and war, but he always acquiesced to my decisions. I appreciated his passion for our land. He hid his—”

 “He hid his crazy really fucking well,” you interrupted.

 “Yes. He truly did. And I only know that now after revisiting so many of my memories and entering his thoughts. Something inside of him snapped the day my father made me king.”

 You return your eyes to the celebration.

 By this time, Ahk’s marriage to Sitmut is arranged. It is strange to watch Ahk with his future bride; when they greet one another, he cups her face and looks at her lovingly before kissing her forehead. The love that flows between them is palpable, but it feels familial. No wonder the pharaohs kept harems or elected to have a secondary wife; as important as the propagation of the family line was, incest merely served as a means to an end.

 As you watch the festivities, you can see memory-Ahk, flirting with pretty girls, drinking, laughing, and it is clear he is at the very height of his power. Sitmut stays amongst her female companions, and you can’t help but notice she pays a lot of attention to one very beautiful girl. As they sit, drinking wine and eating sweets, their thighs press together on the stairs, while their glances linger just a little too long.

 Your heart aches for Sitmut, trapped into a marriage and a false lifestyle, all in the name of duty.

 Ahkmenrah’s memory becomes a little hazy as he consumes more and more wine, but the celebration shows no sign of ending. In fact, while Ahk’s vision blurs, his hearing amplifies, the music and carousing grow into a crescendo that blocks out almost any other sound.

 And this is when you see Kahmunrah conferring with four, very large, very muscular priests behind the feasting table, their little party just hidden in the shadows of a large column.

 Ahkmenrah’s parents are lying, lazily together on a set of stairs, alternating between watching the party and exchanging soft kisses. They are completely enveloped in a shroud of bliss, their sense of security evidenced by the fact that not many guards are stationed throughout the celebration.

 A young man covered in enough jewels to denote his importance approaches King Ahkmenrah. He leans in, intently conveying a message.

 Ahk’s brow furrows and without hesitation, he exits the room while the young man goes back to the party, quickly getting lost in the mass of people drinking, dancing, and laughing.

 Ahkmenrah’s guards, six of them in total, follow the young king.

 Kahmunrah’s priests slink out of the shadows and head in the same direction.

 A low grown of terror escapes your throat, making the impending horror of what happens next all the more real.

 You and the real Ahkmenrah rush after the priests, running to catch up with them. You can’t hear anything other than the din of the party, and Ahk’s head swivels from left to right as he strains to listen, his brows furrowed as he strains to remember.

 And then you hear it. The sound of something gurgling, the sound of a body falling, followed by another thump and another and another.

 “This way!” you say quickly as you take off into the hall on the right.

 The hall ends in a garden similar to the one that Ahkmenrah had shown you on your first visit to his memory. Even though it is night, the courtyard is well lit, torches blazing along the interior walls and atop lamps that line the garden’s many pathways.

 As you get nearer, you slip, Ahkmenrah catching you before you fall onto a stone that is covered in thick puddles of blood.

 You gasp and raise your hands to your mouth in horror. All of Ahkmenrah’s guards are slain, their throats slit so wide that the blood was forming little rivers in the cracks of the stones.

 The priests must have been practiced in the art of killing silently and quickly because it is clear they took out Ahk’s guards, two by two, until the final two turned to see why there were no footsteps behind them.

 Kahmunrah chose his assassins well.

 By the time you reach the center of the garden, the four priests, covered in blood have memory-Ahkmenrah, facedown. They hold him in place by kneeling on his wrists and ankles, and one priest reaches over to shove Ahk’s face into the sandy dirt of the garden while the other three work to strip him of all signs of royalty: his crown, his collar, his belt, and even his shoes, leaving him only in his short, thin, linen skirt.

 Ahk’s teeth are bared, the veins along his neck and in his arms bulge with his efforts to escape.

 Sliding between you and the real Ahkmenrah, Kahmun enters the garden. As he speaks, Ahk begins translating, causing you to jump because you had been so intently watching the scene in front of you.

 “Little brother.”

 Memory-Ahk freezes as he hears Kahmunrah’s voice.

 “Kah! Help me!”

 “Turn him over,” Kahmun commands in a cold voice.

 The priests quickly flip Ahk, settling again on his wrists and his ankles. Now you can see his dirt-smeared face as it thrashes from side to side, his eyes wide and panicked, and his hands and feet purpling from the pressure of the priests holding him in place.  

 In that moment, it occurs to you how like Jesus Ahkmenrah looks, his feet and wrists pinned, his forehead bleeding, either from rocks in the dirt or from the ferocity with which his crown was removed. His dark skin and his curls are covered in dirt and sand, and Ahk’s skin is smeared in patches from the blood that transferred from the priests’ murderous hands.

 “Kahmunrah, please,” Ahk says slowly as he sees the now unhidden crazed look in his older brother’s eyes.

 Kahmunrah says nothing and only watches his baby brother struggle against the muscular priests, their muscles flexing as they increase their hold on the young king.

 “Why?” Ahkmenrah whispers, as the reality of what’s to happen sinks in. “I gave you everything.”

 Kah barks out a laugh, a high-pitched, terrible noise that hangs on the edges of the night, echoing in your ears.

 “Gave? GAVE?! You STOLE what was mine! Our foolish parents who favored you, loved their precious baby Ahkmenrah more than Egypt itself, made a grave, grave error. But, no worries. They will pay for that error tonight, as well. But know that you die first, little brother, so I can show them your body. So I can listen to the sound of mother’s heart breaking. So I can watch the light, the joy finally go out of father’s eyes.”

 Despite Ahkmenrah’s best attempt to remain composed in the face of death, his eyes fill with tears as Kahmunrah describes his planned horrors.

 “Just kill me, Kah. Let Apep claim me but please do not hurt our parents.”

 “Things will go according to my plans now, Ahkmen. You’ll die, here, in the dirt, like the worthless, second son you SHOULD have been.”

 Kah drops down and settles across Ahk’s hips. He counts up Ahkmenrah’s ribs, looking for a particular spot.

 Without another word, Kahmun sinks the knife into Ahkmenrah’s heart and twists his wrist, ensuring his brother’s death. Kahmunrah pulls the knife out, stands, and puts it back in his belt, not even bothering to wipe his brother’s blood from the blade.

 Ahkmenrah, Fourth King of the Fourth King, dies like he ruled, a good king who cared more about others than himself. Instead of begging for his own life to be spared, he pleaded for the lives of the people he loved the most.

 Memory-Ahk gasps as the knife is pulled from his heart, his eyes bulging as his body dies. The priests stand, and Ahkmenrah’s limbs only twitch in the dirt as the blood escapes out of his chest. He quickly loses consciousness and his eyes lose their light as his last breath struggles out of him, the blood from his heart soaking into the dirt beneath him.

 You know, that for the rest of your life, you will never forget the image of life leaving Ahkmenrah’s eyes.

 At the instant the blade sinks into memory-Ahkmenrah’s chest, real Ahk’s hand flies to his heart and his knees buckle. You reach out, catching him and guiding him to his knees as he watches the blood flow out of the gaping hole in his memory’s chest.

 And as the blood ebbs into the dirt, the memory itself begins to fade, greying around the edges and the commands of Kahmunrah are silent, even though you can see his lips moving. Ahkmenrah is frozen on his knees, his eyes trained on his lifeless body.

 “Ahk! We have to go!”

 He doesn’t respond.

 Fuck, fuck, fuck, you mutter under your breath as the scene continues to darken; the memory is now like a tunnel and only Ahkmenrah’s lifeless body serves as the single pinpoint of light left. The darkness is coming and coming fast.

 You yank the tablet out of your backpack and hope to the gods that it will listen to you.

 You scramble the tiles into the same order as the ones that are marked “Return” in Ahk’s notebook, and you speak the words you had heard Ahk speak to end your other adventures within his memory.

 Sure enough, the door appears.

 You grab Ahkmenrah under his arms and haul him toward the door.

 He shakes you off, his movements damn near feral.

 “No! My parents! I have to save them! I have to warn them! I can change it—I know I can!” Ahk says, pulling at the sides of his cape and twisting his hands, panicking.

 “Ahk, it’s done and you can’t change the past because this is your memory. They’re gone, and we have to go, now!”

 “No,” he says, looking wildly about at the increasing darkness. “No, no, no, no,” he chants, hysterically in ancient Egyptian.

 You eye him carefully and know you only have one shot. You position yourself between him and the door, and in a swift movement, you pivot to the other side of Ahk and push him as hard as you can, jumping after him as the door begins to recede.

 * * * * *

You both landed in a sprawling heap on the museum floor. Ahkmenrah’s crown skittered across the stone, his Wesekh’s clasp shattered and beads pooled under him. He’d also lost his sandals and they were nowhere to be seen. You must have tackled him right the fuck out of his shoes.

 You were breathing heavily, and the remnants of tears glistened on your face. Ahk’s eyes connected with yours as he began to gasp for breath, his lungs clutching for air.

 You scrambled over to him, grasping his shoulders and sitting him upright. You reached to unhook the pins that held his armor in place, pulling it off of him, letting it clang to the floor.

 “Come on, Ahk, just breath, in through your nose, out through your mouth, in through your nose, out through your mouth. Concentrate on my words, come on. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

 You repeated the mantra until Ahk was breathing normally enough. He reached up and held his hand over his heart, and you followed, threading your fingers with his.

 “He can’t touch you now, Ahkmenrah. It’s done. You’re safe.”

 “You’re safe,” you repeated as you pulled him into your arms, stroking his hair as he began to cry, clutching onto your arms as his tears soaked through your shirt.

 You had no idea how long you sat there with your pharaoh in your arms, clinging to you like a drowning man, but you held him and rocked him, saying nothing other than a quiet whispering of, “It’s okay, Ahk. You’re safe now.”

 Ahkmenrah took a deep, shaky breath and slowly pulled away. You lifted his head and swiped at the wetness covering his face. You kissed his eyelids, tasting the salt from his tears, and placed a soft kiss on his forehead.

 “I could never have done this without you, Y/N. Thank you.”

 “I owed you, remember? And I would do anything for you, Ahkmenrah. Anything.”

 “Truly?”

 “Truly,” you said with a small smile, hope quickening the beating of your heart.

 Ahkmenrah stood, gathering strength before he spoke with authority.

 “Go. Go now and do not return.”

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t this. You shot to your feet and clutched at his shoulders, holding on to him, the role of the drowning man now reversed.

 “No, Ahkmenrah! I meant what I said. I’m in love with you. I can’t just leave knowing that you’re here, right here,” you said, placing your palm in the middle of his chest.

 Ahkmenrah took your hand and lifted it to kiss your palm.

 “Finish your dissertation. Go to Cairo—it’s where you belong.”

 “I could have you transferred there! There’s a huge movement in the community to restore artifacts to their home territories and—”

 Ahkmenrah looked at you with such sadness it stopped you in the middle of your plea.

 “Y/N, that is what I am now. An artifact, a remnant of the past.”

 “You’re real! You’re fucking real,” you said, your voice breaking as you pushed his chest hard enough to cause him to step back. “You said you fell in love with me only after I saw you as a real person, not as some historical thing,” you finished, gesticulating wildly.

 “I never said I was in love with you, Y/N. I am a reanimated mummy, an artifact. This is all that I choose to be.”

 Every ounce of fight that had been coursing through your body came to such an abrupt halt that you swooned backward, and Ahkmenrah reached out to steady you, his hands firmly grasping your upper arms.

 He was right. Never once did Ahkmenrah say those words. It was you—you who had said them, and you who had believed he felt the same way.

 You shook your head, refusing to believe that he was choosing to see himself like this, as what you had fought to reconcile with from the beginning, as what you could no longer even remotely see him as now. Ahkmenrah was choosing to become an exhibit at the museum, choosing to become nothing more than a wax figure.

 And just as suddenly as the fight had gone out of you, a realization struck you. Ahkmenrah never had a chance to choose; he didn’t choose to become king; he didn’t choose to be brutally murdered by his brother; he didn’t choose to be wed to Sitmut; he didn’t choose to become the master of the tablet; he didn’t choose to come back to life.

 But he could choose now—and he was choosing to let you go, to let you live a full life. He was choosing to stay safe, to be under the guardianship and protection of the museum that he now thought of as his home.

 “You understand,” Ahkmenrah said, a spark of his normal self showing through his pain.

“I do,” you said, holding his gaze, your body damn near lifeless as he still held onto your upper arms.

 “Goodbye, Y/N. Thank you for everything you have given me, and I hope that one day, you will accept this as the right choice.”

 Your eyes filled with tears for the umpteenth time in the last 48 hours, and you kissed Ahkmenrah; you kissed him with every ounce of love that you felt for him; you poured everything you had into that kiss.

 You only stopped kissing him when you couldn’t breathe anymore, and after your lips pulled slowly away, he rested his forehead against yours.

 You slid further into his arms, one last time, and he squeezed you back before pushing you away.

 “Please. Go,” Ahkmenrah said with a steady voice.

 You couldn’t look at him again because you knew if you did, you’d climb into his sarcophagus and only the Anubis statues would be able to remove you, probably by using their spears to turn you into a large piece of Shish Kabob.

