#Rosy chill rosy chill rosy ch

[ocean-armin]

THUNDER

Armin x Reader

Synopsis: Armin and reader attend an Ambassadors gala together after the war, inspired by…ANOTHER Lana song :)

Tags: armin arlert x reader, post-canon, post final season/ch 139, alluding to death, shameless fluff, fem!reader if you squint (mentions of being his ‘wife’), language warning?

enjoy <3 glad to be back!

When someone says that ‘they’ll only be a minute’, do they ever really mean it?

From what you’ve experienced, the answer is no. After the Rumbling, remaining society has subscribed to thinking that they have all of the time in the world. Whether it be lingering too long in the grocery line, or goodbyes that entail chatting in the doorway when all you want to do is shut the door. Time is no longer a luxury.

You wish it was. You and Armin were supposed to have left the Ambassadors’ gala about thirty minutes ago. Armin told you that he’d only be a minute, as he had to wish everyone a formal goodbye. Placing a soft kiss to your temple and a squeeze to your hip, he rushed back to the group of other ambassadors to shake their hands. You were dismissed from your duty of ‘Commander’s Wife’ for the night; and were left to observe the long winded formalities of politicians and world-leaders, when they could just say ‘goodbye’ instead.

Now, you’ve found yourself against the doorway with your heels in hand, still nursing a glass of champagne. If there’s anything you’ve gotten good at as a commander’s wife, it’s observing your husband.

How could you not observe him? Armin Arlert has always known how to light up a room. You watch the familiar way in which his bright eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, golden strands of hair cascading into his eyes as he laughs. His cheeks still rosy with liquor, you smile to yourself. Such a lightweight. How lucky you were to call a man touched by Midas your own.

Armin’s ability to flip a switch in order to charm became evident at a young age, when you both served time in the Survey Corps. Even as a young commander, his charisma and implied innocence allowed for strategies of manipulation to come easy to him. Now, as his wife, you could distinguish this strategy from a mile away. You knew he was forcing his allure.

“Goodnight everyone, I’ll see you again at the leadership summit. Have a wonderful spring,” Armin beamed, offering firm handshakes and a final wave before he finally strode over to the doorway.

“Ready to go?” You asked, knowingly, placing your empty glass on a table. You stepped closer to loosen his tie, he nodded in response.

“More than ever,” Armin quietly murmured, taking your heels from your hands, and placing a firm hand on your lower back in return.

****

The crisp cut of the rain plummeted onto your skin as you two stepped outside, the chill aiding you to cut through Armin’s facade.

“…I know you were upset back there,” you mentioned quietly, taking his hand in yours as you walked.

“God, I thought I was better at masking it,” he groaned, giving your hand a squeeze.

“You’re pretty damn convincing, but not to me. You know that.” You smiled wearily at him.

“I know…those people are just…” he inhaled sharply, “so ridiculous.” His anger became apparent, clearing his throat as his voice wavered. “God, as much as they talk of peace and how ‘lucky’ they are, they’ll never really know, will they? They’ll never know what we went through. To lose so many people…to lose our families, to lose him.” Armin stammered.

You stopped your forward pace, standing on the cobblestone sidewalk in front of Armin to properly listen.

“They don’t, and they’ll never understand. It’s hard to watch you be so nice to them…but you’re always good at it,” you said softly, squeezing his hand in yours.

“Even worse, they’re all so fucking old! I’ve been a commander and politician since I was nineteen, fighting since fifteen! These people have been comfortable their whole lives, and they act like they’ve suffered? I’m just so fed up with being so jovial with them,” Armin’s voice cracked, wiping his eyes with the hand holding your heels.

“You don’t always have to be nice to them, Armin. They should know what you went through. For fuck’s sake, you’re a commander and ambassador at twenty-two. You shouldn’t have to be,” you hugged him. “I know it’s hard, I know I’m not the one to tell you that it’s easy to do, either. But respect and kindness aren’t the same.”

Armin’s back shook, body racking with sobs as he hugged back tightly.

“I miss him too. God, I can’t believe that people are so privileged to not experience what we have. But god, I’m the luckiest, so lucky for both of us to be alive. To love you, and to be your wife,” your voice cracked with tears. “To be able to see you actually happy, and not just the ‘Commander Arlert’ charm. To be with the real you tonight. All dressed up…sopping wet.”

Armin chuckled, hiccuping through his tears, pulling away to look at you.

“I love you, so so much. And I’m freezing out here…” he laughed, wiping his eyes.

“I love you too. Let’s go dry off, warm up a little. No more wasted time tonight,” you reach to cup his cheek, rubbing your thumb along it.

“No time with you is wasted.”

****

You act like fucking Mr. Brightside when you're with all your friends,

But I know what you're like when the party ends . . .

You roll like thunder, pouring all your drinks

The party's lit and you, my friend, half-cut when it begins

You roll like thunder, you're tryna catch that wind

That lightning in the bottle, that moonbeam in your hand

And you try to see the bright side when each new day begins,

But you're not satisfied at the rainbows end.

[drustvar]

Ch. 19: Sanguis Pecunia

Sanguis Pecunia - The Latin phrase for "Blood Money". Do the answers lay waiting in the undercity? Or is an even darker secret waiting to be revealed?

WC: 3.1k A/N: WHOOOOOO guess whose back baby. Well, maybe. IDK what happened that my drive for this went on a very long vacation; blame it on working full time I guess. Here's hoping I can get back into the groove of things! Ao3 Link in Reblog || Full text under cut

The Vesuvian underground was a completely different world from the one above. Devoid of sunlight or warm breezes, replaced with a cold and damp darkness that Rosie felt threatened to swallow her and Julian up as they made their way through the tunnel. Like a ship in a storm, their only guidance was a single beam of light from far on the horizon. It grew brighter the closer they got, and the louder the sounds of a busy market became. The familiar sound felt both reassuring and chilling. “So you say you were on the VIP list, what exactly does that mean?” Rosie asked as she paused to carefully step around a large pothole. “Very Important Person-” “I know what that means,” Rosie laughed and headbutted his shoulder.

“Ah, yes of course. Well, in this case, it's really just that I was on good terms with a number of merchants and happened to spend a good deal of coin in the markets here. Back during the plague,” his gaze became distant as he continued, “There wasn’t always time to waste on gentler treatments, and many of the city’s official trade routes had shut down completely. Very often there was no choice but to go underground in order to get what was effective. Or at least… somewhat effective. We really were trying anything and everything. Just uh, throwing whatever we had at the wall to see what could work,” he said. Rosie squeezed his hand as he began to rattle off a list of contraband. “Forbidden Loch leeches-” 

“Leeches were forbidden?” That seemed to go against almost everything Rosie knew about humor theory. 

“No, no, Forbidden Loch leeches. It’s an insulated loch from a land far to the west, which is said to be quite treacherous to reach. They seemed to have antiseptic properties, unlike any other species, and as such were in quite high demand at the time. Oh, careful dear, mind the ledge,” He held her steady as he guided her down the crumbling incline. “It really was incredible the things you could find down here. There were rumors that one of the vendors even had a supply of real Alicorn, able to purify any poison into fresh spring water. Was never able to find them though. Sometimes it kept me up at night wondering if perhaps that could have been the key…” he shook his head, looking equal parts discouraged and equal parts embarrassed to have ever hoped for the answer to have been so simple. “Ah, well. We’re on the hunt for something different now, aren’t we?” 

They stood at the end of the tunnel, half in shadow and half lit by the hazy red lights of the market. Rosie glanced up at him, taken in by how the light played sharply off his features and shimmered in his hair, turning it from auburn to crimson. She couldn’t tell if the way his dark eyes glittered when he glanced at her was another trick of the light, or from something else that made her heart flutter. “I wish we weren’t,” Rosie said as she leaned against him. “God, how I wish we weren’t. I wish we didn’t need to be hunting for scourges, or answers, or any of this shit. Wish there wasn’t a sword danglin’ over our heads.” 

Julian made a sympathetic noise as he brushed a stray curl out of her eyes. “Ah, my dear, if wishes were horses we beggars would ride.” He said as he gently cupped her cheek. She longed to feel his skin against hers again instead of the cool leather of his gloves. “Who knows, perhaps this ‘Scourge’ Asra spoke of is just around the corner?” It was unlikely,  but what else could she do but hope? Even still, she couldn’t help but think back to the discussion she had had with Asra earlier. She knew he’d never send her into harm’s way, but Julian? The way Asra had spoken about him made her think Asra wouldn’t be above it. The thought that they would be so careless about someone, about someone she loved, made her queasy. 

“No use dawdling back here in the tunnel,” Julian’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Let’s be on our way-”

“Wait!” She grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back just as he had stepped out into the hazy red light of the market.  “Pulling me off into the shadows already?” He asked, a brow raised as a toothy grin spread across his face. “I’d heard the red market can have that effect on people, but we only just got here-”  “Be serious,” Rosie hissed as her eyes darted around. Despite there being a stall with patrons gathered around it just a stone's throw away, nobody had seemed to notice them. “You cannae just walk out there, someone will see you!” “Oh, is that all?” He almost sounded disappointed. “Rosie, I told you I used to be a regular down here. These people knew me.” “That was then and this is now-” “This market is underground for a reason, dearest. Almost everything that goes on down here breaks a law in one way or another. Believe me, it's on nobody’s agenda to have the place swarming with guards.” 