 For the second night in a row, you sobbed on the front steps of the American Museum of Natural History in New York City.

 But this night was the last.

 * * * * *

“You did the right thing, Ahk,” Larry spoke up as he stepped out from behind the back wall of the exhibit.

 “I love her, Larry. I had to let her go.”

 “I know, Ahk. I know.”

[judgement-free-sideblog]

The enemy of love is the truth

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x reader

Summary: They were happy just as friends, but one morning the call from an old trauma may change everything.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, history of drug use, mental health issues, cursing, angst, a little smut, violence.

I want to apologize in advance, I did my fare share of smut between 2008 and 2011, jesus we called them lemons back then (I'm so old, sorry) but in my native language. And even if I wasn't out of practice translating that kind of scenes is a complete nightmare, so I'm so sorry for what you are going to read.

■Part I  ■ Part II ■Part III ■ Part IV ■ Part V ■ Part VI ■ Part VII ■ Part VIII | Final ■

Part VI

"She invited you to ex's wedding?" Charlie said squatting out of breath, it was almost 8:00 am and they had been running since 7:00. "Don't you think it will be a bit inappropriate? I mean what if she still have feelings for that guy? God I need to lie down"

"Technically I invited myself..." Tom started also taking big breaths "Oh don't look at me like that, she they broke up long time ago, and even if she is not over him she would need support there, isn't that right Bobby??" He knelt to pet his dog, who looked at them puzzled by how tired they seemed to be.

"So, when is the big day?" He said finally standing up.

"Saturday, but apparently we are going to a small diner on friday night, the whole event is in a Hotel in West Yorkshire, and I don't feel like driving four hours in the same day"

"If I don't know you better I would say you're a brilliant bastard" he said choking out a laugh.

"Why?"

"Nice romantic hotel in the country, the emotional vulnerability of seeing your ex getting married, the comfort of the nice blue eyes of a loving friend" he said making and exaggerate gesture to Tom's face "But is you so ai assume you won't even share a room platonically"

"You are completely out of your mind" he said laughing "although it is a nice place, look" He showed him the electronic invitation where both bride and groom smiled to each other in front of the hotel.

"Is that the guy? Well she certainly had a type" he said studying the picture "I mean if he were older or a bit more fit he would look just like you" Tom look at the picture again not finding the resemblance "I'll tell you something if you guys finally do hook up could you wait until March to tell people? I said 3 years and 1 month and Zawe said 3 years exactly and I don't feel like letting her win."

"Do you really have a betting pool about us? Don't worry, I wouldn't tell you anything even of something happens" he said with a chuckle and they continued their run.

On friday at 3:00 p.m. he showed up at Y/N's place, with Charlie's words still resonating in his head, he found her in a beautiful burgundy off shoulder column cocktail dress and black heels, making this the third time he ever saw her in a dress, it was a big difference from the usual sneakers and hoodies, not a bad one but he couldn't help a bit of jealousy thinking this was for someone else.

"Stop staring at me, I know it's ridiculous and I'm gonna break my bloody neck with this things" She said showing him the fragile tip of one of the heels, he smiled founding his friend true nature even in that situation. "Stupid dress codes, is it too late to stay home? I have a rosé in the fridge wwith your name on it if you let me..."

"And losing the opportunity of seeing you roll your eyes at every old men comments on the country's economy?" He said putting her back inside the car and immediately after offering her hand to enter the car "Not a chance. You look lovely by the way"

"I won't roll my eyes at them, believe it or not, I do know how to handle myself in social events" She put on her seatbelt and he started the car turning on the GPS "Is the idea of meeting our old friends from uni and his parents what freaks me out, they must think I'm some kind of monster"

Our for some reason that word hurt more than it should, he brushed off the idea from his head again, jealous was an useless emotion to him and a dangerous one too in some people, and he was determined to not let them get the best of him.

"I don't think they would have invited you if they felt like that, or at least not to the rehearsal dinner too if that was the case." He said taking an exit indicated in the GPS.

"You clearly don't know Agnes Hawtrey" He briefly turn to her intrigued "David's mother, she is a rich harpy obsessed with showing everyone all the money their family has. I feel sorry for her future daughter in law, but since they actually getting married I assume she is not some Liberal brat who thinks spending Christmas in Libya is appropriate" She said imitating an high pitch voice with a posh accent.

"Why Libya?"

"Medecins sans frontiers" She answered "I volunteered to work with them in my holidays and David followed me a couple times. Agnes hated me for it, I actually think she was happy when I left him."

"Do you speak french?" He asked again trying to change the subject.

"Enough to work with them, but I'm completely rusty by now" she answered "I know it's too much effort to escape a suffocating relationship" the angry beast that had formed in his chest began to fade thanks to the idea of she not being entirely happy with the other guy, so he decided to approach the problem differently.

"I don't understand how do you end up together in the first place, you are too much of a free spirit to be around someone like that" He said, by now the city was getting behind them and he could start driving faster.

"Well my family is actually quite wealthy" She started causing a puzzled expression in his face "I reject any form of help from them and live on my own, but I did play my part in society for a while, so it seemed meant to be at the time. Of course I turned out to be a rotten apple and at some point I believe I was his excuse to hide how much he didn't enjoy their life style. I told you he was no saint, and maybe those where our finest moments" She said with a nostalgic smile, as if she remembered an specially pleasing memory. "But real life happened, you know? You are gonna like him don't worry"

"Well he sounds like a decent men" he said bitterly because his idea backfired "Music?"

They spend the rest of the trip talking about meaningless topics and singing along with the radio, by the time they eentered Yorkshire it was seven in the afternoon and the sun was standing to hide, the Waterton Perk hotel was magnificent, romantic and secluded as Charlie said, in the middle of a lake connected to land by a bridge full with trees naked by the winter that make the mansion looking more as something out of a fairytale.

He helped her out of the car and enjoyed having her body close to him while they crossed the bridge preventing her to fall with her heels. They entered a small lounge where people where waiting for the dinner to be served. As she had said earlier that week most of the people attending were old family friends of the bride and groom, and not many young faces were in the crowd. Except from those who he believed were the Uni friends, he introduced himself and even took a picture with one of the girls who had a similar reaction as Y/N when she met him.

Y/N was now chatting, a few meters away, more comfortable with them expecting the arrival of the main guests, while a couple of people were distracting Tom, complimenting his performance as Coriolanus a few years back and praising his Robert Down, so he couldn't notice the old woman, elegantly dressed in a light gray dress walking towards Y/N and dragging her apart from her friends, until she start talking in that high pitch voice Y/N had imitated very well earlier.

"How dare you showing your face in here?" The woman said to her while the young woman only remind silent not meeting her gaze "You spoiled ridiculous brat, after what you did to my boy, you should be ashamed..."

"Relax Agnes," She finally said lifting her look, Tom then was about to intervene but he could se a quiet rage behind her otherwise unaffected face, and felt forced to stay and watch "Let me remind you that your son invited me. And the last time I checked you are not David, also if you cared a little about your precious boy you wouldn't be making a fool of yourself in front of your guests" People where now standing very close to them listening every word the women said.

"You are right dear," Agnes started with a tone that said just the opposite, but smiling regaining her composure "After all how can I expect manners from a little trash from Devon anyway" Y/N let out a sarcastic laugh at the remark against her hometown and looked at her while the elder woman turned her back on her.

"Of course because the loose daughter of a fisherman as you called me can't be a suitable in law for you, I honestly pity the poor woman who has to have you in her life, I hope you can control her since you couldn't do it with me...

Her sentence die in the air because an old hand full of rings slapped her before she could finish, a red mark started forming in Y/N face, an she was fighting the tears, both from the humiliation and the hurt, from coming out of her eyes. Tom could see Agnes hand getting ready to hit her again while he tried to reach Y/N when a hand stopped her out of nowhere and spoke with a deep angry voice.

"That's enough mother" The infamous David was there, holding her mother still and standing in front of Y/N as a shield, all welled dressed and athletic, she looked tiny behind him and the beast inside Tom's chest started growling again. "Dad I asked you to watch her, Diane will be here any minute and I can't have this happening right now" The man who Tom assume was his father took agnes outside of the room and the rest of the people returned to their conversations as if nothing happened, finally allowing him to get closer. "Are you ok baby?" He said looking finally at Y/N offering his handkerchief to wipe her tears, that last word burned like fire in Tom's ears, he was now facing her with his back to Tom, and the bright smile that she gave him when she answered was making him sick

"It's okay sweetheart" She give back the handkerchief and give the man a good look "Let her have it, she has wanted to do that for 15 years, it's only fare, you look amazing, I'm so happy for you" She hugged him and the familiarity he showed holding her, made Tom's blood boil, he wanted to get him apart from her immediately, and take her far away from him and the poisonous thought of they together for years was corrupting his mind, there it was, jealousy cold and simple, the only thing his mind kept telling him was: He had her, and you don't. He had her for years, just the way you want her, she was his.

"And where is your something like that, I'm dying to met the lad" He said letting her go.

"Right behind you" she said completely ignoring the change in Tom's expression who was looking at the two with his mind apparently somewhere else. "Tom this is David." She said calling his name and breaking the murderous thoughts he was having.

"Sorry I wake you up the other night mate... Bloody hell you beautiful minx you did it!" He said loudly hugging her by the shoulder and then, much to his displeasure, Tom "Years obsessed with him, and drooling to his posters in our house and here you are inviting him to my wedding, I must say girl you made it! congratulations." She started turning red again but this time from the embarrassment, and Tom finally relaxed, something about David's personality make it impossible for him to be angry, maybe it was the fact that he was genuinely happy and how could he not? It was his wedding after all.

"Posters?" He asked enjoying the desperation in Y/N eyes urging him to change the subject.

"Posters, dvds, tshirts, you name it, she dragged me to watch your movies like four times each time they were on the cinema and then watched them on repeat at our flat" He recalled with exasperation "Don't get me wrong you are a fine looking man but not my type"

"Oh god, I think I'm going to find your mother to slap me again" She said covering her face "Please, I beg you stop talking"

"Let the man finish, it's the most compelling history" Tom said and while he put his arm around her waist taking her close to him.

"I'm glad to see you two together, I was so relieved when she said she was bringing someone, not like she needs anyone" He said anticipating her reaction proving to Tom just how much he knew her "But you two look actually happy together, and she's the most wonderful person" Y/N was about to clear things out when Tom wink at her and pressed her a little closer to him.

"She actually is, and we are very happy" He said giving him one of signature smiles "Is that your bride?" A young looking woman entered the room with a beautiful pale pink dress, and she looked at them completely baffled.

"Oh yes baby, that's my Diane" the man said and Tom felt ashamed for his brief jealous attack as the man seemed to call everyone baby. "Guess who we wake up the other morning dear?" The man said urging the girl to join them.

"Oh my goodness" The woman started "Are you...?" Tom smiled and politely introduce himself, and David then introduced both women "I am so sorry about the other morning, I told David to wait until noon when we were in Pakistan but he called you anyways, it was four in the morning right?"

"Yes, but never mind, what where you doing in Pakistan?" Y/N said now holding tight Tom's waist too.

"Building a hospital, Diane's foundation hired me a couple years ago and that's how we met, we've been living there for like five months, we were just going to elope a few weeks back, but I did this so I wouldn't cause my mother an aneurysm, but she had to accept my conditions to make it happen" He said proudly.

"Like inviting me?"

"That was actually my demand" Diane said with a little blush on her face "I really wanted to meet you, I heard so many wonderful things about you I thought maybe it was time for you to be friends again"

"And I told her we never stopped being friends in the first place, but she is stubborn, and I can't resist her" they started kissing like there were no one else in the room and Tom and Y/N look at each other nervously.

"Oi! Leave something for tomorrow" on of their friends called them from the dining room "The food is here come on"

The rest of the night went by without any other incident, apart for the perpetual state of happiness that David showed for Tom's presence, by the time the rest of the gests went to find their rooms Y/N and Tom were taking a last walk in the cold night, it was until they were at the entrance of the bridge that he noticed they were holding hands.

"Your boyfriend is quite a nice gentleman" he said teasing her.

"By the amount of wine he was trying to make you drink I would think he wants to be your boyfriend" she responded quickly. "Why did you told him we were together?" She question him now completely serious.

"I didn't thought you wanted to explain the nature of our relationship after what happened with his mother. So until the wedding is over I suppose I'm your boyfriend. How is your face by the way?" He said, not giving importance to the matter while they kept walking.

"It has been better. And thank you I suppose you are right, and it is nice to imagine what could have been, if I haven't been an idiot at the restaurant all those years ago, and not scaring you into not calling back" He stopped suddenly making them broke contact.

"That's why you think I didn't called?" He asked perplex "I couldn't care less about that ridiculous tantrum, if anything I was more interested in you for it" she was too astonished by his declaration to talk so he continued "I didn't asked you out again because you said I'll see you around I assumed you didn't want to be involved with me that way so I didn't push it."

"Well..." She started quietly with a sad half smile in her face "I did say that, with that precise intention, but secretly hoping for you to call anyway, and I even considered to ask you out myself, but then we became friends and, I don't know it was for the best, but nights like this one make me wonder if we made a mistake."

"Please never say that again" He took her face with both hands his hands and looked deeply in her eyes "Every day I have spend with you regardless of what our relationship may be, has been a blessing. I wouldn't change it for the world" she let go a sigh and her breath turn into vapor in the night, making them realize the cold weather. "I think we should get back inside, you are gonna freeze out here love, and what kind of fake boyfriend will I be if I let you become an ice lolly?". He offered her his arm so they could get back inside, his mind thinking too about how much he wanted to call her the minute he got home that day, but as always trying to respect her he didn't , and as always he calmed his regrets telling himself it was for the best, even if every passing day he felt more and more the opposite.

The room they had book was nice and comfortable, the big canopy bed in the middle was a beautiful promise of a long night of sleep and the window had a beautiful look at the lake. They both will be lying if they said this was the first night they have spend together, falling asleep talking in Tom's couch had happened more than half a dozen times, and even if Y/N never accepted it in front of her friends, she had stayed a couple of nights with him watching Bobby getting better, even sleeping in the same bed completley completely consumed by fatigue, so there was no awkwardness between them about consciously sharing the bed.

She took her heels off and found her silky romper pyjama in her suit case next to her travel size copy of Wuthering Heights, wich she occasionally read when she traveled and with the look outside the mansion it seemed appropriate, Y/N sit in the armchair in the corner of the room to read, waiting for Tom to get out of the shower, after reading four times the same paragraph without getting anything from it she realized just how tired she was.

She heard the door opened and saw him getting out of the shower whit just a pair of black loose sweatpants dangling from his hips and a thin line of pubic hair crawling up from the waistband dying in his perfect abs, drying his hair with a towel.

"What?" He asked her looking at her finally. "Do you feel alright darling?"

"I'm just tired" she said quickly taking her clothes and getting into the bathroom for a much needed cold shower. When she stepped out after drying her hair she almost fell down because he had turned out all of the lights and was already deeply sleeping, she'll have time to nagging him about how inconsiderate that was in the morning, she entered the bed and close her eyes trying to drift apart and think about nothing when she felt his arms suddenly trapping her and bringing her closer to him by her waist.

She didn't mind since they had cuddled like that before, even when this particular time she could feel the bare skin of his chest in her back, but then the hand that was holding her started moving slowly caressing her belly and some parts she often felt self conscious about, then slowly moving down to her thigh, she was about to finally move and stop him when she felt his breath behind her back and his deep voice in her ear.

"Are you awake?"

"Yes" Y/N said in a tiny whisper while his hand found her way under the fabric of her romper.

"Are you cold again?" He asked this time brushing his nose in her neck, every inch of her skin was reacting to his touch and the deep tone of his voice was making her wet "you are shaking"

"It's not about that" she answered incapable of moving only embracing the magnificent sensations she was receiving.

"Am I making you feel uncomfortable?" His hand had finally found her lacy panties and he had stopped only touching the seam waiting for her permission to continue. "Do you want this to happen?" He said stopping his movements completely, she could feel her heart racing and all logic flying away.

"Yes, I want it" she said finally and he caressed her womanhood over the thin fabric, making her soaked, while his other hand tried to remove the top part of her jumper sliding down the traps leaving her braless chest exposed.

"Naughty girl" He said with a chuckle leaving a trace of kisses in her back and cupping her breast in his hand playing with her niple until it was hard and them pinching it to get her in that point between pain and pleasure.

He move apart the fabric of her panties and let one of his long digits inside her making her moan in pleasure and impatiently brushing her thighs together desperate for more friction, she could feel his arousal pressing firmly in her buttocks, and all this anticipation was only to torture her.

"Don't be impatient my dear" he said letting in another finger and curling them inside her, touching her right on the spot to make her lost her mind "Tell me that you want it Y/N" he order her and she let go another moan.

"Fuck me Tom, fuck me please!" She said and he immediately took his fingers out to pin her in the bed under him.

He finished taking the rest of her clothes in one movement and opened her legs ready to enter her, he give her one last deep look with those piercing blue eyes and he bend to kiss her...

"You should take a shower or at least put on something more comfortable" Tom face said suddenly wearing his glasses and fully clothed. Y/N blink twice, before shaking the sleepiness, and trying to figure out what was happening. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up, but I thought you may want to shower before going to sleep"

She finally opened her eyes completely and could see him out of the shower on his pijamas, her silky romper still waiting for her to take a shower and her book comfortably resting on the lamp stand next to her.

"Yeah sure, I'm too tired I must have fallen asleep, thanks for waking me up" she said avoiding his look and desperately picking up her fresh clothes.

"Sure love, you can't be at the wedding with a crooked neck" he said picking up the book she was reading. "You were moving a lot so I imagine that armchair can't be comfortable" he said with a distracted smile and she went straight to the bathroom before turning red of embarrassment.

Y/N slammed the bathroom door closed, and Tom stood next to the armchair looking where she was just moments before, once he heard the water fall in the shower he massaged his temples, trying to erase from his mind what he had seen but it was impossible and he really didn't want to forget it. She was sweating and panting when he got out of the shower, and the neckline of her dress a was a little lower than usual perfectly countoring her breasts.

He stood there looking at her and it took him just one more second to realized what kind of dream she must've been having. Blushing and feeling like a pervert he walked back into the bathroom determined to make as much noise as he could to wake her up when he heard her moan. Fuck me Tom, fuck me please! He walked back to her and before the blood abandoned his brain entirely, to migrate to his lower region, he did the logical thing and wake her up.

He exhaled feeling like and idiot. This was going to be a long weekend.

[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

Six Baudelaires AU, Part Two {AO3} {Masterlist} {Part One}

Chapter Twenty-Nine → in which Solitude finally morphs into a reptile

Soli giggled as Violet’s makeup brush danced across her face.

“Hold still, this is gonna smudge.” Violet said.

She had already applied powder to the twins’ faces, and burn scars to her own, and now she was working on Solitude’s scales. Sunny was wrapped up in her fake beard, practicing growls, while Klaus and Nick were applying talcum to their hair to make it look white. Lilac was sitting beside Violet, designing fake, scary-looking tattoos up her arm. Most of the tattoos on her other arm, face and legs had already dried, so she was almost done. She had tied her hair into two buns on the top of her head, after slamming some powder onto it, and she was using her ribbon to tie up her dress underneath the large shirt.

“There.” Violet sat back, pushing some of the ginger wig out of her face; it was bobbed, but it still got into her eyes a little. “What do you think, Sol?”

Solitude turned to the phone booth, giggling as she stared at her scaly reflection in the glass. She let out a hiss, and then held out her hand for Babbitt, who leapt onto her shoulder and chirped their approval.

“Now,” Soli said, picking up the box of snakes, “Braid these in?”

Violet nodded, moving behind her and starting to braid in the rubber snakes. Nick came over to join her, and he said, “Your makeup looks good. You… look like you’ve actually been burned.”

“That’s good, I guess.” Violet sighed. “You and Klaus look unrecognizable.” She turned to her other brother, who was helping Lilac, and called, “Are you sure you don’t want your glasses?”

“I’ll be fine if I squint.” Klaus said. “I won’t be able to read, but… well, I won’t bump into anything.”

“I can be your eyes.” Nick said. “If you and Soli’ll be my emotional support.”

Solitude nodded and hissed again, trying to imitate a rattlesnake; she was doing pretty well.

“I think we’ve got the snakes.” Violet said, and she and Klaus scooted away from Soli, who once again checked her reflection in the telephone booth. “What do you think?”

Solitude hissed again and shook her head, which caused the snakes to bounce. She giggled and clapped, and then said, “Love it! Good snakes! Babbitt, make chirp?” Babbitt chirped, and Soli said, “Can you do it when I…” she tapped on the frog’s head, and in response, Babbitt chirped again. “Good Babbitt! Smart Babbitt!”

“Babbitt can hide in your pocket.” Lilac said, blowing on the black rose design she’d just painted. “Boys, do you think you can walk with one leg?”

“We’ll be fine.” Klaus said. “Just try to avoid washing off your makeup, or letting it peel. Same with you, Vi.”

“I’ll be fine.” Violet said. “Sunny, you think you can be a wolf puppy?”

Sunny growled.

“Alright, then.” Violet said.

“Are we sure we want to do this?” Lilac asked, staring down at her painted skin. “Freakshows are awful, horrible places, and it’s likely we… well, we won’t have a great time.”

“What choice do we have?” Violet said.

Nick slowly slid his hand into Klaus’s, and he said, “We’d better hurry.”

“What’s the rush?” Klaus said, staring at Sunny, who was rolling around in the dirt.

“Well, if they…” Nick shut his eyes. “We just… better get there before they drink too much, that’s all.”

“Why-?” Soli asked, looking confused.

“Hey, hey!” Nick forced a smile on his face. “You’re a snake now, remember? Hissing only.”

Soli beamed and giggled, and then hissed like a cobra.

“Alright, get into costume.” Lilac said, and hesitantly, Klaus and Nick struggled to get into one shirt. “Now, be careful, and if anything goes wrong, I’ll-”

“If anything goes wrong,” Violet interrupted, standing up and grabbing Soli’s hand, “We’ll deal with it together.”

Lilac hesitantly nodded, and then she grabbed Violet’s other hand. “Let’s… let’s go in for a job interview, huh?”  

They stared at each other, and then Klaus and Nick stepped forwards, stumbling slightly as they tried to get used to walking with one leg each. Sunny crawled forwards, still practicing her barks, and Solitude toddled around, hissing to herself.

They made it back over to the caravan, and Lilac took a deep breath, before knocking on the door.

“Now, remember,” Violet said to her, “Stay in character. You’re a punk.”

“Why didn’t you be the punk?”

“Shut up.”

The door opened, and everyone immediately straightened up and did their best not to look scared- which was quite easy for Solitude and Sunny, who were 100% convinced that this was the best plan ever.

The children found themselves face-to-face with Count Olaf, and for a moment, none of them could breathe.

Then Lilac took a deep breath, put a hand on her hip, and said, “You nerds still hiring?”

For a moment, they thought none of it had worked; Olaf just gave them a stare, and then a wicked smile.

Then, to their relief, he said, “Why, Madame Lulu! I believe some freaks have arrived for you!”

Nick shook slightly, grabbing onto Klaus’s hand under the shirt. Klaus squeezed it as they heard Madame Lulu call, “Oh! Well, please, allow them in, please!”

Lilac, both because she wanted to stay in character and because she was very sick of his shit, immediately pushed past Olaf, walking into the caravan as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Violet nervously followed, putting a hand over her false burn as if she was ashamed of it. Solitude and Sunny managed to crawl in, and then came Nick and Klaus, once Olaf had moved farther back inside. The caravan had become a bit crowded by this point, but at least everyone could get a decent look at each other.

The troupe looked a bit tipsy, and the siblings who thought to look around counted several empty bottles scattered around the floor. When Count Olaf sat back down, Esme flopped her head onto his shoulder, giggling slightly, while the other henchpeople and Lulu just scanned the Baudelaires.

“Well, they certainly seem freakish.” said the Bald Man.

“Horrific.” said a White-Faced Woman.

“Ghastly.” said the other White-Faced Woman.

Solitude hissed, and Klaus said, “We can hear you.”

“Well, you came to get hired for a freakshow,” Esme said, “What did you expect?”

“To get hired.” Lilac said, rolling her eyes.

“Well, then,” Lulu said, stepping forwards and looking a bit confused, “What exactly are you, please?”

“You can call me Babydoll.” Lilac said. She held out her arms. “My parents were tattoo artists and practiced on me, til they died.”

“Oh, in a fire?” asked the Hook-Handed Man.

Lilac shook her head. “They fell into a river and drowned.”

“Oh, how’d that happen?” asked a White-Faced Woman.

Lilac smirked, enjoying herself immensely. “I got sick of their shit and tied rocks to their boots.”

Surprisingly, the henchpeople looked a little startled at that, as did Lulu, but Esme laughed. “Sounds like my kind of girl!” she said. “I drowned an ex once. So did you, dear, right?”

Olaf was taking another swig of wine, so they couldn’t exactly see his reaction.

“Who’s that, then?” Esme asked, pointing to Violet, who’d been petting Sunny. She flinched and jumped to her feet. “Oh, Egad, what the hell happened to her face?”

Violet flinched again, trying to look shy. She said, only just loud enough to be heard, “I’m Beverly. My… um, my face burned off in an accident.”

“Yeah.” Lilac said, walking over and leaning onto Violet’s shoulder. “She was a kid, see, and her bro was playing with matches. Like we all do.”

The troupe nodded. “Yes, of course.” Olaf said.

“So, well, you can guess what happened.” Lilac shrugged. “Those losers over there,” she gestured to Nick and Klaus, “Are conjoined twins.”

“That means we were born stuck together.” Klaus said.

“We know what ‘conjoined twins’ are.” said a White-Faced Woman.

“Well, I’m Elliot,” Klaus said, “And this is my other head, Janus.”

“Nice to meet you.” Nick said, very quietly.