“Do you really think nobody’s tongue can be loosened by gold?” Her voice took on a hoarse and desperate hiss. “Have you any idea how high the bounty on your head is?” “I…well, uh, well I assumed there was one of course, but I've tried not to look at any of the wanted posters for too long. It uh, I’ve found it only puts me in a worse state, if you can believe that’s even possible.” 

Rosie started to rummage through her bag before she pulled out a crumpled ball of paper. She smoothed it out and handed it to him. “Well look.” 

Although the paper was warped from the elements and from being crumpled at the bottom of a bag, the words were still very clear:

“WANTED - JULIAN DEVORAK.  12,000 GOLD REWARD FOR THE MURDER OF COUNT LUCIO PROSPERO AND EVASION OF ARREST  STILL AT LARGE - MAY BE ARMED AND DANGEROUS.  BY ORDER OF COUNTESS NADIA SATRINAVA-PROSPERO; MUST BE APPREHENDED ALIVE TO BE ELIGIBLE FOR REWARD.”  This notice takes the place of all previous notices. Contact Consul Valerius Sergius Latinus or Local Guards station with information.”

In the very center was a portrait of Julian; though it truly looked nothing like him. The man on the wanted poster looked wild and cruel. Julian stared down at it in silence for a long moment.

“You know, on every one of these I’ve ever seen, they’ve never gotten my nose right.” Despite his joking words, there was no laughter in his voice.

Rosie snorted. “That’s the last of our worries.”

“Twelve thousand gold…they really think I’m worth that much?” He let out a sharp laugh. “I remember very well how Lucio ran the economy of this city into the ground, I seriously doubt the court even has that much left.” Rosie shrugged. “Countess is from Prakra, isn’t she? They’ve got money. I’m sure the Prakran Queen is willing to toss a few thousand gold Vesuvia’s way to at least make it look like she cared about her late son in law.”

“I really can’t get over the drawing. It’s almost offensive. I knew the Consul never liked me but my goodness-” “Julie,” Rosie laid a hand on his arm. “Do you understand what I’m sayin’ now?” Rosie could remember how not too long ago the wanted posters had been different—how before the Countess had awoken from her coma it had been under Consul Valerius’ order, and how instead of ‘WANTED - ALIVE’, it had read ‘WANTED - DEAD or ALIVE’.  It was very, very clear to her which one the Consul would have preferred. She’d torn down every poster she had come across, but she was sure dozens were still floating around. “We cannae afford to be so careless.” 

“You keep saying we,” his voice was much quieter when he spoke again. “Not that I, uh, don’t appreciate the sentiment. But it’s only me who has twelve thousand gold on his head. If I had paid attention…I’d have never-” 

“Now you stop that right now,” Rosie said as she pressed a finger to his lips. “I didn’t show you that to make you feel guilty, I did it to prove a point.” She continued, ignoring the light flush that had spread across his cheeks. “We’ve got to be smart about this.” 

“Well, I mean, you could always cast another spell, like when we were at the Palace. But I don’t know if that’s the best idea, it took a lot out of you, didn’t it?”

Rosie hesitated before nodding. “Illusions are complex, an’ I’m no illusionist.” “Then that’s off the table. I don’t want you burning yourself out on me, especially not here. You never know what uh, what kind of trouble there is down here that would need magick-ing out of. Not that I plan on us getting into anything that would require magick-ing out of, mind you, but-” “Hold that thought,” Rosie said as she began to rummage through her bag again. 'Amaranth, surely I still have some Amaranth,' she thought as she dug. “Here we go,” she said as she pulled out a rather battered looking, burgundy colored sprig. Julian raised a brow in question. 

“Amaranth is the key component in invisibility charms and spells,” she explained. “I dunnae have the reagents left for a full invisibility charm, but this should work for a quick ‘never-mind-me spell’ .” She took his hand in hers, the sprig sandwiched between their palms as she began to mutter under her breath. Julian watched in awe as for a moment the ring of color around her pupils flared a glowing gold color in the hazy light. “There we go! Hopefully, that will work for now-”  “Your eyes,” Julian interrupted as he tilted her jaw up to look closer. “What about them?” 

“They were glowing! Since when do they do that?” “Oh,” Rosie laughed, reaching up to lace her fingers in his. “That’s nothin’ special. Happens when anybody uses magic.” 

“Nothing special?” Rosie let out a surprised squeak as he wrapped an arm around her waist and swept her around. “Rosie my dear, that’s incredible! Never seen anything like it in all my days. Ah, and the way you so easily bend the fabric of reality with a simple stalk of grain?” He grinned and leaned closer. “It’s intimidating.” 

“Intimidating?” Rosie laughed and lightly tapped his nose with one of her nails. “If you think that’s anythin’ special you should see what I can do with a proper supply o’ herbs and a cauldron.”

“Ah, to be able to learn from you… what secrets could I unlock?  What wonders could I do for patients if I could only absorb an ounce of your magic touch,” Julian had sunk to his knees as he spoke, resting his head against her hip and looking up at her with the adoration of the sun and the hunger of a starving dog. 

Rosie smiled wryly and traced his jaw with her nail. “Thought you didn’t like magic? Gave you the heebie-jeebies.” 

“Well, perhaps I, uh, I’m warming up to the idea.” His voice became slightly pensive as he hugged her thigh. “You make it less unnerving. You make, uh, well you seem to make lots of things less frightening, as it were.” 

“You’re just saying that because you haven’t seen me really angry yet,” Rosie laughed as she petted his hair. “You’d change your tune if you saw me hex someone, I’m sure.”

Julian mumbled something indistinct as she pulled him back to his feet and cautiously led the way out of the tunnel. As much as she would have liked to stay hidden in the shadows, doing so would get them no answers. Perhaps with any luck, there would be time later for him to soliloquy and sing her praises as much as he wanted. 

The pair hugged the wall closely as they crept through the smoky haze that swirled throughout the marketplace. Rosie’s eyes darted around as she tried to take in everything; for a supposedly secret underbelly it seemed just as crowded, if not more so, than some of the markets above ground. A sea of chatter only broken up by the occasional clinking of coins and the breaks formed by the dozens of stalls selling strange wares. 

“Look there,” she nodded at a small stall filled with watery, croaking jars. The vendor had hung a small banner advertising a sale on Twilight Dreamfrogs. She had read in a bestiary once that they were only found in the cold, far southern ranges of the continent. 

“The frog seller?” 

“Those frogs come from the South,” Rosie said as she took one last glance up and down the narrow path before stepping out into the low, scarlet light of the street lanterns. “I’d wager if anyone might know anything about some ‘Scourge of the South’, it might be him.” “Good thinking, my dear,” Julian said as he patted her arm and stepped around her. He drew himself up to his full height; imposing and authoritative, before he snapped his fingers to get the vendor’s attention. “You there! You heard anything about the Scourge of the South?” 

“The fighter?” The vendor hardly glanced up at them as he ladled a glowing, writhing mass of glowing worms out of a barrel and into a jar. The sight of it made Rosie’s stomach turn. “Of course. He spilled more blood up there in the ring than anybody before or after. Old Lucio was never able to find a replacement worth half the Scourge’s salt.” 

“So he was a gladiator? And I take it he was the Count’s favorite, eh?”

“He was everyone’s favorite,” the vendor scoffed as he tightened the lid of the worm jar. “He was undefeated. Any poor bastard who got thrown in with him didn’t have a chance in hell of making it out alive.” He paused while drying his hands, narrowing his eyes at the pair. “You two aren’t from around here, are you?” 

Rosie could tell the vendor’s patience was waning. She thanked him for his time and led Julian away, thankful to no longer be near barrels and barrels full of worms, or suspicious eyes. However, as soon as they had stepped away, another merchant waved them over. 

“Frog man over there’s only half right,” the woman said from under her hood, as she casually rearranged a set of small, humanoid skulls. “The Scourge was no ordinary fighter. He was an executioner. Rumor was that if you got on the Count’s bad side, you had a good chance of meeting the Scourge up close and personal.” She laughed and shook her head. “But that was long ago. Scourge is long gone, just like his master and the plague, hm?” 

The woman’s eyes glowed from under her hood, a bright, unnerving shade of blue. Julian and Rosie awkwardly laughed along with her. “So he died in the plague?” Rosie pressed.

The bone dealer shrugged as she poured teeth into a small leather pouch. “Who can say? No one knows for sure, except that one day he just vanished. Maybe he got wind that people were tired of seeing him always win, wanted to get out before the tables turned on him. Now,” The woman said as she pushed back her hood, revealing a deathly pale, moon-shaped face and waves of dark hair. “You two gonna buy something? Bones? Furs? I’ve got a special on goat’s blood, that always comes in handy, you know.” 