“And that down there,” Lilac said, pointing her thumb at Solitude, “Is our little pet gorgon. We call ‘er Euryale, cause her actual name is just a buncha hisses.”

Solitude giggled and let out a pretty good imitation of the Mamba du Mal, shaking her head so the rubber snakes looked like they were moving.

“See, it’s whatever that is.” Lilac said, as the troupe nervously scooted away from her.

“I thought gorgons were a myth.” Olaf said. “Like Giuseppe Verdi and Dewey Denouement.”

“Giuseppe Verdi is an Italian composer.” Klaus said without thinking.

“No one asked you, freak.” Olaf said.

Lilac quickly interrupted. “Well, yeah, we thought they were fake and all, but she came outta the woods with snake hair. Apparently the other gorgons think she’s a freak, too, cause she can’t turn people to stone. She can just look weird and make snake calls. All her snakes have names, too, but you don’t care, course.”

“Of course.” Olaf said.

“What’s that one?” asked the Hook-Handed Man, pointing a hook at Sunny. In response, she growled and jumped forwards, attempting to bite. He jumped back, startled.

“That’s Chabo the wolf baby.” Violet said.

“Her mother was a hunter and her father was a wolf she fell in love with.” Klaus added.

“I didn’t even know that was possible.” said the Bald Man.

“She bites and scratches a lot.” Lilac said. “These idiots learned that pretty quick, isn’t that right?”

“Please don’t remind us.” Violet said.

“Only person she doesn’t mess with is Euryale,” Lilac explained, “Cause her snakes bite. They ain’t poisonous, but they sure do hurt.”

Solitude hissed and shook her head, and then she poked her pocket, and Babbitt let out a loud chirp to add to the noise.

“Anyway, we don’t ask much for payment and shit.” Lilac said, rolling her eyes again. “We just need a place to sleep. And probably food. Chabo really tears her meat apart.”

“She can do that in front of an audience, please.” Lulu said. “People love seeing sloppy eaters, and we must always give the people what they want.”

“Oh, hey, the two-headed freak can eat something, too.” Olaf said. He grabbed an ear of corn and tossed it at Klaus and Nick. Nick flinched, so Klaus managed to catch it. “Eat this!”

Klaus and Nick shared a look, and then both struggled to push the ear of corn towards one of their mouths.

The troupe laughed, and the Baudelaires pretended not to be disgusted.

“So? Are we hired or not?” Lilac asked, still trying not to break character.

Lulu shrugged. “Madame Lulu does not see why not, please, so long as you can all fit into the freaks’ caravan, please. Go find it, please, while my Olaf and I talk about our act for tomorrow.”

“Whatever you say, boss girl.” Lilac said. She grabbed Violet’s arm and said, “Come on, Bev, move your sorry ass.”

“Okay, okay.” Violet muttered, snapping her fingers to signal the toddlers to follow her.

The second they were all out of the caravan, Klaus said, “That was humiliating.”

“That was awful.” Nick shuddered.

“Why did we decide this was my character again?” Lilac asked.

“I dunno,” Violet said, ripping herself away from Lilac’s grip, “I think you’re enjoying this a bit.”

“I am!” Sunny said.

“Chabo, only barks.” Klaus reminded her.

“Bark!” Sunny said, which meant, “I am!”

“Hiss!” said Soli.

“Okay, well, that worked better than expected. Let’s focus on that.” Lilac said. “Now we find the freaks’ caravan, sleep there, and figure out what Lulu tells Olaf tomorrow.”

“What if she tells him we’re here?” Violet asked.

“Then we set Chabo on the entire troupe.” Klaus suggested.

“You know,” Nick said, “I don’t need to sleep, I could spy on Lulu-”

“No, no.” Lilac said. “First of all, no. Second of all, you’re attached to Klaus, so double no.”

“But-” Nick began.

“Can we just find the caravan?” Violet asked. “It’s cold out here.”

Lilac sighed. “Yeah, sure. Come on, let’s go meet our new roommates.”

They finally managed to find the caravan that had been painted with the words House of Freaks on the side, and Lilac found the door, knocking gently. “Hello?” she called.

“Stay in character.” Violet muttered.

The door swung open before Lilac could retort, and they looked up to see a tired-looking man with a hunchback. He was holding a candle to help him see in the dark, and he said, “Oh, excuse me. Who are you?”

“We’re your new roomies.” Lilac said.

“Um, we’re the new freaks.” Violet said, trying once again to sound shy. “Madame Lulu told us to come here.”

“Oh!” said the hunchback, and he smiled. “Well, it certainly is nice to make new friends! Come on inside! I’m Hugo.”

“Babydoll.” Lilac said, walking in and trying not to be too rude or too polite.

“Um, I’m Beverly.” Violet said, following her closely.

“I’m Janus,” Nick said, “And this is my other head, Elliot.”

“Those are Euryale the Gorgon and Chabo the Wolf Baby.” Klaus said, as they all made their way inside.

“Wow! We got a lot at once!” Hugo said. “How did you all find each other?”

“It’s a long story that nobody cares about.” Lilac said, sitting on a table and glancing around the caravan, which she was surprised to see was very tidy. “Who’re all you, then?”

Violet and Sunny leaned against a small stove, and Nick and Klaus stumbled to a collection of potted plants. Solitude, meanwhile, wandered over to a large collection of hammocks, two of which were filled. A woman peered down at them and said, “Oh! New coworkers!” She jumped down, pushing on another hammock. “Kevin, get up! New friends!”

A man groaned and sat up. “Why’d you wake me up, Colette? I was having a dream that there was nothing wrong with me.” He glanced at Klaus and Nick and said, “Egad, you two have it as bad as I do!”

“Be polite, Kevin.” Hugo said. “These are… I’m sorry, what are your names again?”

Lilac groaned. “I’m Babydoll, the tattooed teen. That’s Beverly the burned.”

Violet waved awkwardly, gesturing to her scar.

“That’s Elliot and Janus, the two-headed freak.” Lilac said. “The little gorgon who went to say hello to you is Euryale, and at Bev’s feet is Chabo the Wolf Baby.”

“Wow. A wolf baby!” said Colette.

“Is she dangerous?” asked Kevin.

“She doesn’t like to be teased.” Nick warned.

“Neither do I.” Kevin said. “But wherever I go, I hear people whispering, ‘There goes Kevin, the ambidextrous freak.’”

“Ambidextrous?” Klaus asked. “Doesn’t that just mean you’re both right and left-handed?”

“Ah, so you’ve heard of me.” Kevin said. “Did you come all the way to the Hinterlands to laugh at the ambidextrous freak?”

“No.” Klaus said quickly. “I just learned the word from a book.”

“I figured you’d be smart.” Hugo said. “After all, you’ve got two brains.”

“Yes, that’s much more useful than what I have.” Colette said sadly. “I’m Colette, and if you’re going to laugh at me, I’ d prefer you to it now and get it over with.”

“Why would we laugh?” Violet asked, confused.

“Well, I’m a contortionist.” Colette said. “I can bend my body into all sorts of unusual positions. Look.”

She sighed and then bent her head down between her legs, then curled up into a tiny ball on the floor. She pushed one hand against the ground, lifting her body up on just a few fingers, braiding her hair into a spiral. Then she flipped into the air, balanced on her head, and then twisted her arms and legs together.

“Wow!” Sunny shrieked.

“That’s amazing.” Violet said. “Chabo thinks so, too.”

“That’s very polite of you to say,” Colette said, moving back to sit normally, “But I’m very ashamed of being a contortionist.”

“If you’re ashamed of it,” Nick asked, “Why don’t you just move your body normally, instead of doing contortions?”

“Because I’m in the House of Freaks.” Colette shrugged. “Nobody would pay to see me move normally.”

“It’s an interesting dilemma,” Hugo said. “All three of us would rather be normal people than freaks, but tomorrow morning, people will be waiting in the tent to see us all act in unnatural and strange ways. Madame Lulu says we must always give people what they want, and they want freaks performing on a stage.”

“Maybe what they want is wrong.” Lilac said, her voice growing soft. “Maybe you deserve better.”

“Well,” Colette said, “Maybe tomorrow a miracle will happen and we’ll all get the things we wish for most.”

Under their shirt, Klaus grabbed Nick’s hand, and Sunny leaned against Violet as Solitude sat and patted her pocket. “We all can hope.” was all Lilac said.

“Wake up! Wake up!”

“Son of a bitch.” Klaus muttered, as they heard the sound of metal pots banging together.

“Not again…” Violet groaned, sitting up and quickly checking her makeup in the mirror, pleased to see it remained.

Hugo and Kevin had set up hammocks for them, and though it was still a bit crowded, they’d all been able to sleep a little. Solitude slept at Klaus and Nick’s feet, Babbitt hiding under a pillow, and Sunny slept beside Violet, who now carried her to the ground as she growled.

“That must be one of the Count’s friends.” said Kevin, jumping down from his bunk.

“The Count?” Lilac asked, acting curious as she made sure Klaus and Nick got down okay.

“Yes, Count Olaf. He stops by to see Madame Lulu a lot.” Hugo said. “Why, last time he was here, he had-”

The door opened, and the Hook-Handed Man peered in, looking very cross. “Wake up!” he shouted. “Wake up and hurry up! I’m in a very bad mood and have no time for your nonsense. Madame Lulu and Count Olaf are running errands, I’m in charge of the House of Freaks, the crystal ball revealed that one of those blasted Baudelaire parents is still alive, and the gift caravan is almost out of figurines!”

The Baudelaires froze. “What did you say?” Lilac said, breathless.

‘I said the gift caravan is almost out of figurines.” the Hook-Handed Man said. “But that’s not your concern. Be ready in fifteen minutes!”

[v-thinks-on]

A Crazy Little Thing Called Love

Part 3 of A Crazy Little Thing Called Love

First | Previous | Next

Spock first noticed it on Gamma Trianguli VI, in the way Dr. McCoy looked at him when the captain was in distress as though it was Spock’s responsibility to comfort him, even though they both very well knew emotions were not within his area of expertise. It was Spock’s duty, however, to support the captain in any way necessary, and so he performed his duty to the best of his ability.

Spock did not miss the conspiratorial look Ensign Chekov shared with Yeoman Landon when the captain helped him to his feet. Clearly, the ensign observed something, but what he did not say; he simply expected the Yeoman to understand.

It was around that time that Captain Kirk began ordering Spock to join him on nearly every away mission. Spock did not object, of course; it was his duty to do as the captain said, and this made it much easier for him to ensure the captain’s safety - and there was often danger. Still, it was unusual, he eventually concluded, for a captain to insist on keeping his first officer always by his side.

Spock was unable to gather much more data until he, the captain, and Dr. McCoy were on a shuttlecraft, returning to the Enterprise from their unintended detour to a peculiar planetoid, where they had found the famed inventor of the warp drive, Zephram Cochrane, and his mysterious alien companion.

“Mr. Cochrane is a lucky man,” the captain remarked, leaning back in his chair on the shuttlecraft. He was watching Spock with a peculiar, almost knowing smile.

Spock quirked an eyebrow at him. Being stranded on a planetoid and held hostage by an alien entity did not seem to be a particularly fortunate fate, though the creature Mr. Cochrane called his companion was fascinating.

The captain’s smile grew even wider. “There isn’t a man on Earth who’s lucky enough to have a love like that. To be engulfed, physically and mentally, in love. No fumbling with words, just pure thought. It’s almost a shame she took on a human form, though I doubt Mr. Cochrane would agree with me.”

Spock cocked his head to one side, nearly certain he was mishearing something. “You mean to say that you are in love with the companion, captain?”

Dr. McCoy snorted in barely contained laughter from behind them.

The captain shot a glance back at the doctor and returned his intense gaze to Mr. Spock. “No, not quite,” he said. He wasn’t biting back laughter, but amusement seemed to radiate off of him. “I was just thinking it’d be nice to have a love like that.”

Both of Spock’s eyebrows rose in astonishment at the captain’s words. “Fascinating. I was not aware a human would find such a relationship appealing.”

Dr. McCoy could remain silent no longer and retorted, “Well, our captain isn’t just any human.” What Dr. McCoy found so amusing, Spock could not begin to guess, but it was not unusual for the doctor to behave illogically.

Still, Spock found he had to agree, “You are correct, doctor, our captain is remarkable among humans in many ways.”

Spock met the captain’s gaze and the captain smiled back at him, glowing. “What do you make of Mr. Cochrane and his companion, Mr. Spock?”

Spock considered the question for a moment. “I wonder how the companion is adjusting to the removal of its telepathy. It was a purely psychic creature, which is now residing in a psy-null body. I would expect such a change to be disorienting to say the least.”

The captain nodded, though there was still some amusement in his expression that Spock could not explain. The captain glanced back at Dr. McCoy again before he replied, “A reasonable assessment, Mr. Spock. Very logical, of course.”

“Thank you, captain,” Spock replied. The corners of his lips turned upward at the compliment.

The speaker at the door to Spock’s quarters gave a long, low whistle.

“Come in,” Spock declared. He stood at attention as the door slid open to reveal his mother, Lady Amanda.

She stepped inside and regarded her son with a small smile that would have been startlingly out of place on Vulcan. Her eyes seemed to search his face for something. At last, she said, “I haven’t seen you in sick bay since you were discharged.”

“Until Captain Kirk is fully recovered, it is my duty to act as the captain of the Enterprise,” he said as though that settled the matter.

She sighed. “It’s been four years, Spock, can’t a mother talk to her son?”

Spock quirked an eyebrow at her. “Is there something you would like to discuss?”

“I just want to know how you’re doing, is that a crime?” Amanda insisted.

“If you would like to see my performance review, I am certain the captain would be happy to oblige,” Spock replied. His eyebrows rose almost to challenge her.

“Do you enjoy working in Starfleet?” She asked, undeterred. “I could never tell. You seemed more comfortable after you left Vulcan, but I know that’s not saying much.”

“You ought to know that enjoyment is illogical. I perform my duties, nothing more,” he said.

“Then why stay in Starfleet and not return to Vulcan?” She exclaimed in exasperation.

“I am not needed on Vulcan,” Spock said. “My logic is most needed here, on a starship full of illogical humans.”

She tried another track, “How is working with Captain Kirk? Last time I saw you, you were serving under Captain Pike.”

“Captain Kirk performs his duties most effectively,” Spock acknowledged. “He is very human, however he has succeeded at using his illogic to his advantage, perhaps because he is aware of what is logical, even if he chooses not to behave accordingly.”

For some reason Spock could not begin to fathom, his mother smiled. “Captain Kirk called you his friend,” she remarked.

Spock hesitated. “A human notion,” he said at last.

“I didn’t notice it before,” she said carefully, though her smile remained, “But you’ve changed since I last saw you.”

Spock quirked an eyebrow at her.

“You’re more human,” she said. “And don’t look at me like that,” she exclaimed, “It’s not a dirty word. You’re just as human as you are Vulcan, and I’m glad that Captain Kirk is helping you see it, even if I can’t.”

“I may be half-human by birth,” Spock replied, his voice stiff and expression hard, “But I was raised as a Vulcan and am therefore no more human than my father.”

She shook her head. “I don’t believe that.” She hesitated. “You know that captain of yours loves you and I can tell that you love him too, even if you won’t admit it.”

Spock barely missed a beat. “Love is an illogical human emotion, which I am incapable of experiencing.”

“You are human,” she insisted.

Her son glared at her.

“You admire Captain Kirk despite- even for his illogical human emotions. Why can’t you have them?” She demanded.

“The captain is human. I am Vulcan,” he said.

She sighed. “Just think about it, Spock, please. I don’t like seeing your human and Vulcan natures warring within you. Your father and I get along, don’t we? And isn’t it illogical to deny half of who you are?” She hesitated before finally saying, “Your father would never admit it, but he has emotions too, and so do you. Maybe emotion doesn’t have to be illogical.”

Spock quirked an eyebrow at her, but he seemed to consider the suggestion.

Note: The second scene is dedicated to LSPINGLES on Archive of Our Own who requested a conversation between Spock and his parents after Journey to Babel many months ago.

[viktorredemptionarc]

Title: Think of me softly.

A/N: What if musicals and Jayce and Viktor in a blender. This.

Word Count: 10220.

Characters/Relationships: Jayce/Viktor.

Rating: T (for swearing).

Summary: Jayce has been having a pretty good time playing every main role until Viktor steals the spotlight.

Link to AO3 again.

Madness, folly, and insanity. An outrageous act of disrespect towards Jayce, the best actor that company is going to have the pleasure of encountering in its, most likely, short life.

Caitlyn watches as he speaks, no, declaims. She stands in front of him, in the dressing room, with her arms crossed and her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Are you done?” she grits out, and Jayce would have said that no, he is not, but her eyebrows are pinched together and that is never a good sign so he nods instead. “I have not given you Erik because Viktor is good at being a gloomy bastard and his pitch fits better. Now you can either keep on being a brat about it and bugger off, don’t bother coming back, or accept it.”

Jayce breathes in deep. He tries to stay reasonable and level-headed. Like an adult would. But it’s hard, because he’s both a senior and a good actor. And companies aren’t supposed to give the leading role to new additions. It doesn’t work like that. It’s absurd and offensive towards the rest. Then again, if he says that Caitlyn will probably drop a latte on him and then kick him out.

“So what am I supposed to do, then? Play a supporting role?”

Caitlyn quirks an eyebrow. “You are going to play Christine. E6 Christine? Highest note in the whole production Christine? How is that a supporting role.”

And that is another matter that they should be discussing. He isn’t sure that he’ll be able to reach that note in his lifetime. But alas, he won’t be the one mentioning the issue. Not now, not ever. He gets it, now. This is a challenge. Caitlyn gave him the role because she trusts him and his prowess, bringing the matter up will only disappoint her and show her that he’s weak. And he isn't weak. He's the best actor they have.

Jayce forces a smile. It's a good one, Caitlyn will buy it. He's positive. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

The door opens with a bang and Caitlyn, just a second ago sighing in relief, groans. Viktor strides in and Jayce stares at the scene as it develops as he’d look at someone putting an egg in a microwave. In quiet horror, fully aware of the disaster that’s to come the second Viktor faces Caitlyn and opens his mouth.

“I won’t play Erik,” he says, and Jayce scoffs. Caitlyn glares his way before turning to face Viktor, not even attempting a smile. Jayce has only seen Viktor once before, when he got introduced to the rest of the cast, and he looks even worse than then, which is a mighty feat. His hair is an absolute mess and he seems unaware of what color coordination is. What color is, full stop. Viktor hasn’t even glanced his way, though, so Jayce says nothing. “I’ve hated him since I’ve been old enough to know what hate is. Can’t he play him? I’d do any supporting role, I don’t care.”

“Hang on,” Caitlyn replies, and she makes a show out of getting her phone out of her pocket, dialing, and bringing it up to her ear. “Vi? Yes, it’s me. No, I’m okay. Could you please check some files for me? Nothing happened, I just want to check if Viktor and Jayce are really of age.”

Jayce can hear Vi laughing through the phone before Caitlyn hangs up and seizes them with a withering look. When she speaks, she does so pointing at them and carefully enunciating every syllable.

“I’m saying this once and only once. You will play your parts, you will not complain about them again, and you will be grateful that I even  thought of you when casting. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” Jayce chirps in, as obnoxiously as he feels he can get away with, and Viktor huffs.

“Fine,” he says, between his teeth, and Caitlyn drags her hands down her face with a drawn-out sigh, turns sharply, and leaves slamming the door shut behind her. "Jayce, right?"

"The one and only," Jayce answers, grinning, and Viktor's expression goes from neutral to mild annoyance. Why, Jayce can't know. It's kind of offensive, kind of entertaining. "Seems like we're going to have to work together. Hope you aren't too sloppy. Not everyone can be on my level, I get that, but you have to earn your place on a stage with me."

Viktor clicks his tongue. "Right. I'm going to leave now. See you around, Carlotta."

He doesn't add anything or address Jayce further before leaving the room. Jayce doesn't care or think much of it, not until later when he's home about to fall asleep and realizes the exact implications of what Viktor had said.

-x-

Three years before joining the company, Viktor saw Jayce for the first time.

He was twenty-four then, trying to find a place in the acting world, frustrated and desperate and attempting to have at least one afternoon for himself to do something that he knew he'd enjoy. So he went to the theatre, not knowing what they'd perform, and was lucky enough to catch Frankenstein onstage.

Jayce was playing Victor, and he had never seen anyone face the role like that. There was something about him, an air of sorrow yet so much passion. He moved with so much purpose but knew when to be soft. It was fascinating, nuanced, and Viktor couldn't take his eyes off him.

And then he sang, and Viktor stared at him as he did feeling his heart beating against his chest. He had been moved before, he had admired actors before; yet never had Viktor felt so strongly as he had upon hearing Jayce's voice. It was overwhelming, how controlled and careful Jayce was when singing. The inflection, the pitch, just the right touch of emotion to elevate it instead of smothering it. He was, in a way, enamored.

It was one of the reasons why he even tried to join that company in the first place. And after three years of trying, he had time to wonder almost endlessly about how Jayce would be like. Judging by how he played Victor, he thought that he might be a complex and disciplined man. One who took his craft seriously and valued his peers. It was, as far as fantasies went, a pretty nice one to indulge in.

Viktor now knows that he shouldn't have expected Jayce to be anything but an irredeemable asshole.

He shouldn't have kept on hoping after meeting him when he got introduced to the cast and Jayce looked him up and down, scoffed and left without a word. Yet he did, and he tried to talk to him, and he got what he deserved which was a thorough letdown.

Jayce isn't aware of Viktor having met him before, after all. It's not as if Viktor has told him, or is about to now. The last thing Jayce needs is confirmation of how good an actor he is coming from the man that stole the leading role from him, to add insult to injury. Viktor can only imagine the gargantuan proportions his ego would reach if he were to tell him that his rendition of Birth to my Creation left Viktor breathless and vaguely in love.

So the second Jayce smirks and says "the one and only" with the arrogance of someone who's never faced a serious letdown in their life, Viktor is certain that he was mistaken and that he must move on and forget his fantasies at once. Jayce's next claim only serves to strengthen his resolve and though the contrast from what he imagined to the reality of Jayce is harsh and ungainly, he guesses that it's for the best as he walks into the costume department to find Vi squinting at the lapel of a suit jacket.

"Hello?" he says, uncertain, and Vi turns his way and smiles.

"Hey, Viktorino. How's it going? Is everyone being nice?"

Viktor walks her way and she slaps his back. Hard.

"It's...I'm okay. You're all great, yes. Although..." he pauses, wondering if Jayce and her are close and whether or not he can talk to her about him. Then he decides that he doesn't specially care all that much, since he doesn't have anything particularly bad to say about him besides how irritating he is. It isn't her fault, or even Jayce's, that he didn't meet his expectations. She's looking at him as if she knows what he's going to say, anyway, which is a bit unnerving. "Has Jayce always been that much of a diva?"

Vi guffaws. "It took you way too long to complain about him. Most crack during the first week. You didn't talk much, did you?"

"No, not really. Mostly only today."

She snorts, again, and holds the suit jacket in front of him, hanger and all.

"Right. He's kind of an asshole but he's a funny asshole, you know? Just...try and give him a chance. Turn around."

He turns and hums as she holds the jacket against his shoulders, then taps his back for him to turn again.

"I can try, but I don't think it'll end up well. He's not like I thought he'd be," she hangs the jacket and, alarmingly, turns to him with a knowing smile on her face. "What."

She shrugs, still smiling. "Like you thought he'd be."

Right. Viktor dodges her gaze and Vi starts laughing.

"Chill, okay? It's not as if you're the first one who got fucked up over an idealized version of Jayce. Won't be the last either, probably," she pats his shoulder and he nods, mortified but trying to avoid showing just how much. "He's my best friend, though. Has been for years. The Jaycer ain't all that bad."

She slaps his back again and winks before leading him out of the room, and Viktor would like to know in which way a man who thinks that it is proper to tell another actor that he hopes he isn't too sloppy, as if he has any right to judge anybody else's performances, isn't that bad.

After all, once deciding to give up on even trying to get close to Jayce in any capacity but the strictly professional, the prospect of getting to know Jayce the "funny asshole" is dreadful, to say the least.

His phone rings and Viktor digs it up from his pocket as he walks out of the theatre, surprised to see that Jayce, of all people, has texted him.

Jayce (company): hey were rhew fukc is the scdeipt

Jayce (company): wairt ur not vi

Jayce (company): were rhe fucki s th e script tho i need to starrt reading it liek yesterday

Viktor blinks down at his phone. Then he looks up and blinks at the cars parked in front of the theatre, and looks back down at his phone to stare at the screen, puzzled. Mildly endeared, and annoyed at himself for being so, by how awful Jayce's texting etiquette and skills are, which is alarming. Maybe a bit foolish of him to expect his crush to die down just like that.

Me: it should be in the meeting room

Me: that's WHERE I got mine from, at least

Jayce doesn't answer until that night, when Viktor is in bed leafing through the script.

Jayce (company): o fortunata non ancor abbandonata

Jayce (company): .I.

Viktor laughs despite himself, then blames it on exhaustion for his own peace of mind.

-x-

As far as Jayce is concerned, Viktor's only redeeming quality and the reason why he got the starring role instead of him is that he looks like he hasn't slept in weeks. That was, mostly, his first impression of him. A tired, unkempt, man. Barely even interesting. And Jayce had to rehearse anyway, so he left the second he saw that Viktor didn't look like much.

That might have been a mistake, he reckons, now that it's been a week since he got the script and he has to build his whole performance around both Viktor, playing Erik, and Ezreal, playing Raoul. Ezreal he knows and he can work with, no problem. Viktor? He's an enigma. Jayce hasn't seen him perform, not once. Not even during his auditions. That was Caitlyn's job, after all, not his. So he's completely in the dark and with no point of reference from which to begin putting together the puzzle of his Christine. Christian, as the script says, it's the same character either way.