The pair exchanged a look, silently agreeing that her question had only one right answer: rumors weren’t free.

|||||

“So we’re looking for an executioner,” Julian said as he pocketed the bag of teeth they’d been more or less strong-armed into buying as they continued down the path. “Think he’s trying to say something with that?” 

“In all fairness, this is a murder we’re investigating,” Rosie said as they came to a crossroads. “I dunnae think Asra would send me to find someone who would wanna hurt me. Don’t know about you, though.” 

“Fair point, I suppose. Well, uh, aside from that, I’m sure there’s got to be a reason he’s told you to track down Lucio’s former personal executioner,” he paused, his gaze drifting down one of the paths to where a shadowy, ramshackle building stood. From where they stood they could see a sign that read ‘The Jagged Dagger’, hanging off of some rusted hooks. Raucous laughter and faint, tinny music drifted from inside.

“Well, what do we have here?” Julian started towards it, only stopping when Rosie caught his sleeve. 

“We’ve no time for detours.” 

“Ah, but my dear, we’re looking for the Scourge of the South, no?” Julian grinned and easily pulled her off balance and into his arms.  “And wouldn’t it seem that this path just so happens to be leading south?” 

“No, I’m pretty sure this path leads west.” 

“My dear, don't you remember my story about my days aboard a pirate’s ship? Surely, you can’t think my sense of navigation has atrophied that badly. Besides, who knows who we might find in there? Could be former fight promoters, maybe some former gladiators if we’re lucky-” he was interrupted by a loud crash from inside the pub, and a moment later a shiny, glass eye rolled out of the door in front of the pair, followed by a weathered looking sailor stumbling after it. He grabbed for his lost eye and shot a poisonous sneer in their direction as he immediately turned on his heel and went back inside.

“Seems a lovely place,” Rosie snorted. Julian seemed undeterred. 

“Now this is my kind of place,” Julian grinned. “I’d bet if nothing else there are some diehard Scourge fans in there-”  “I’m sure there’s plenty of shady folks in there who’d gladly sell you out, too,” Rosie said as she crossed her arms. “Even so, I have confidence in your spell work! And, uh, well, you’ve been looking a little frail since you cast that spell on me, we could both use a drink.  Something to eat too, have you eaten? You should.  Besides, I just can’t  pass on a chance to get rowdy.” 

Rosie looked at the tavern and then back to him. There was another crash from inside, followed by uproarious laughter.

“Alright,” she sighed, unable to resist his puppy-dog eyes. “But if things get ugly in there, you stay behind me and let me handle it, got it?” 

“Oh, yes ma’am.” He practically swooned as he followed after her. She paused, just in front of the loose hanging door to glance back at him. “Let’s get rowdy.” 

[flywolfwriting]

TMITDE Ch 16

Lucifer still sat in the chair previously occupied by his daughter, head in his hands, when Alastor left to go find her. Lucifer had offered, but both Hartfelts insisted it would be best for her adoptive father to bring her home. Lucifer knew Alastor was hurt by her words no matter how well he hid it, but he trusted the man - despite learning such a terrible thing about him.

Rosie began clearing their plates, half-eaten dinner already growing cold. Lucifer looked up. “Oh, let me help with that,” he said, jumping up, only to be stopped in his tracks by a firm look.

“Now what kind of host would I be if I allowed you to work? You sit right there and relax.”

Her tone was so firm Lucifer hastily obeyed without even a token argument.

“What would you like to drink?”

Lucifer blinked at her. “Oh um,” he paused. He'd been about to say ‘water,’ but given the night's events, and that it wasn't likely to get any better, he said, “I'm sure Alastor has some of that good Rye somewhere; I'll have a couple fingers of that, if it's no trouble?”

Rosie’s eyes glittered and for some reason Lucifer felt he'd said something wrong. “No trouble at all, darlin’!” She said cheerfully, quickly pouring him a drink and placing it before him. “You two been friends long?”

“Erm, I don't know the correct answer to that,” he said. “I don't want to end up dead.”

She laughed. “Oh I won't kill you, silly! The correct answer is the truth.”

He eyed her. “No offense, ma'am, it's not you I'm worried about.”

Rosie paused her washing and turned to look at him, her sharp smile sending a chill down Lucifer’s spine. “You should be,” she said sweetly, and it was eerie how much she sounded like Alastor had earlier that night. “Alastor is not the only killer in this house, and I specialize.”

Two. There's two serial killers in New Orleans, and nobody knew. Lucifer swallowed hard. Took a drink. Drummed his fingers on the table. And I'm sitting in their fucking house. Willingly.

“If I wanted to leave, would you let me?” Lucifer asked.

Rosie's smile returned to a more genuine look. “Oh of course I would, sweetie. Alastor says you don't belong on the List, and he does his research. Besides, if he planned on killin’ ya he would have done so by now.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Lucifer asked wearily. “Surely it would be better for me to know as little as possible.”

“I suppose.” Rosie turned back to the sink. “I don't think you're going to turn us in.”

Lucifer sighed. She was right. He should. The police would believe him, and he'd get his daughter back - and in the process he'd probably lose her. Even if she escaped the law itself he didn't think she would forgive him for sending the people who raised her to what was sure to be a death sentence.

They were quiet for a while, Lucifer sipping his Rye while Rosie finished the dishes and settled across the table with her knitting.

“Soooo,” Lucifer said, deciding to ask about something that has been nagging at him. “Al said your marriage was one of convenience.”

She smiled up at him. “It is!”

“You don't… love each other?”

“Of course we do!” Rosie said without hesitation. “In our own way. Alastor is my best friend. The only constant in my life - until Charlie came along - and I would be absolutely devastated if something were to happen to him. We may not love each other romantically, but we will do anything to protect our family.” She looked up at him, serious as the grave. “Anything. Even if it means breaking our rules.”

Lucifer took a deep drink to hide his nervous swallow. “Rules?”

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[stardustbarbarians]

Cirice

Chapter 2 (ch. 1)

A Daniel Wagner / fem!reader series

Summary: You wanna deal with The Devil? You gotta live with it when he sets you on fire.

Tags: Demon!Daniel, angst

A/N: No trigger warnings this time around! This is probably going to be one of the softer chapters I publish for this fic. Just a head's up, it gets darker from here on out. Title taken from Cirice by Ghost. Dedicated to the lovely @samkooszka <3. Please enjoy reading!

Words: 3.6 k

+++

It only occurred to you the next morning that you failed to ask the demon when Jake’s hand would be repaired. You had been sipping your coffee and looking out the kitchen window above your sink when it struck you, slamming your mug down on the counter in frustration. Your annoyance only increased when you realized that you had spilled coffee everywhere and you would be the one having to clean it up. With a huff, you flick the liquid off your hands and rinse them off, grabbing a paper towel and wiping up the spilled drink. 

Checking the time, you realized that you were late in picking up Jake for his physical therapy. While he technically could drive himself, he hadn’t wanted to since his accident. None of you or the boys had wanted to push him into driving, so all four of you took turns driving him. And while your turn had been yesterday, you were doing Sammy a favor by taking in Jake. Rosie had a vet appointment so you offered to take his turn. 

Rushing with throwing on some clothes and shoes, you grab your keys and a coat and jog out to your car. As the engine roared to life, you startled as the radio jumped alive with the sound of Mick Jagger’s singing. 

Just as every cop is a criminal

And all the sinners saints

As heads is tails

Just call me Lucifer

'Cause I'm in need of some restraint

You shook your head and punched the off button on the radio. Of course the song was Sympathy For The Devil because why wouldn’t it be after what you had done last night? Even though the song had ceased filtering through your car speakers, it caused you to think about what you’d done. There was someone out there - whom you may or may not know - that just had half of their soul removed from their body. If removing a soul all at once was enough to instantly kill, what would happen to someone who had half of it taken away? Would they get sick? Would they go into a coma? Oh god, was there now someone hospitalized because of you?? 

That was all that consumed your mind as you made the drive over to Jake’s. It seemed as though your anxiety was on a loop of itself, repeating the same concerns over and over again. It would’ve convinced yourself that you were a bad person if you hadn’t already believed yourself to be. But, recently you have been trying to better yourself. There was a reason you had been willing to sacrifice your soul to the devil for Jake’s dreams. 

When you pulled into Jake’s driveway, you didn’t even need to call him to let you know you arrived. He came bounding out of his house and right up to your car. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t startle you slightly see him so excited. It had been months since he had been anything close to genuinely happy, so your surprise was a pleasant one.

When he reached your car, he pulled on the handle and then knocked on the window when he couldn’t get in. Snapping back into yourself, you press the button and he immediately yanked it open. A blast of cold air sent chills over your body as Jake slid into the front seat, slamming it closed behind him. His eyes were bright as he beamed excitedly at you; reminiscent of a child on Christmas morning. 

“Good morning, Jakey. You look chipper,” you greet, pulling your jacket tighter around you after you shivered. 