He reads his lines for the first scene during the first act, over and over, holed up in one of the rooms they use to practice. He'll get to the annotations later, once he has a clue of how he's going to do this. For now, he's guessing that a sort of bland naïveté is as good a starting point as any. So he bats his lashes at no one, gazing at the middle distance in affected bashfulness.

"I don't know, sir," he says, in the most obnoxiously Victorian way he can come up with, and almost feigns a fainting fit if only to amuse himself.

"Oh, not you as well," comes a voice from the door, drawling and low, and Jayce stares at Viktor as he stands there, looking way too irritated not to be overacting and for all he can see following his lead. "Can you believe it? A full house...and we have to cancel!"

Viktor does affect a fainting fit against the doorframe, arm over the forehead and all, and Jayce refuses to smile out of principle. Viktor straightens and walks his way, script held loosely in his hand, and Jayce feels like he has to somehow justify himself. You see, this isn't really how I do things. I'm just trying to get a feel of the character. This is not me.

"I'm assuming that since you are such a great actor you don't need any help with establishing the character?" Viktor says, face inscrutable, and Jayce decides that he doesn't need to justify himself after all.

"Fuck off. How are you dealing with Erik?"

Viktor huffs, but as far as Jayce can see there's no farther emotional reaction to that. Until he frowns and kind of grimaces? Jayce thinks. And looks at Jayce in such a sour way he somehow feels inadequate.

"Insolent boy, this slave of fashion basking in your glory. Ignorant fool, this brave young suitor sharing in my triumph," he doesn't sing it as he's supposed to, he recites it. He does so looking at Jayce dead in the eye, enunciating every syllable, and every word sounds both like he's taunting Jayce and like he very much would rather be anywhere else but there.

It's an absolute mess of a register for that line. Tonally, a disaster. Specially if he's supposed to be talking to Christine. But, in a way, Jayce gets what Viktor's trying to convey.

"So bitter jackass is what you're going for," Viktor nods. Jayce is kind of pissed off. Getting his own interpretation of the character doesn't imply that he has to like it, and it's not like he has it all figured out but there's something about the situation that irks him. "You know that disliking Erik doesn't justify getting rid of the things that can make the audience empathize with him, right?"

"Why should I make the audience empathize with Erik, exactly?"

Jayce spares a second trying to reconcile himself with the idea of someone asking that question. Maybe Viktor is an entity from a world in which this play they're working on doesn't exist, and he doesn't know how it goes. Then again, he did say that he had hated Erik since, if he recalls correctly, he knew what hate was.

"Have you read the script?"

Viktor frowns and Jayce is bewildered. If Viktor gets mad at him over whether or not the audience is supposed feel sad for Erik he's probably going to end up throwing a boombox at him.

"Yes, I have. My point still stands. Why should the audience be made to empathize with Erik when the only thing he does is let himself get dragged around by his emotions, harming others while doing so, and send pointless notes."

"That's what most of the characters do. Erik is given a background for a reason. It's not like we're supposed to agree with him, just think about why he does what he does," Jayce says, and Viktor doesn't answer. He stands in front of him, staring, grimacing. "If his emotions are more out of control that those of most characters', I disagree by the way, is because he's supposed to be intense and make the audience feel his sad, anguished, fury."

"I know," Viktor says, slowly, and Jayce would love to start rehearsing and stop talking about this only no, actually, he's invested in the conversation now. He's intrigued. "What I mean is that his actions still condemn him, and those actions are driven by emotion. And what he seems to be feeling most of all is bitterness. He's bitter at Christine for having a life, the gall. He's bitter at Raoul for existing. He's bitter at the theatre's new owners for not doing things how he wants them to which is absurd, to begin with. He's bitter at Carlotta for being the prima donna instead of Christine. He's bitter at himself, but not as much as he is at everybody else. And you expect my starting point to be anything but bitter jackass?"

"That's not what we were talking about," is what Jayce has to say to that, because Viktor is making a lot of sense and he wants to be contradictory.

"Fine. They can empathize if they want, I have no control over that, but I want to play Erik as he is written. Softening him for the sake of sympathy sounds like a copout. If I play a bitter jackass and they can still empathize, that would be awful and awfully telling but a success, in a way. "

Awfully telling, he says. Yet Jayce can see, now, how his ideas make sense. He might not agree, he doesn't think he ever will because, for one, his idea of Erik differs greatly, but he can see how it can be useful to Viktor as an actor. It's interesting.

"Right. So bitter jackass it is, then."

Viktor, to his credit, doesn't seem eager to gloat or show any sign at all that he's won an argument. He merely nods and flips some pages of his script until he finds what he's looking for, then looks up at Jayce and hums.

"How's your Christine coming along?" Jayce shrugs. "We could try doing some scenes, see how it goes."

They try. Viktor is, Jayce is surprised to see, a fairly decent actor. Not as good as him, not likely to happen anyway, but they work well together. By the time Ezreal arrives and they can start getting to Raoul's scenes in depth, he has a way better grasp on Christine than he had when he first tried.

"Viktor, I want to try that line I was doing when you came in again. Ezreal, can you see if it's gonna go well with your Raoul?" he says. Viktor hums and stands in front of him. For that scene, he has to get in the mindset of someone with dreams too big for them, that's at an impasse and suddenly given a chance to get closer to what they want. It takes him a bit, to reach that mindset. There's not much that he needs, or a dream he hasn't yet conquered.

But once he feels like he can do it, he looks right at Viktor and he stares back, waiting.

Jayce dodges his eyes, then. He fidgets, looking at Viktor's chin as he loosely closes his fists and wets his lips.

"I don't know, sir," he says, and he tries to make it sound firm but trembling. A string of sound but one with purpose. It's harder than he anticipated and he kind of botches it, a little, but it's going to have to do. He looks back up at Viktor's eyes and he catches his gaze, almost unblinking.  

"That was good, I think. I can work with that," Ezreal says while walking his way, and Jayce notices with some trepidation that Viktor seems to be barely breathing. "Jayce? Hey, it was a good one. What's up."

"Him," Jayce points at Viktor and he seems to snap out of it, blinking rapidly and gasping before turning away. "You okay?"

"Yes," Viktor croaks, and Ezreal snorts by Jayce's side. "I'm fine. Got distracted is all."

"Well some of us are professionals so try to keep up," Ezreal jokes, but Jayce almost hits his smug face. Viktor just nods, waving a hand their way gesturing for them to continue as he steals Jayce's water bottle and takes a sip.

"I'll be back in a second," he leaves them with those words, and Jayce stares at the now closed door until Ezreal kicks him in the shin.

-x-

It's too early to have a phone.

It's not the most coherent thought he's had in his life, but it will have to do until Viktor's awaken properly and, hopefully, his phone stops beeping. He gropes for it, half asleep, around the bed and finds it inside the pillowcase. How it ended there, he dares not think about.

He blinks blearily at the screen. It has stopped beeping, thankfully, but he has gotten a string of messages from Jayce once again. Why can't he grasp the concept of proper texting hours is a mystery to Viktor, but it's the second time since they've met that he's done it when anybody else would've been either asleep or about to be.

Viktor refuses to read them until he's taken a shower and is dressed, sitting in his living room nursing a cup of coffee. The only real reason he can find to be that petty is that Jayce irks him in that way that things that he doesn't like but can't fully hate do. It would be nice if emotions could start making sense, Viktor would appreciate that, but it doesn't seem to be going to happen anytime soon. And anyway, if it had been an emergency he would've called. He cannot possibly be stupid enough to just text him and leave it at that in that case.

He isn't, which is a small relief.

Jayce (company): vi

Jayce (company): havde u evaer trde to hit e6 it sucs

Jayce (company): is it enve possibl?????

Jayce (company): y iou arent vi

Jayce (company): Again.

Jayce (company): See? I'm writing like a stuffy old man so you don't have to correct me

Jayce (company): fuc it its annouin

Jayce (company): can u reac e6??????? bet u cant

Jayce (company): ??????????????????????????????????????????????????

Viktor reads the texts twice, then leaves his coffee on his living room's tiny table to avoid spilling it everywhere when he starts laughing in disbelief.

Me: I can't

Me: Is this going to happen often? I don't want to know any more of your secrets

Pocketing his phone after checking the time, he leaves for the theatre without expecting an answer and, sure enough, he doesn't hear of Jayce until he arrives and finds him sitting crossed legged on the floor of one of the rooms, looking morosely  down at the script.

"Good morning," Viktor says, and Jayce looks up at him and waves. "When did you get here?"

Jayce frowns. "I don't know. A couple of hours before I texted you? Sorry if I woke you but you should've been awake by then, anyway."

If that is true, and ignoring the jab, Jayce has been there since six in the morning.

"What have you been doing?"

"Warming up. Lines. Think of Me, which is sounding quite good actually," he says, standing up, and yawns. Viktor quirks an eyebrow. "Fuck. I'm going to go over that again. You can stay if you want, you could even end up learning something, who knows."

Viktor stays, mostly out of spite. He has been amazed by Jayce's acting, he now has a very complicated relationship with that fact, and he has played along with Jayce's overacting too. Maybe that's the day he gets to hear Jayce squawk.

It isn't.

Jayce starts hesitant, as he should. He avoids looking Viktor in the eye. And slowly, steadily, his voice grows stronger. And he glances Viktor's way. And Viktor can't look away. Up until then, he was certain that he could never feel what he felt during Frankenstein again. It was a once in a lifetime occurrence. That sense of wonder, the beating of his heart against his ribcage, his own breathing stuttering. It was impossible to recreate. Yet he feels it again, and it's twice as overwhelming because then Jayce is standing right in front of him. There's nobody else in the room, there are no costumes, there's no set. The experience is raw and Viktor finds himself drowning in his own emotions until Jayce snaps his fingers in front of his eyes.

"I know I am good but you need to breath, I refuse to carry you all the way to the infirmary," he says, and Viktor bites the inside of his cheek as he abruptly comes down from his elation and crashes into the room with Jayce, notorious asshole. A funny one according to Vi, but an asshole nonetheless.

"You do carry your ego around every day," Jayce's laughter sounds as surprised as Viktor himself is to hear it, and he looks at Jayce in wonder as he shakes his head.

"That's why my back is so broad and dreamy, I reckon."

"I'm sure the spotlight's flare weighs heavily on you."

"It's almost unbearable," Jayce says, gravely, and Viktor has to fight off a smile. "You'll find me crushed under it one day and regret your harshness."

"Should I hire a troupe to sing Prima Donna to you? That should soothe your weary soul. Give you some peace."

"I'd rather you did it yourself," Jayce steps closer and Viktor crosses his arms, defensive yet unwilling to give into the temptation of stepping back. "Caitlyn spoke so highly of you, maybe that way I'll get to listen to you myself before my ego shatters me."

Viktor has been doing a great job of keeping a stern, sour, expression throughout the exchange. He's proud of it. It's Jayce's roundabout, stupid, and overdramatic way of asking him to sing that breaks him and makes him snort and ruins everything.

"You could have just asked. It would have been easier. There's no point in trying to be subtle when you're this flamboyant to begin with."

Jayce shrugs. "You laughed, kind of? I think. It sounded a lot like a sneeze but I'll count that as a victory."

Why Jayce would want to make him laugh, that's another mystery added to his whole person. He refuses to make any sense. Viktor doesn't know if he was right when he thought about Jayce during those past three years as a hardworking, serious, actor with a heart of gold. But he isn't sure if he's right about him being an irredeemable asshole either. Maybe he's neither. He seems to be waiting, in any case, for Viktor to sing.

"Fine. Any requests? I'm feeling generous."

"Whatever you want is fine. Something from the play would be nice, to see how you're going to do it," Jayce steps back then, and Viktor finds that his breathing evens out without having him so close. He hates it. So he decides that he might as well go for something mean, it's a happy coincidence that Erik has a wide repertoire of those, and takes a deep breath before he starts.

-x-

If he has to be completely honest with himself, Jayce didn't expect it to work nor for Viktor to see right through his stupid taunt. Yet he did, and he's breathing in slowly with his eyes closed. Jayce doesn't think he's warmed up, so he doesn't expect anything spectacular or for Viktor to blow his mind.

In a way, he's right. He is also incredibly wrong.

Partly because Viktor chooses The Mirror, which involves him, and Jayce sees it as a challenge. Not only because Viktor is looking right at him as he sings, it's his posture. How he starts circling him. And his voice might not be amazing, but Jayce has the dreadful thought that it's not amazing yet and that it will be when he's had the time to get ready. It's raspy, aggressive, more emotion than intonation as far as Jayce can discern in that moment. It makes Jayce want to sing back and fuck Christine's character completely by doing it in an equally cocky way.

Viktor has stopped walking and Jayce can feel his presence behind him, his breathing. There's silence, for a beat. Jayce turns, and accepts Viktor's challenge singing Christine's reply. Viktor smiles, and Jayce could swear that it's the first time he's seen him do it so openly, before answering. He's getting closer, brushing Jayce, stepping around him but just out of reach when Jayce tries to follow. Viktor's harshness makes it more vivid, and it doesn't matter so much that he isn't nailing every note. It makes Jayce feel how Christine would in that scene, in a way. Her desperate plea for forgiveness from an entity that she doesn't understand after a mishap that wasn't even hers. How she would have considered Erik to be. Frustrating, maddening, and incomprehensible. Yet alluring.

And suddenly it's over, and he's leaning into Viktor and Viktor's holding his shoulder and keeping him at an arm's distance, staring down at him. It surprises him that it developed so organically, considering that it's a scene that they've never done together. Viktor pats his shoulder once and lets go, and Jayce steps back as he mulls over the whole situation.

So maybe Viktor and him improvised a whole scene so naturally that no rehearsing was required to set the tone and make Jayce get into character. That happened. Without Viktor needing to even be in tune.

"Was it that bad?" Viktor asks, and Jayce looks up to find him frowning slightly. "I was out of tune, but it didn't seem to bother you much so I kept going."

And what is Jayce supposed to say then.

It was maybe the easiest time I've had acting with anyone in my life? That would be ludicrous. They don't know each other and Jayce kind of dislikes Viktor? Maybe? A little? He doesn't know. Viktor is dry and way too into poking fun at his ego.

He's also staring at Jayce.

"You didn't hit one note right," he says, lets his mouth run wild because he's an idiot who sucks, and Viktor grimaces. "But I guess Caitlyn was right, because it worked anyway."

Viktor smiles, again, and it reaches his eyes even though he also seems reluctant to be showing any mirth at all.

Jayce doesn't like the way his own breathing stutters one bit.

-x-

viktorino: vi, what is Jayce's deal exactly?

Me: hwo am i suposed to knww?

viktorino: you know him

Me: am not him tho????

viktorino: I don't understand him

Me: I am Caitlyn. Vi is getting more popcorn. Hello.

Me: She also says that I should be the one to handle this.

Me: I don't know why.

Me: Jayce is just Jayce.

Me: am bac

Me: caitl did a shtity job

viktorino: you think

Me: shur up

Me: lstien

Me: ust go w the flow dude

Me: youll gt him evdntually

-x-

Viktor certainly does not get him. It's been two weeks and Jayce is still an enigma that he cannot decipher. He's nice enough, yet he's still overbearing. He spends hours rehearsing by himself, trying to train himself into reaching e6, and then rehearses with the rest as if he isn't exhausted. As if they can't see the bags under his eyes or feel his frustration. Yet he keeps speaking as if he's a diva that has graced them with his presence while, at the same time, being frustratingly charming.

So Jayce is this man that is exactly how Viktor expected him to be yet the complete opposite of what he expected, both things somehow at the same time. And he has to deal with that, every single day of his life, since they work together and have many shared scenes. At least he gets to wear a cape sometimes, and can have the satisfaction of walking around with it in a dramatic fashion. Small mercies.

It's too late to be in the theatre right then. Maybe past midnight, but there was a scene that eluded him and he stayed until he felt that he had the fundamentals right. He was well and truly exhausted and only wanted to stop thinking about Jayce and leave.

And then he hears coughing, coming from a room with the door ajar a few steps from where he is, and Viktor peaks inside to find Jayce rubbing at his throat.

Fuck.

Viktor strides to the small kitchenette they all share with purpose and doesn't bother to second guess himself before he's heating water and dropping honey and lemon in it. This is, no matter how convoluted his feelings for Jayce might be, a serious enough matter for him to act without thinking. He stirs the mix as he walks back to the room and sure enough, Jayce is still inside.

He doesn't look up when Viktor enters. He's standing by the mirrored wall, looking down at his hands with a frown.

"Jayce," he says, and Jayce starts and looks at him wide eyed. "This'll help."

"Thank you," Jayce takes the cup from him and sighs. "If only I weren't so good, they wouldn't ask me to do ridiculous bullshit like reaching e6."

He laughs, but it's weak. Viktor raises a hand, puts a finger on Jayce's mouth to channel his frustration in a way that doesn't imply hitting him.

"Shut up."

Surprisingly enough, Jayce does. He smiles, nods, and drinks in silence. Viktor stays with him, if only to have something to do instead of fuming at home. He's angry at Jayce but it feels wrong to snap at him when he's obviously over-exerted himself, even if that's the main reason why Viktor wants to kick him in the teeth.

Yet, somehow, a piece of the puzzle that Jayce is falls into place and it brings a little bit of order into Viktor's chaotic idea of him. He feels closer to Jayce, which is good for work and for maybe friendship? Very bad for his juvenile attraction for him, which refuses to fade no matter how angry he gets at Jayce.

At some point, Viktor doesn't know how much time passes, Jayce leaves the cup on a speaker and gestures to the door with his head. Viktor nods, somehow reluctant to break the silence, and Jayce throws a tired smile his way.

They leave together without a single word spoken between them until Jayce gets to his car, giving Viktor's back a light pat before getting in.

"You aren't that bad," he says, more to himself than to Viktor, and then he closes the door and drives away.

-x-

There is something cathartic about staying in bed staring at the ceiling in quiet panic, Jayce thinks. It lets him ponder about how to approach the subject of him thinking that Viktor, after a couple of weeks of knowing him, isn't that bad. Perhaps even likable. Maybe. Uncertain on that.

Jayce should stop lying to himself.

He likes Viktor's dry witted humor and no-nonsense approach to things, and his rants about Erik being too emotional. It's crept on him silently, treacherously, this feeling that Viktor's someone who he likes to spend time with.

It's an awful revelation, considering that they have to work together.

Jayce grabs his phone.

Me: vi soemhing awful happende

Viktor: before you continue, I am not Vi

Never has he ever been so thankful for hesitating before hitting send before, since it was the only thing that stopped him from telling Viktor that he was a frustrating motherfucker that made Jayce question how the fuck someone could be so funny yet so stupidly coarse. Not in those many words, but almost.

Viktor: do you need any help?

Viktor: has a spotlight actually crushed you?

Jayce snorts. It sucks.

Me: yes

Me: so i tried to text vi

Me: am gfonna dei anyway so better alugh it off

Viktor: is it because she's the only one who can decipher your texts?

Viktor: you two write in exactly the same horrifying way

Me: i wrtie fast sue me

Viktor: not in your dying bed

Jayce is tempted to kick his feet like a child. He doesn't, deciding that it'd be best to get ready for work instead, but it's a close call.

After that, it's oddly anticlimactic for Jayce, when he gets to the theatre and enters the room they use to rehearse to find Ezreal and Viktor already doing a scene and think, absentmindedly, that Viktor looks good in that shirt. Being how things were going, it would have been fitting to have a dramatic revelation, he thinks.

He'd expected it to be bombastic, to blow his mind, to be loud and horrifying.

Instead of that, he just glances Viktor's way and finds him to be casually attractive.

In a way, he figures that the natural flow of it all is what makes it extraordinary.

"Hey Jayce, are you gonna join or just gape at us?" Ezreal asks, and Jayce sighs and reluctantly walks their way. "I mean, I get it. I'm very handsome."

"You keep telling yourself that," Jayse says, and Ezreal huffs but lets it slide. Viktor doesn't say anything, writing something down on his script as they talk. Somehow, he also expected a certain hyperawareness of him. So far, he's mildly alarmed he expected anything at all and that's about it. "Which scene were you at?"

"Erik's backstory," Viktor drawls, and Ezreal snorts. "I'm being his Giry until Camille arrives."

"You have the tessiture for that?"

"Not really, but it's not like I have to sing much."

"He's good enough," Ezreal pats Viktor's shoulder and Viktor hums. "Maybe a bit too mad about having to give the ghost a backstory at all. But since Giry's so stern listening to her speaking like she's mocking the ghost is funny. Challenging, also, since I'm trying not to break character and Raoul has to be like super into the whole story."

Viktor huffs. "Glad to be of service."

"Like...the accidents part? Do that again," Viktor sighs but doesn't argue. He takes a few steps the mirror's way and straightens his back, his face set in a distant gesture.

"I have said too much, monsieur," he starts, and already his voice sounds different. Detached. "And there have been too many accidents."

Ezreal gasps. Jayce has always liked how he tackles his roles, expressive and as faithful to the character as he can be. Wide eyed, preoccupied, Raoul is a good fit for him.

"Accidents?" he says, sounding properly scandalized, and Viktor seems to almost smile, yet not quite.

"Too many," Viktor says, and the delivery of the line drips so much with joyless irony that Jayce wonders where the fuck Viktor reaches to achieve that. Yet he doesn't keep the character going for long, and as soon as he's said it he relaxes his posture and walks back to where he is, with Ezreal.

"See? That line is supposed to be ironic but that? What the fuck. It was chilling and so out of character I want to hit him but I can't because it was so good," Ezreal says, pointing at Viktor, and Jayce doesn't know what to answer to that. It's true. Ezreal's right. Viktor would be a terrible Giry but there's no denying that he's good. Jayce looks his way and catches him shrugging.

"Sorry? It's how Giry feels to me. Wouldn't you be tired of someone if he kept throwing the catwalk on everybody they don't like? Or crawling around the trap room. I would. I'm guessing she is, too, just too scared to voice it. So she finds her ways."

Viktor shrugs again. Ezreal keeps pointing at him mouthing "unbelievable" even as he checks his phone and starts for the door.

"I gotta bounce, Camille is here. Hopefully she'll stop complaining about me not being properly outraged this time around."

He leaves, and Jayce is left with Viktor. Who looks good in that shirt.

Jayce opens his mouth and is saved from droning out "you look good in that shirt" by Viktor snapping his fingers in front of his eyes.

"Are you okay?" judging by his tone, it's probably the second time he's asked.

"Yes. Frustrated over that e6," Viktor hums, grimacing. "But all I can do about it is practice."

Viktor looks like he wants to add something, but he sidesteps Jayce and after a second throws a thermos his way before leaving the room without another word.

Jayce, having barely caught the thing, opens it and smiles upon finding warm, honeyed, water inside.

-x-

The first time Viktor sees Jayce when not in the theatre since they start working together, he's taking a walk through a park near his apartment and is trying to avoid thinking about Jayce. He needs a break from his own confusing emotions, some distance. At least to reconcile the highly contradictory ideas of Jayce that he has.

As his luck may have it, it's barely been ten minutes since he's set foot in the park when he sees Jayce sitting on a bench, looking out into the middle distance, with his phone cuddled in his hands and his headphones on.

Viktor looks at him while he considers his options. He could leave and pretend that he never saw him, go back home and let that be it, or approach Jayce and face the consequences. Leaving is tempting but he knows himself and he'd feel guilty afterwards for ignoring Jayce, no matter if he hadn't seen him yet, so he takes a stealing breath and walks his way.

Jayce doesn't notice his presence until Viktor sits by his side, and he blinks at Viktor and tugs his earphones off.

"Hey. You live nearby?" Viktor nods. Jayce hasn't turned the music off and Viktor can hear the part of Phantom of the Opera where Christine sings in e6 through the headphones over and over again. "I do too, kind of."

"Today, too?" Viktor points at Jayce's phone and Jayce pauses the music with a drawn-out sigh, dropping his head against the back of the bench.

"I'm so close. It's even more frustrating now that I know for sure that I can do it, only not just yet," he smiles, bitter. "But I didn't get into this business because I thought it'd be easy."

Jayce straightens then. It doesn't help matters for Viktor that he's handsome, yet he has a feeling it wouldn't have mattered either way. Him being a ridiculously hardworking yet arrogant man would've got Viktor, in the end. He's cursed.

"Why did you?"

"I wanted to be famous and I knew that I had the talent for it," Jayce shrugs. "I was aiming for Hollywood, but ended up in a theatre company performing musicals. Not that I'm complaining, I love it. Now, that is."

"You've given up on Hollywood, then?"

"What can I say," Jayce answers, and he leans close enough for Viktor's heart to skip a beat. "I rather enjoy telling you that those who have seen your face draw back in fear."

Viktor scoffs as Jayce laughs. "You would love to be able to overdramatize everything."

"Of course. Why did you get in the business?"

"My parents were actors, they showed me how it went and I liked it. It's not a great story, but it's the one I have."

"And how did you find our company?"

"You," Viktor blurts out, and almost stands and runs back home when he realizes. Jayce expression hasn't changed, though, so he guesses that in for a penny in for a pound. "I saw you perform as Victor Frankenstein three years before I joined. Itwas good. I liked it, and I looked into the company because of it."

Jayce seems genuinely happy to hear that and Viktor would like his heart to beat at a normal pace please and thank you.

"That was one of my first roles with them. And the hardest, maybe? Victor isn't easy," Jayce snorts and Viktor quirks and eyebrow. "I think. Are you easy?"

Viktor's horrified by how his skin prickles at Jayce's tone, but he hits his arm nonetheless.

"No. You were a good Victor, in any case. Hard to believe, knowing you. But you were."

"Knowing me," Jayce says, leaning farther into Viktor's space, and Viktor huffs. "You'd be a better Victor, I think. But I was already the best actor they had, and Ezreal was better as Henry."

"Camille?" Viktor asks, just to be an asshole, but Jayce doesn't bite.

"You saw her as Adam, too. It fit her like glove," Jayce is still too close for Viktor's comfort. "You think you could play Victor?"