“Y/N, you’ll never fucking believe it. Last night - just out of the goddamn blue - my hand started to feel better. I haven’t felt like this in months and I just decided to throw caution to the wind and pick up my guitar; I played Highway Tune and I felt no pain. Then I just said ‘fuck it’ and went for The Weight of Dreams… I played it perfectly! I-I don’t know what’s going on… but I’m not going to look a gift horse in the fucking mouth. It’s some kind of… of miracle.” Jake exposited, his left hand stretching and flexing as he spoke on its own volition. There was disbelief lacing his words, amazement in his eyes and smile. When he concluded, he looked down at his once broken hand and watched himself flex it. 

You could feel yourself deflate with relief, your posture becoming less rigid as he shared with you the good news. It was only until he smiled up at you that you realized you failed to react to him. Schooling your face, you tried your best to look surprised. “Jake, that’s incredible!” 

You saw his smile dim at your words. You had never been a great actress. 

“Y/N… did you-?” 

Your heart pounded as he gazed at you so deeply with those soft brown eyes of his. The last time he had gazed at you like that, there were a lot less clothes on either of you and both of you were sweating-

“Y’know what? I don’t want to know what you did. Just… thank you. Thank you so fucking much,” he gently grabbed your hand with his newly fixed one, “you gave me my dream back.” 

You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt a tear roll down your cheek. Smiling, you kissed his hand in yours, wiping away your tear with your free hand. “Anything for you, Jakey.” 

You weren’t expecting him to pull you into a hug, but you also weren’t gonna complain. It was a tight one, but it was his way of showing his appreciation. The longer you embraced, the more you wanted to cry. You had to pull away after a moment, the tears stinging your eyes. 

“Alright, we’re gonna be late for your physical therapy,” you remind him, a watery laugh escaping your lips. 

“Oh, shit!” he exclaimed before running back into the house. He emerged a moment later with his guitar case in hand and a huge smile on his face as he hoisted it up for you to see. You couldn’t help but laugh at him, fond of actions. 

You popped the trunk of the car for him, shivering once again as the mid-winter air filtered into your car. 

“I kinda need this,” he commented with a smile before closing the trunk. 

“Have you told the boys yet?” you asked, putting the car in reverse after he buckled into the seat. 

“Not yet. I wanted to surprise them tonight over dinner.” 

You nodded as you kept your eyes on the road, turning the radio back on. 

“You’re coming too, babe. Just try and keep it a secret until then, alright?” 

That brought a smile to your face. You had thought that you were going to be included, but you also weren’t going to just invite yourself. You were so glad that you would be there to see all of Jake’s brothers have not only their careers back but Jake himself. It was clear that - even from your minimal interaction today - that he was back to his normal self. For the rest of the day, you forgot about that soul you squandered away. With Jake back to his normal self, it seemed entirely worth it. You’d suffer any and all torment hell would bring to you just to keep him smiling like that. 

+++

You had spent the day with Jake after his physical therapy. Due to his “miraculous” recovery, that was his last appointment he ever had to go to. After that finished, you two went to the grocery store in order to get supplies for the meal you would serve later that night. It was while you were browsing the produce aisle that you sent out the details for tonight out in the groupchat. Each of the boys responded by the time you checked out, surprisingly. It would often take them hours to respond if you were lucky and a few days at the latest. It was quite infuriating, but you had gotten used to it over time. 

“They all said they’re coming,” you informed Jake, looking over to him as he looked back and forth between different cloves of garlic. 

“What about Mackenzi? Is she coming too?” You didn’t miss the hesitance in his voice as he asked after Danny’s girlfriend. While you hadn’t been friend’s with Danny for nearly as long as the Kiszkas had, you did know that he was at his happiest when he had spent a long period of time away from her. She wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around; she always acted like she was better than everyone around her and wasn’t friendly towards you in particular. 

You looked back at the groupchat to double check Daniel’s message. “He just said ‘cool, I’ll be there’. So, probably not.” 

Jake nodded, placing one of the garlic cloves in the cart before pushing it towards another section. You were sure you weren’t meant to hear it, but under his breath you swear you heard him say “thank god”. It seemed you weren’t the only one who wasn’t a fan of Mackenzi. 

+++

Despite not being the best in the kitchen, you tried to help Jake where you could. He was thankfully patient with you as you fumbled your way around, asking for help when you needed it. 

“Jake! What do I do after chopping up this… what was it called again?” you ask, embarrassed at how whiny you sounded. But, you were overwhelmed by the sheer amount of what you didn’t know that it made you nearly want to burst into tears at times. 

“That’s green onion,” Jake gently informed, chuckling as he wiped his hands off on some paper towel. You felt your stress slightly fall as he smiled at you, making his way towards where you stood at the counter. 

“Of course it’s called green onion. It’s green and smells like onions,” you lamented, setting your knife down and holding your head in your hands. They smelled like onions. 

With another fond laugh, Jake gently pulled you into his arms. You didn’t move your hands as he wrapped you in an embrace, but you did rest your head against his shoulder. He placed a tender kiss on your forehead; you could feel the smile on his lips. “You’re doing great, love.” 

You tried to ignore the way the close proximity and the pet name made your heart jump. With a sigh, you pulled away and took a deep breath in order to calm your stress. You opened your eyes to see him smiling at you. He tucked a hair behind your ear, the look in his eye changing to something more… lustful. 

“You look lovely,” he purred, his hand lingering on your jaw. 

“Jacob?” 

“Yes?” 

“Your garlic is burning,” you inform him, tipping your head to point at the skillet on the burner. 

Turning his head and sniffing the air, he ran towards the stove. “SHIT!”

Laughing fondly, you go back to your green onions to chop up a few of the pieces that were on the bigger side. However, you were interrupted by a knock on the door. Looking over at Jake struggling with his garlic, you set your knife down and went to answer the door. 

“Hey, y/n! I wasn’t expecting to find you here yet,” Sam exclaimed as you opened the door. He pulled you into a hug after taking his jacket off, the smell of cigarette smoke filling your nose as he did. 

“Is that Sam?” you heard Jake call out from the kitchen. 

“Yeah-”

“Sammy boy! Get in here! I need your help!” Jake cut you off, his voice loud as he shouted. 

You and Sam shared a long-suffering look before he slipped his shoes off and grabbed the wine he had set down on the floor to bring into the kitchen. “He seems better.” 

“You have no idea.” You absently run your thumb over the bandage you wrapped around the hand you cut open for the ritual. 

You two walked into the kitchen, the smell of food cooking making your mouth water. Noticing your presence, Jake looks over his shoulder and smiles at you. He silently motions for his brother to join him by the stove with a tip of his head. Sighing, Sam passes the wine he had in his hand off to you, asking if you would put it in the fridge. 

Just as you had put the wine away, another knock on the door resounded through the house. Not even bothering to wait for Jake to ask, you walked back towards the front door. This time, you opened it to see the last Kizska brother at the door. 

“It’s cold as balls out there!” Josh exclaimed, pushing past you and into the house. “Hi, y/n!” 

His smile was huge as it usually was, shaking his head to get the snow out of his curls. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack before pulling you into a tight hug. “Hello, Joshie.” 

“So… how’s Jake doing?” he asked as the two of you walked towards the kitchen. There was concern filling his eyes that he attempted to hide with a smile. He didn’t do a good job, however. You could tell how nervous he was. 

“Well, I’m not the one who should tell you. But there’s a surprise at the end of the night that Jake wants to share with you guys,” you answer as you round into the kitchen. 

Josh’s smile got brighter after you spoke, the worry draining out of it. Josh didn’t even bother walking over to greet his brothers, just jumping up to sit on one of the far counters. He reminded you of a bird, the way he perched and observed the world around him. 

“Hey,” Jake and Sam both absently greet their oldest brother, consumed with preparing the meal. Josh didn’t seem bothered by his luke-warm welcome. He was used to his brothers getting lost in their cuisine. 

The minutes passed as Sam and Jake cooked, the four of you all having a good time in the kitchen. While you enjoyed yourself, there was something in the back of your mind that told you something was off. Glancing at your phone, you realized that Danny was almost half an hour late. Your brow knit at the realization, concern flooding your veins. 

“Hey, Sam, do you know if Danny said he was gonna be late?” you ask, walking up closer so he could hear you over the music playing over the speakers. 

“Why do you guys always ask me about Danny, huh? It’s not like we’re attached at the hip,” he griped, chopping another bit of green onion. Loud and sharp chops! cut through the air as his irritation took over. 

All three of you gazed at the youngest Kiszka, all of you having the same look of disbelief and doubt on your faces. Sam turned around to see everyone shooting that look at him, his face turning slightly pink at the attention. He haughtily returned to chopping, refusing to look at you all. 

“He mentioned that he would be a little late.” Sam finally relented, knowing that he was, in fact, the first to be informed about Daniel’s whereabouts and any new information from Daniel. None of you pressed for more despite knowing there was more to that story than Sam was telling. So, you all let it go and continued on. 

Right as you and Josh finished setting the table, you heard a knock. Sharing a look with Josh, you made for the front door. When you became the goddamn doorman, you had no idea. 

“Danny! You made it! How-” you stopped yourself short as you saw how red and puffy Daniel’s eyes were. He gave you a weak smile, his eyes glittering as he stepped into the light of the vestibule. 

“Hey, y/n,” he greeted, his tone watery and breakable. Your chest ached immediately at the sight, fighting the urge to pull him into a tight embrace and never let him go. 

“Are you ok? What happened?” you asked, tucking a loose curl behind his ear. Danny flinched away from the touch, his hand coming up to push yours away. 

“I’m… I’m fine. I’d rather not talk about it right now.” And with that, he quickly walked over to the bathroom. You heard the door slam behind him, your brow becoming creased as your concern for him doubled. 

Quickly making your way into the kitchen, you grab Sam by the shoulder and drag him away from Jake, the bassist whining the entire time. 

“Sam, shut up for fuck’s sake! I need you to do me a favor-”

“Oh, you want me to do something nice for you after you manhandle me-” 

“Daniel is crying in the bathroom right now,” you gritted out, pulling Sam’s ear close to you to keep your tone quiet. 

Instantly, Sam’s expression changed. All of the color drained from his face as he looked at you with wide eyes. “He what?” 

“I need you to go check on him for me,” you requested, knowing that if Danny was willing to talk to anyone, it was Sammy. 

“Of course. I’ve got this,” he rushed, all but sprinting down the hall to the door that sequestered Daniel behind it. 

While Sam handled Danny, you kept the twins distracted so that they wouldn’t ask any questions. While you knew that this was a matter that you should’ve included them in, you didn’t want to worry them too much. You just hoped that Sammy would be able to comfort Danny in the way he needed to be. 

+++

Dinner had been served, but Daniel and Sam didn’t emerge from the bathroom until most of the contents of your plate were eaten. You and the twins had made normal conversation, but the entire time it had been weighed down by the obvious fact that there was something going on with Daniel that none of you could assist him with. When the pair finally came to join the dinner table, the air changed immediately. 

As Sam guided Danny to his chair, a reassuring arm wrapped around his shoulders, there was an unadulterated rage burning fiercely behind his eyes that was barely contained. Danny avoided all eye contact, his head hanging in order to hide his sorrow stained eyes. Right when the bassist sat down, you caught his eye, silently asking him if Danny was alright. Clenching his jaw, Sammy subtly shook his head no. 

Josh cleared his throat, taking a sip of wine before offering rhythm section to serve them their dinner. Sam glanced at Daniel briefly before accepting. You and Jake shared a look, worry written all over both of your faces. 

“Do you think now is a good time?” he whispered, leaning in towards your ear. 

You glanced between the other three boys. There was such an air of fragile sadness between all of them that it broke your heart. “They need the pick-me-up.”

Jake looked you deep in the eyes before nodding. He agreed, they needed a win that night for sure. He brushed his fingers over your shoulder gently and shot you a small smile before he got up from his chair. He went unnoticed by the other three as he traveled down the hall to grab one of his guitars. He returned a minute or two later with his case in one hand and an amp and chord in the other. Only when he set them all down onto the floor did he get noticed by the other three. 

All conversation (whatever small and tense talk there was that was going on) ceased as all eyes turned to the guitarist. It continued to remain quiet as you all watched him set up his equipment. Josh eventually caught your eye, sending a questioning look your way. All you did was smile and point back at Jake. 

“So, I know that this is not the ideal time,” Jake glanced quickly over at Daniel, “but I wanted to show you guys… Well, it’s better if I just let my guitar do all the talking.” 

Glancing at you momentarily, you give Jake a reassuring nod and a smile. With a shaky breath, Jacob closed his eyes and began strumming his guitar. At first he started slow, playing basic riffs and chords. However, when it became clear that he became lost in the music he was playing, he got braver and started to play like he had back before the accident. Even though you already knew that Jake was back to previous skill level, you still felt the surprise and disbelief fill your veins as he played so elaborately that it took your breath away. When he concluded playing that’s when you realized you were crying. 

Finally opening his eyes, Jake smiled nervously. He cleared his throat and set aside the guitar. “So… yeah… that’s what I wanted to show you.” 

“Jake…” Sam spoke, completely stunned as the reality of the situation hit him. 

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor and then falling on the floor preceded Josh pulling his twin into a bone crushing embrace. From the way his shoulders were shaking it seemed that he was crying. Jake, albeit stunned, wrapped his arms around Josh, his eyes closing as he accepted the hug. 

Sam was quick to follow, wrapping his arms around his brothers and resting his head atop Jake’s. There was a huge, beaming smile on his face as you noticed a tear slip out of one of his eyes. Danny was close behind, a watery but proud smile on his lips as he rested a hand on Jake’s shoulder. You remained in your seat, watching the moment unfold before you. 

It was worth it. Whatever terrible, horrible consequences that you certainly would have to face would be worth that moment. 

At least, that’s what you believed for the first few months. 

+++

Taglist:

@doodle417 @sammykiszkasunusedshoes @jmks-housewife @alwayssotiredbutneverofyou @ageoferin @etoilesnoor @ascendingtostardust @godlygreta @s0livagant @gretavanflowerpower @morganic-goods @dannythedog @baguettejuliette @fan-girl-97 @gaby-gvf @age-of-nyahh @mzbrightside @myownparadise96 @xserenax-13 @sammysvanfeet @strugglingtodoshit @loofypoofy @chalametpwk @seventieswhore @razorbladekiszka @unfortunatelykristin @welightthefire @gretavanfleas @sammiejane22 @satanplayshisfluteforhim @starsasone @mintysammykiszka @writingcold @tearsofbri @teddiie @gardensgatedaisy @sparrowofthedawnsworld @angelbabyyy99 @whollyfreeamongststars @gretaswhore28 @l0rdoffli3s @kay-jordan @lightmyloverry @kenzie18 @gotavansleep @roosterbbradley @freckled-wonder @flower-power-anthem @gabyvanfleet @sarakay-gvf @mamalikes-gvf

Taglist Form

[luvwich]

🔎📚 manuscript word search

tagged by @seeker-of-truth to find:

whisper, light, tendril, slam, & haze

and by @ghostoffuturespast for:

blossom, scent, rust, dream, & rain

On a hot day in the summer of '53, eighteen bullets sieved Big Mike's body as he crossed Eisenhower on his way home from the docks. The perps, needless to say, were never apprehended. NCPD's official line on the matter was "random gang-related violence." Big Mike wasn't in any gang. There was a minor scandal and whispers of conspiracy, of union-busting. The whispers and the whisperers died before anything more came of it.

-- Jaded, ch.7 "Chill"

Nerves are lighting up that she hasn't had to acknowledge in too long. Nodes are sliding in and out of the wide-branched tree of her consciousness, too quickly to keep balanced; jumbled, haunted, tense.

-- Red-black

Her lips parted to take in a hiss of desperate, longing breath, but when her eyes met his they were resolute as she declared: “Well, you can’t touch just yet.” That raised his brow. “Oh?” Tendrils of hair shook around her face. “No. I think you’ll have to earn it.”

-- Arpeggio, ch.19 "Arnica" (this was the only tendril i could find!)

The netrunner's ass provided a pleasant distraction from the pain, but what he really needed was that hypo. As soon as she handed it to him he slammed it into the sinew of his left arm with a decisive force that gave both of them a start. The miasma of pain lifted in a rush that struck like an open-hand hit to the jaw.

-- Jaded, ch.1 "Tenebra" (jesus, lots of slammin' in my writing)

They rode in silence, Royal Blue’s airwaves filling the lacuna with warm brass and cool drumbeats. The dry heat of the desert enveloped the Mack as they sliced their own road through the dunes and the scrub. A haze shimmered in the distance, that fool’s ocean of heatwaves distorting reality. The wind that whipped through the windows carried the delicate spice of chaparral down from the hills. V was bored.

-- Arpeggio, ch. 22 "Nothing here at all"

He ruminated on the rosy blush spreading like petals beneath her freckles, imagined sheets of cherry blossoms floating down from the sky in a city he'd never set foot in. It was maddening; he felt like a drug addict who, upon finally scoring, now writhed in the come-down from the pleasure as he wondered when and how the next fix would come. 

-- Arpeggio, ch.11 "Where else"

Well, guess this is what they do in the fucking big leagues, she thought. She set her alarm to wake her at five in the morning, then thought twice and set it to 5:30, and rolled over to flick the lamp off. After two restless hours, the limbic recollection of her mother's scent lulled her to a shallow sleep.

-- Jaded, ch.8 "Problems"

The little parlor where the tiyas sat clacking their mahjongg tiles smelled reliably of menthol cigarettes mixed with the cool camphor and clove of Tiger Balm. White curtains billowed around the window, the delicate lace anachronistic against the backdrop of neon and rust. Or perhaps the city outside was the anachronism.

-- Jaded, ch.2 "Turf"

She dreamt of a bucolic valley, lush and green, with a small village tucked into its breast. She lived in this village for seven years, in a house with chickens in the back and flowering trees in the front. She married a kind village man in the second year, had three children, and lost one. At the end of the seventh year a rain began and did not stop until the valley was flooded and the village and every last child and chicken was washed out to the sea.