"I could," he answers embarrassingly fast, but he's sure that he can do it for once and Jayce seems more amused than offended by it. "I like the role."

"Isn't he too emotional, too?"

"He is, but I don't see him sending notes around asking for a salary."

Jayce laughs at that, and his breathing hits Viktor's cheek, and Viktor looks at him under the shadows of the trees and for the first time finds comfort in the idea of loving him.

-x-

Ezreal is home nursing his sore throat after a particularly long and frustrating session and Jayce is alone, facing the record player with a frown because he’s never been good at practicing duets alone and he’s yet to get All I Ask of You to the level he desires.

He could try. And he does. And it’s a disaster.

“Do you...need help with that?” he starts and turns, halfway through a verse, to find Viktor standing by the door. He’s too tired to feel mortified, at least. “I can leave if you want me to. Sorry to interrupt.”

Jayce should tell him to leave but he wants help and he also wants to see if Viktor can sing Raoul. So his nodding is half morbid curiosity, half a desperate plea for help that he hopes Viktor can answer. If not, at least he’ll have a good laugh. Nothing to lose.

“Yes, sure. Can you do Raoul?”

Viktor enters the room, looking around as he walks, and hums.

“Probably better than Erik, yes.”

Jayce huffs a laugh because honestly, he’s unbelievable.

“Of course. You do love to walk around in that stupid cape, though.”

Viktor shrugs. “It adds a nice dramatic flair,” he stands by the cd player and fidgets, glancing at Jayce from under his fringe. Jayce blames the odd little jump in his heartbeat on nerves. “How are you going about this with Ezreal? Movie approach? Broadway style? Still figuring it out?” “We haven’t decided yet but we are kind of going for over the top. Seems to be what works best.” “Okay. I can do over the top. Whenever you’re ready, I warmed up before.”

Jayce takes a deep breath and nods. He mumbles "fine" between his teeth and approaches the cd player trying to shake off his nervousness. It’s just a rehearsal, one of many, and nothing else.

He starts the music. Viktor takes his hand. And he sings. And Jayce realizes just how awful an idea this was.

Jayce had begrudgingly recognized that Viktor was a good actor and singer but him as Erik is worlds apart from him as Raoul. As Erik he’s a force of nature, brash, unknowable and dangerous. As Raoul he’s tender, soft, he feels close and solid and safe and Jayce almost misses his cue because Viktor has him by the waist and is looking down at him as if he wants him. He’s afraid of his voice cracking with how overwhelmed he feels but he lets it flow and it flows clean. He lets Viktor lead him, grab him by the waist and lift him, tag on him and push him away. And when Viktor steps close and holds his hands throwing his arms around his neck and kissing him feels like the right thing to do.

Viktor freezes and Jayce panics until Viktor lets go of his hands and circles his waist with his arms sighing into his mouth. Jayce doesn’t really care about the playback anymore, his focus is on Viktor’s warmth and his lips and the way his heart is beating in his throat. His fingers grace Viktor’s hair and Jayce opens his mouth and licks Viktor’s lips until he finds his tongue. The player beeps and Jayce jumps and steps away from Viktor as a recorded voice tells them that the next song will start in four seconds.

Viktor is staring at him, wide eyed and open mouthed, and Jayce doesn’t know what to tell him or what to do about all the things he should be facing but refuses to.

So he clears his throat and avoids Viktor’s gaze as he turns the cd player off.

“That was...good. Very convincing. It’d be a good tone for the song, I think.”

“A good tone,” Viktor mumbles, and Jayce swallows. “Why...”

“I’m a professional,” he interjects, before Viktor can say anything else that implies that Jayce kissed him because he wanted to, and plasters a smile on his face before turning to look at Viktor. He looks tense, but Jayce can’t read his expression anymore. “Every adaptation has a kiss. It’s mandatory.”

Viktor stares, blinks, and all of a sudden all tension seems to leave his body and he smiles, small and queasy.

“Right. Of course. That makes sense,” Viktor nods. Jayce nods. “Want to go again?” “No!” even Jayce is offended at how fast he answered but Viktor only raises an eyebrow and shrugs. “It’s okay. I don’t want to get used to your Raoul and have to adapt to Ezreal later.” That’s...not a lie but not exactly true. He doesn’t want another ride on that emotional rollercoaster is the truth.

“I’m...going to leave, then. Good luck.”

Jayce tries not to stare at Viktor’s retreating form but it doesn’t work. He looks fixedly at his back as he walks away and can’t stop looking until he glances over his shoulder, nods, and closes the door behind him.

-x-

Maybe telling Vi what had happened during rehearsals as she's poking at him with pins in the dressing room isn't the best idea he's ever had, but Viktor feels like he has to tell someone or he'll overthink himself into a nervous breakdown.

Vi doesn't prick him but she has never laughed so much in her life, Viktor thinks. She's doubled over, gasping for air, and it takes her a while to be in enough control to breathe properly and straighten.

"If Jayce ever changes I'll be so heartbroken," she says. "I don't see what the problem is? He snogged you, then said something stupid. But he isn't being weird about it, right?"

Viktor shakes his head. If anything, he feels closer than before. It's a small comfort. Even the more so after Viktor has made peace with his own feelings.

"So what is it, then? Just grab his stupid face and kiss him back. It isn't that hard."

"I don't know if he wants me to do that," Vi snorts. "I'm serious. He could've being following the flow of the scene. Something like that."

"Oh my God," Vi's laughing again, more controlled this time, but she does slap Viktor's shoulder hard enough to make him stumble. "Why don't you ask him about it?"

Viktor blanches. Vi rolls her eyes.

"Fine, don't ask him then," she shrugs and Viktor sighs. He's way out of his element. "I told you he wasn't that bad, though. I knew you'd get on with him."

"Maybe too well, is the problem here."

"Funny assholes are so charming," Vi quips, beaming, and Viktor punches her arm softly. "But like. Honestly? If you aren't sure, just wait it out. Knowing Jayce, he'll break eventually. Knowing you, you'll pour all your feelings into your performances and make them very uncomfortable to watch. Caitlyn will be ecstatic, though."

She grimaces, suddenly, and Viktor frowns.

"What."

"Jayce is going to come crying to me about it. He's so overdramatic. He'll throw himself on a couch and start declaiming and I'll have to listen to him for hours on end. Fuck."

"Sorry?"

She shrugs. "It's his own fault. Now stay still so I don't poke you with a pin."

By the time he gets home, he's only been pinned once and he's the one to blame for jumping upon hearing Jayce enter the room, then exiting again once Vi tells him that she's fitting Viktor.

And Jayce has texted him something.

It's a video. Short. It's of Jayce himself, sitting with his back straight, and singing the part leading to the one on e6. His voice breaks and he spits "fuck" and tries again and there it is. He hits the note for maybe a full second and then his voice breaks again but Viktor has heard it. He got there. He can do it. Now it's only a matter of holding it.

Viktor's smiling so wide it almost hurts.

Me: congrats

Me: though I should tell you that I'm not Vi, just in case

Jayce: i knwo

Jayce: i wanted you t see

Viktor feels like screaming.

-x-

Jayce has many problems with Phantom of the Opera, the song, and they not only revolve around the fact that e6 is a hellish note to reach. Some of them are about Viktor.

Specifically about how he looks in full suit, cape strewn around his feet, looking at Jayce with a fire in his eyes that burns him from the inside out. And about how he sounds, mocking and raspy, voice booming as he smirks at Jayce.

If he didn’t know any better, Jayce would think that Viktor was doing this all to spite him. But this is just how he plays Erik. Gloomy but cocky as he reaches out and grabs Jayce from behind, a hand on his hip and the other on his cheek, and Jayce goes with him and struggles to keep his composure because fuck finding Viktor hot, he’s a professional. But it’s so hard when he’s forced to look up and back and they’re harmonizing and Viktor’s leaning in and over and Jayce stutters as he feels himself trying to reach Viktor’s lips.

“What the fuck are you doing,” Ezreal says, and Jayce snaps out of his reverie and disentangles himself from Viktor to step away with an awkward little cough. “Caitlyn, are you seeing this? Oh my god. Is that allowed? Are they gonna start sucking face onstage?”

“It wasn’t bad, it added some nice tension to the scene.”

“No, Ezreal’s right,” Viktor says, behind Jayce and closer than he expected, and Jayce swallows. “This is...it needs to be subtle. We set the wrong tone. Sorry about that.” Jayce almost starts laughing. It’s a close call. Sorry about that? About what? Sorry Jayce almost grabbed me by the neck and made out with me wildly because he has the hots for me? Sorry Jayce can’t control himself? Sorry I look great in costume? But Caitlyn is staring at him and Jayce stops himself before it’s too late.

“Right. We...were trying something new and it didn’t work. Sorry. Can we go again?”

He endures Caitlyn’s piercing gaze for what feels like minutes and Jayce is one hundred percent sure she can see through him and his excuses. She smiles nonetheless and nods.

“Certainly. Take it from the top and, Jayce? I get the awed amazement but please, can we get a bit of fear there too?”

And Jayce is absolutely positive, because he is at that very moment as afraid as he’s ever been of how stupid Viktor makes him, so he affects a smirk and struts into position as he shoots a “sure” over his shoulder.

-x-

They've been rehearsing for so long that there's a certain soothing cadence to going through the motions. There's still tension between Jayce and him, but they're dealing with it in a way that isn't leading to disaster. He likes to think.

He's happy about how that particular enactment of Phantom of the Opera is going. The mood is right, they're in tune, they've been harmonizing fine, they haven't botched the subtlety of it, and now all that's left if Christine's last part. And Jayce felt confident enough that day to try.

So he does.

Viktor does what he's supposed to, though he suspects that he'll never find it any easier to avoid laughing when he has to bellow at Jayce to sing for him, and Jayce sings. Viktor circles him. Tugs on him. Listens to him with his heart beating faster and faster until the moment comes and Jayce is looking at him, almost pleading, and Viktor grabs his wrists loosely as Jayce breathes and his voice flows clean.

It doesn't break, he holds it until the music fades, and then he stops and grabs onto Viktor's forearms breathing hard and fast, still staring up at him wide eyed and looking as shocked as Viktor feels.

"You did it," Viktor says, overwhelmed, and Jayce throws his arms around his neck and kisses him.

Viktor holds onto Jayce's waist and kisses back with all he's got, trying to tell him everything he can't quite put into words in a way that doesn't need any. He bites at Jayce's lips until he groans, opening his mouth and licking at Viktor's holding him closer, tugging at his hair. Viktor's heart is beating in his ears and he only breaks the kiss to breathe, refusing to step apart or let Jayce go anyway, feeling Jayce's breath on his chin.

Jayce laughs, dropping his forehead on Viktor's shoulder.

"Fuck you're hot when you sing," Viktor blinks down at Jayce's back, watching his own hands on it in quiet amazement.

"Fuck you're hot always? No, scratch that. Your ego doesn't need to get any bigger."

"Too late," Jayce kisses Viktor's neck lightly and Viktor fidgets. "Stay."

Viktor does.

-x-

Something beeps by Jayce's side and he slaps in its general direction and snuggles into Viktor's side in his bed. The thing keeps on beeping. Viktor groans but doesn't move, so Jayce sighs and sits up.

It's probably way too early to be alive. He looks down at Viktor, sleeping by him, and his stomach does a fun sort of flip that at least makes having woken up worth it. As it turns out, what's beeping is Viktor's phone and Jayce answers it out of spite.

"What," he croaks, and laughter explodes on the other end of the line. Laughter that he recognizes as Vi's. Jayce regrets everything he's ever done, from being born to answering that phone, anticipating what's to come.

"Jaycer! What the fuck!" she's still laughing, gasping for air. Viktor stirs and throws an arm over his lap and Jayce's heart clenches. "I didn't know you were so risqué. Like what if I had been his mom?"

"I would have hanged up, which is what I'm going to do now."

"Oh come on, don't be a stranger. I just wanted to ask my dearest Viktorino how he was feeling about premiering tonight but I'm guessing that the answer's pretty damn good."

She snickers and Jayce rolls his eyes. "Aren't you a riot."

"Jayce, in all seriousness," Jayce does snort, then, because when has Vi ever been serious, and she huffs. "Listen to me. I'm happy for you, okay?"

Viktor mumbles something between his teeth then, sitting up, and Jayce looks at him as he blinks blearily at the wall.

"What time is it," he drawls, and Jayce shrugs. Viktor frowns at him. "Is that my phone?"

Vi's cackling away. This could be the most embarrassing moment of Jayce's whole life, and he acts in musicals for a living.

"It's Vi," Viktor hums, leaning against his side, and Jayce holds his weight with a sigh. For all he knows, Viktor has gone right away to sleep again. "He's out."

"I meant what I said," she says, and Jayce smiles despite himself. Sitting in Viktor's bed, with his weight pressed to his side, holding him as he presumably sleeps, talking to his best friend using Viktor's phone. He feels whole. Satisfied with his life in ways unknown to him until then.

"I know."

Viktor snores, and Vi guffaws loudly in his ear as Jayce tries not to laugh himself.