-- Arpeggio, ch.5 "Discretion" with a two-for-one special

tagging @seeker-of-truth @another-corpo-rat @cinnamon-mey @dani-the-goblin @fly-amanitaa @ghostoffuturespast @gracewithsomesacrifice @merge-conflict @pacificaisstillpacifica @theviridianbunny @wanderingaldecaldo with no pressure to find:

🔎 bare, disgust, feed, plastic, silence 🔍

[little-annie]

All I Want | Ch11

Steddie | Little_Annie | Ao3

Ch10⤵️

---

"Ed's, where are we going?"

"Patience Sweetheart, it's a surprise." Eddie smiles from the driver's seat of the van, his curls piled high on his head and Steve's yellow sweater swallowing him whole.

They've been in the van for a total of three hours. Steve having lost all sense of direction thirty minutes in, he can't tell North from South or East from West. They could be heading towards Indianapolis or the Canadian border for all he knows.

Though really, at the moment he doesn't quite seem to care. Eddie's hand clasped tightly in his, the low hum of the van's motor settling deep in his bones, a feeling in his heart that's much too early in their relationship to name. He doesn't care at all, be it for the reason he could happily live in this moment until the end of time.

It's only been a month, several weeks at the most and Steve Harrington can say with a definity that this is the happiest he's ever been.

His days have been filled with bright smiles and booming laughter. The warmth of lips on his own and the chill of thrills down his spine. They've whispered sweet nothings and shared gasping breaths. It's like nothing he's ever experienced before.

Something like…Happiness.

There'd been moments in his past that he recalls the emotion, but never something as strong as this. Never a fire in his veins, a warmth in his heart and a smile that never breaks. Something so pure, so beautiful. Something that's the definition of joy and more, wrapped up in his yellow sweater, hardly contained curls and deep amber eyes.

Wrapped up in one Eddie Munson.

Steve smiles back, something gentle and sweet, pulling their clasped hands to his mouth and pressing a kiss to pale knuckles. He thinks in that moment how he'd let Eddie take him anywhere. How he'd allow this man he knew only by name no more than a few months ago to whisk him away from what he knows to be hell on earth and lead them to happiness and love together.

Really wherever it may be, Steve knows he'll find happiness at Eddie's side.

Maybe it's a little early to be thinking that way, but really Steve thinks it's not. Like the idea of Eddie's hand forever having a place in his own isn't the scariest thing in the world. Like maybe if he tries hard enough and really gives this thing a go, maybe happiness won't be as rare as the beasts that lurk under the streets of Hawkins, Indiana or the presence of his parents in his childhood home.

Maybe happiness will be an ever present and free flowing thing. Like the water in rivers and the blood in his veins.

He turns bodily in his seat, the belt buckle pinching at his waist as he brings his knees to his chest and leans the side of his face against the headrest. His cheek pressing in the scratchy fabric and his feet struggling to fit on the chair beneath him, Steve can't help the swell of warmth that fills his heart.

Eddie's hand is still held in his, balanced on his knees in a precarious way, rings glinting in the early morning sun and thumb brushing over Steve's skin where it can reach. Leaning forward, Steve presses another kiss to Eddie's knuckles and plays with his rings.

His new position provides for a beautiful view. One of porcelain skin and rosy cheeks, soft lips and a round nose. One of a man he's beginning to think he already loves. A sweet soul and a stunning exterior, a smile that lights up any room and fills his heart with such a profound amount of joy.

The sun still hasn't reached its peak in the sky. Pinks and blues swirling like cotton candy on the horizon, Steve can't believe Eddie managed to get up and moving and out of the door before the birds began singing to the rising sun.

Last night, laying in bed with Eddie's head on his chest and a book held over his stomach, Steve hadn't the slightest clue of what today would bring. He still doesn't if he's being honest.

He hadn't even known to bring extra clothes for whatever it is that Eddie has planned, the man apparently sneaking into his house while he was at work and packing a bag to stash in the back of the van himself.

They'd left at an ungodly hour, one of which Steve was sure he'd never see Eddie rise to again. Though instead of being his normally grumbling morning self, Eddie had awoken Steve with a heavy and apparently already dressed grown man in his lap. Eddie had sat there with dreamy eyes and a sleepy smile, a full mug of coffee clasped tightly in hand, wiggling his hips as he whispered, "Stevie, Baby. Wake up."

Words followed by a kiss to the nose, Eddie continued, "Time for our adventure Sweetheart."

In a dusk lit room, Steve had let out a yawn and his hands easily found Eddie's thighs where they snaked under cut off denim shorts, fingertips brushing over coarse hairs and fair skin. He'd leaned up, meeting Eddie halfway, lips brushing lips, "I'll get up Eds, you just gotta get off of me."

"Coffee first," Eddie replied, using one hand to hold the mug and the other to brush Steve's hair from his face, having pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead.

After some shuffling and hushed morning giggles, they'd shared a coffee back and forth with kisses in between.

Steve had let Eddie take the reins, and three and a half hours later, they arrived at their destination. A heavily treed area that appears to be a campsite, a single post with the inscription S4 carved into it, a lone picnic table and a fire pit being the only tells.

There's a flutter between his lungs when he takes in the sight. Not to mention the idea of Eddie planning a camping trip just for them. The time, the phone calls, the patience, the money. The last of which Steve knows Eddie doesn't have much to spare.

"Eddie," Steve breathes, voice feeling shaky and knees feeling weak, he hasn't even gotten out of the van yet but he knows when he does his emotions will threaten to flow with tears.

No one's ever done anything like this for him before, ever.

Eyes misty Steve tries to continue but he's brought to an abrupt stop when there's a fist in his shirt heaving him towards the driver seat and lips crashing into his own.

There's words mashed into their embrace that go unheard as Steve struggles to unbuckle himself. Giggles spilling between their lips, Steve nearly falls into Eddie's lap when succeeds and soon finds himself squished between the man that makes him feel whole and the cracked plastic steering wheel to his back.

Eddie's hands settle gently on his hips, fingers creeping beneath his borrowed Black Sabbath t-shirt and rubbing circles over flushed speckled skin.

They move like waves, caught between the pull of the moon and the earth, the sun shining bright upon them as they lick into each other's mouth's and hold one another close.

Steve can feel Eddie's heart beating against his and he can't help but feel like that's where it belongs. Their rhythms matching and their breaths mingling, he hopes to remain here, in some capacity forever.

After a few minutes of moving as one and rocking like waves in Eddie's lap, Steve can't help but giggle when he feels a cramp. Beautiful things always being interrupted by the truth of life. It's not like he could truly ever remain here in Eddie's lap, sandwiched between the man and the steering wheel to his rear. It's just not possible and the pain radiating from his thigh to his ass agrees.

He pulls back, wiggling around, trying to alleviate some of the tension he's found in his leg. But Eddie steadies him, grabbing him tight by the hips and holding him flush in his lap. Eddie laughs to himself, bright and beautiful as he says, "Stay still."

Steve tries, he really does, but he fears if he sits here in Eddie's lap for much longer he may actually be stuck or at the very least lose all feeling in his leg before he can move. So he pouts, like he knows Eddie loves. Arms crossed over his chest, brow furrowed and lower lips jutting out.

Eddie laughs immediately, loud and larger than life, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in the most beautiful way and his dimples making a welcomed appearance. He moves his hands from Steve's hips. Using one to pull tanned crossed arms apart and drape them over his own shoulders still clad in Steve's yellow sweater. The other finds its way to Steve's hair, brushing caramel coloured strands behind his ear and moving to smooth his creased brow and then pouty bottom lip with his thumb.

A gentle kiss follows and Steve's lashes flutter as Eddie whispers, "I just wanted to say happy Month-iversary you dork."

And Steve can't help but smile, ignoring the pain radiating up his leg while he leans in for another kiss and whispers against their embrace, "Happy Month-iversary, Ed."

—

Steve can feel yet another tear roll down his cheek, but for the first time in weeks it's not purely riddled by sadness and grief. Eddie's here, in front of him, holding him with those calloused hands he's missed so much and calling him Sunshine.

That single word hanging in the air, Steve can't help but think of the day it first escaped Eddie's lips.

—

It'd been a short hike from their campsite and through some trees, the glistening blue waters coming into view when their feet first sink into the sand.

Eddie's hand still tight around his, Steve's pulled to the shores. The cool water washing over his toes in a matter of seconds. He shivers only to be pulled into Eddie's side and have a kiss laid to his temple.

There they stand for a moment, the water of Lake Michigan chilling their bones but the company of one another warming their hearts.

It's surprisingly quiet, a setting Steve would have assumed to be busy for a mid summer's day but it's not, and he's grateful for the fact because it allows him to lean a little closer and hold Eddie's hand a little tighter.

There's shore birds overhead, the rustling of leaves in the distance and a quiet crash of waves hitting the rocks no more than a dozen feet away.

He feels calm, more so than he's in years.

Tuning into the sounds around him and the heat of the man next to him. The sound of the waves crashing and the pulse of Eddie's heartbeat held in the palm of his hand.

Steve steps impossibly closer, leaning his head on Eddie's shoulder, whispering a quiet, "Thank You."

To which the love of his life responds with a kiss to the top of his head and a shallow hum.

—

Steve thinks in this moment, forehead lent against the man he loves that he'd give anything to go back to that day. To be able to sit in this position and lean in without any reservations or worry of what's to come next.

Eddie's heart continues to beat against Steve's palm where it sits held against his chest.

—

"My mom used to bring me here," Eddie whispers after a moment like he's unsure to even speak the words aloud.

They'd had conversations about their parents and Steve knows Eddie's mom died when he was young, but other than that, Lilian Munson was never a topic to be broached otherwise.

Steve squeezes Eddie's hand in his own, trying to offer encouragement for him to continue. And eventually he does, squeezing Steve's hand back and pressing a little closer to his side, "When d- Al, was um, you know, being himself, mom would bring me out here. We'd make a day of it, sometimes a weekend. Get ice cream, maybe bring a picnic. Sometimes we'd even just camp out on the beach."

It's a careful thing Steve realizes, the way Eddie says his words and focuses on the vastness of water infront of them. Then, not a moment later, Steve realizes the importance of the very ground he's standing on. Every grain of sand holding memories of love and care, of the rare beautiful moments of Eddie's childhood.

Steve leans closer, pressing a kiss to Eddie's shoulder where his head still lays and whispers, "That sounds nice Eds."

Eddie hums in response, pulling his hand from Steve's to snake around his waist and hold tight. After a moment he kisses Steve's cheek and says, "Yeah, it was."

–

They'd made their rounds of the beach, walking hand in hand when no one else was around, picking rocks and the rare shell to take home, Eddie getting particularly excited when he'd stumble upon a shard of sea glass instead.

By the time the sun started to fade and the lunch Eddie brought out with them was long gone, they found themselves sat side by side in the sand. Bare feet buried in the tiny grains of glass and gravel, skin tinged a darker shade of pink from the once heavily beating sun.

It's quiet and it's beautiful, sitting here in this moment together, the golden glow of the sun shining bright over the waves like the lava fields flowing through the seas. The sand shimmering like a million tiny fires at their feet and the shorebirds glowing like Phoenix' in the sky.

Steve can feel the heat of the fading sun and Eddie's stare on his skin, burning into his cheek like a brand and it's then that there's a whisper, something so faint, so quiet that it hardly registers to Steve's ear as it falls into the golden air next to him.

"Sunshine."

The word sparks a warmth in Steve's chest, blooming and spreading like a wildfire through his veins. He turns to Eddie, the man's eyes forever locked onto his face and before he can ask, Eddie's hand finds his cheek, gentle, warm as he whispers once again, "Sunshine."

A smile breaks across Steve's face as Eddie leans in further and speaks softly against his lips, "You're my Sunshine Steve Harrington."

And then their lips meet for what Steve's sure is well past the hundredth time, though truthfully it feels like the millionth but in the best way possible. Like lovers met over lifetimes, like lips that have slid against one another in embrace for years on end.

Between every press of lips Eddie continues, "Bright, "Beautiful," "Brilliant."

"The light of my godman life," Eddie says as he rolls Steve softly into the sand beneath them, bracketing the man between his hands, looking down on him with so much love and need.

"My Sunshine," Eddie whispers once more as their lips part for the last time for anything less than gasps and whispered words of praise.

They move as one, crashing into each other like waves to the shores, breaths mingling and the fire of the sky bathing them in a heavenly glow. Every rock of Eddie's hips, every press of his lips and every everlasting bruise he sucks into Steve's skin, it lingers with something sweet, shimmering, warm. Something that so plainly feels like love.

Like love and light and sunshine.

—

Another tear falls as Steve recounts the memory and his body moves forward on its own volition.

Eddie

Eddie never imagined he'd be here.

A beautiful man with olive skin and hazel eyes sitting in front of him. A forehead pressed to his own and a large hand held to his chest.

He never imagined he'd see the embodiment of sunshine when he looks into Steve Harrington's eyes. Golds and greens, the faintest shades of blue. Glassy and crying now silent tears.

Counting out steadying breaths and allowing Steve to mimic the heartbeat under his palm, Eddie would have never imagined the need, the great all encompassing want to pull the man close and protect him from the trauma that's so obviously eating away at his bones.

And Eddie most definitely didn't imagine to ever feel Steve Harrington's grip on his shirt tighten and pull him in closer after the word 'Sunshine' left his lips. Never did Eddie imagine to feel the brush of lips on his own and having to whisper with his eyes fluttering shut, "Steve, you don't want this."

They're close enough Eddie can feel the damp heat of Steve's breath as he doesn't move away. Gentle puffs of air falling over his upper lip, he fights the need to close the distance. It's less than an inch, no more than a goddamn millimetre and he'd be able to feel the warmth of another man pressed against him.

But he isn't allowed things like this. Eddie isn't allowed boys like Steve Harrington, especially in precious, fragile moments like this. The dead of night, the gentle glow of the kitchen light, the warmth of two bodies sitting so incredibly close their breaths become one. Eddie feels if he pressed forward he'd be taking advantage of the man. This, him, being something Steve Harrington would never truly want in life.

But for a man who couldn't possibly want him, Steve presses closer, their noses touching and another tear falling between them as Eddie's sure he hears a faint, shaky, "Please."

But he can't. He just… he can't. Beautiful things like this don't happen to Eddie Munson and as much as he wants to pull Steve close and feel his tear stained lips against his own, he can't.

So Eddie moves his hands, both gently finding a side of Steve's face, pulling him back until hazel glassy eyes open once again and Eddie whispers, repeats, soft and sweet, "You don't want this."

God and for some reason, deep down, Eddie feels crushed by his own statement, like he's lying through his teeth and the guilt of denial is about to eat him alive. Though by the look on Steve's face, it looks to be a quick and painless death.

Steve shudders a quiet breath, his eyes pinching shut and more tears falling free. After a moment he whispers a hardly audible, "Sorry," falling forward easily when Eddie wraps him in his arms and pulls him to lay against his chest.

He doesn't entirely know what to do. Steve's obviously vulnerable, emotional, damaged in some unseen way. Eddie would be freaking out more about the whole 'did Steve Harrington just try to kiss me?' thing if he wasn't so concerned about the man's well being. He has tomorrow to freak out anyways.

It's uncomfortable, the way they're laying, and Eddie's sure even as only seconds pass, Steve's already falling asleep where his face is pressed to the yellow fabric covering Eddie's chest.

Steve's laying between his legs and almost immediately do his hands weasel their way around Eddie's waist, one inching under his sweater to rest over the scars above his ribs.

Eddie doesn't say anything, he lets Steve take the smallest of things in the silence of his living room. Small fading breaths against his chest, a barely circling thumb over his scarred skin, the way he burrows closer and lets a handful of silent tears fall before drifting to sleep.

Eddie shouldn't imagine things like this, he isn't allowed things like this.

But he's never been one for following the rules, has he?

Maybe he isn't allowed beautiful things in life, but sometimes in the dead of night when no one's awake to tell him what he deserves, he likes to let himself imagine a life where he's allowed love and beauty and something as precious as the man laying atop of him now asleep.

Something that's the embodiment of pure sunshine even in the darkest of moments.

Someone he could call his Sunshine.

The bright and beautiful thing that brings life to the world around him. Something so natural, so pure.

For a crazy moment he thinks he could find that in Steve Harrington, the golden boy of Hawkins and the town 'Freak.' Maybe in a different universe it could be a wonderful thing.

Wrapping an arm around Steve's waist and carding a hand through his still drying hair, for some reason the idea doesn't seem so foreign.

Maybe for tonight Eddie can let himself imagine.

–

Everything about the last twenty four hours has been wild. Maybe getting the shit beat out of him and having his van trashed wasn't even the craziest part of his day.

Maybe it was the fact that he currently has Steve Harrington in his arms, the normally beautiful and stoic king of Hawkins just moments ago a crumbling mess held in his grasp.

It was wild to begin with when Steve offered to drive him home. Let alone when the man apparently fixed his van and brought it to his doorstep expecting nothing in return. Not even a ride home.

He looked exhausted, grease smeared across his face, dirt packed onto his clothes, sheer fatigue bleeding from his hazel eyes. Eddie couldn't leave him like that, but he was fucking tired. Getting the shit kicked out of you does that to a guy. Though Eddie figured at the very least he could offer to drive Steve home come morning, let the man crash on the couch and maybe offer him a beer or two as if that could possibly repay him for the new tires and free auto delivery.

What he didn't expect to see upon Steve Harrington coming into his home was a breaking man. A man riddled with something so toxic and decaying it looked to be eating him alive. A distant, foggy look in his eye that reflected that of a tortured soul.

Eddie wanted to hold him immediately. The need to do so being something so painfully aching in his chest. He wanted to reach out and pull Steve against him, shield him from all the hurt he was so obviously feeling.

There'd been a few times he'd tried to get the man's attention, only succeeding after what felt like the dozenth when Steve nodded and finally turned his eyes to meet Eddie's worrying gaze, muttering some bullshit excuse of just being tired.

Something in Eddie's gut told him otherwise.

But he didn't allow himself to act on the nearly instinctual need to pull Steve close, not at the time at least, so instead he stood there like an idiot, looking the man over before running off to clear his head and fetch Steve some blankets.

Not long after he was sitting on the couch, book in hand, when he heard what he was sure to be a sob come from the bathroom. Then a gasp followed muffled words and a hardly audible thud.

It wasn't his place, Steve had his own shit to worry about but Eddie was concerned and well maybe after the events of the last several hours, maybe that fire behind his ribs that burned for Steve Harrington got a little brighter. What was once a flicker of light turning into a rush of flame.

Steve wasn't who he used to be, it was plain to see no matter how much it pained Eddie to admit it. He was caring and so painfully sweet. A beautiful man with years of not so well hidden trauma behind those tortured eyes.

So when he heard the faint whispers of Steve crying in his bathroom, Eddie couldn't help but move. He was slow, quiet, tip toeing and trying to go unheard as he approached the bathroom door and pressed his ear against the thin wood.

The sound of Steve's muffled cries broke his heart. The tone so achingly sad and broken.

Maybe he shouldn't have, maybe it was a violation of the man's privacy but as Steve Harrington cried to himself in the trailer's small bathroom, Eddie sat outside the door. Ass on the ratty old carpet and back against the panelled wall, Eddie offered his unseen support.

It was only when Steve cracked the door open, cry tired voice asking for a change of clothes, that Eddie moved. Well, or more or less toppled over to not be seen in Steve's line of sight for fear of being spotted at the bathroom doors threshold.

He returned no more than a moment later with clothes he regrettably pulled from his bedroom floor, giving the sniff test and folding them to look at least clean and presentable.

Though maybe the most regrettable thing was giving Steve his clothes to wear in the first place. That fire behind his lungs roaring with a ferocity at the sight.

Then not even a whole thirty seconds later he had the man in his arms, sobbing for something unknown and eventually struggling to breathe over the fact.

And somehow he ended up here, with the buzz of Steve's lips brushing his own, a not so distant memory and the man laying curled into his chest like he belonged there. Soft breaths and still hands, the beating of Steve Harrington's heart matching the rhythm pulsing through Eddie's veins.

It's nearing 4am when Eddie begins to entertain the idea of finally falling asleep, an aching feeling in his chest wanting him to savour this moment like no other. Like it's the only time he'll ever be allowed something so bright, so beautiful.

---

Ao3⤵️

[ch1lde-mora]

sdjfso hello!!! shanna's here to bother you with another request!!! because well we're [peace sign] not doing good up there in the ol' nogging umu but could i maybe get some soft ch//ya hcs with holding hands maybe,,, i want someone to hold my hand (v pls hold my hand qwq ilysm i hope you're doing well)

HII SHANNA!!! Im so sorry ur brain isnt brbrbrbr-ing,, shakes brain i hope you feel better soon!! it looks like u want poly but i’m gonna do both a la carte & poly because the brain is just feeling it rn [hearts x5] (HOLDS UR HAND ILYSM ;V; i’ve been better but still not that bad!!) thank u sm sm shanna~!! xoxo, v (edit 3 months later: ik ur probably out n about and feeling better but i wanted to get this out for you!! ur such a sweet person ty for giving me this req)

(edit, ONE YEAR AND 6 MONTHS LATER: wow i really thought i got this out and i didn’t.. Time to make things right 💪 EXTREMELY SORRY FOR THE DELAY WAAAAAH ;;)

they r in my heart forever i love these two

Poly

Childe’s definitely in the middle of you two when you all hold hands

Swings your hands back and forth and tries to walk faster, but Kaeya won’t let you guys LOL

Hums his fav snezhnayan song if you’re lucky!

Interlocks all of your fingers too

Kaeya is more chill when you guys are all together, content with just lacing fingers and walking (albeit slowly) to wherever you need to go

If childe’s not humming you guys will usually talk quietly amongst yourselves just about common things like the groceries or plans with friends later

He would never tell you, but Childe really enjoys all the simple domestic stuff you guys get to enjoy like this

Kaeya usually rubs the fingers of whoever’s hand he’s holding (in this case, Childe’s) with his thumb as you guys walk and doesn’t comment on it, mention it or expect anyone to mention it at all. It’s just something that he does

When sitting at a table, they will have you in the middle holding hands under said table

It’s really funny trying to eat/drink this way 

Because when they try to let go to actually eat you might look at them with those pleading puppy eyes just screaming “don’t let go 🥺” 

Either you’re serious about this whole hand holding thing or you’re just being a sly bitch to make this experience a whole lot more hilarious but regardless, they don’t let go and resign to eating with one hand

It’s not practical at all and I don’t see it happening very often but when you want attention, who are they to deny?

Bonus: if you’re holding both of their hands, they will feed you with their free hands 

“Need a little help? Do you perhaps have your hands full?”

(lmk if you want a one-shot format in the future because this was so fun to write)

Childe

Holds your hand anytime he cannot hold your waist, which is often

He’s always trying for some sort of physical contact, whether that be an arm over the shoulder, around the waist, yet if those are unachievable he opts to go hand in hand with you down the street

He holds your hand shopping, he holds your hand if you guys are driving and at a red light, he holds your hand up elevators or just up STAIRS IN GENERAL?

Always rationalizing his thoughts with  “What if they fall. I should keep them from falling. I should hold their hand” when in reality he just wants to be close to you

Usually holds your hand with your fingers interlaced

If you reach out to hold hands first his cheeks might go a little rosy if he wasn’t expecting it

When in an open field like a park or clearing in a forest, he will sometimes take both of your hands and just spin you and him around like he used to do with his siblings in the snow

Sometimes if it’s really hot and you guys can’t cuddle in bed, he’ll just hold your hand instead

“Don’t you always want to hold and touch things that you love? I know I do.”

Kaeya

I see Kaeya as more of a person that wants a little bit more personal space when out and about, but he wouldn’t object if you initiated first

In private he would hold your hand shamelessly, but prefers to link arms if possible

I think he would charm you and ask if you wanted to hold his hand then be surprised when you actually did it

He’s held hands tons of times before (duh) but he feels like it’s more special when it’s with the one that he loves

There’s also that feeling of doing something so simple and “first-base” with someone you love that puts butterflies in your stomach when you do it for the first time in awhile

That’s what he feels like when he feels your hand in his

Doesn’t interlace his fingers but rather just grips your hand with a firm but not too tight hold

Because of his fingerless gloves and the spikes on the wrists of them, he gets a little bit scared they might poke you

Of course, the ever confident Kaeya keeps that to himself and says nothing about it, and it literally doesn’t end up ever being an issue

If you rub his hand with your thumb, he notices and fixates on it but doesn’t mention it, thinking about it for the rest of the day when he has to eventually depart for his work

“Hm.. Perhaps we should do this more often. What do you think?”

[rosie-b]

Shelltering Others

Chapter 2: Fold to Defend (Read Ch. 1 here!)

Nino gets his first official hint, but it isn't what he expected. At school, Adrien wants to know all about Ladybug's visit to Nino. What will he tell his friend?

Full chapter under the cut!

The morning after Ladybug practically broke into his room, Nino was careful to arrive at Francois-Dupont much earlier than usual. The sky was still painted a rosy pink by the sun’s first rays when Nino walked up to his school’s heavy doors. 

Holding the keychain he’d been given tightly in his fists, Nino snuck into the building and down the first-floor hall where room 117 was. All the teachers were still in their rooms getting ready for class; the hallway was clear except for the dark-haired man leaning against the door to a janitor’s closet and whistling. 

Seeing Nino, the man straightened up and offered a smile. “Ah, Nino Lahiffe,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “I see Chat Noir kept his word. My key, if you don’t mind.” The janitor, Mr. Moreau, held out his right hand with a flourish. 

Barely making eye contact, Nino crept forward and dropped the keychain into the janitor’s waiting hand. “Sorry about this,” he said, a warm flush spreading from his neck. Hoping to get the awkward situation over with as soon as possible, Nino turned to leave, but Mr. Moreau stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. 

“Tsk-tsk, Nino, I know you might not have the fondest memories of me, but you don’t need to leave so fast! Don’t you want your reward from Chat Noir, or should I keep it as well as mine?” Mr. Moreau’s voice was warm and joking, but it sent a chill down Nino’s spine.  

Nino froze. He’d nearly forgotten about the wild goose chase he was trapped in. Well, he could always drop out after this next clue, Nino thought, and turned back around to face Mr. Moreau. 

“Yes, of course,” he said, stretching his lips into an exaggerated grin. “How silly of me to forget.” 

The janitor chuckled. “I’ll say,” he said. “It’s not every day Chat Noir recruits you for a secret mission and leaves a handwritten letter of thanks. With how much his autographs go for, this must be worth a hundred euros, even without his signature,” Mr. Moreau joked as he reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper no bigger than a notecard.  

Nino took it from the janitor dazedly. This has to be a prank, Nino told himself. There was no way Chat Noir's first hint was just some folded piece of paper with ‘thank you’ printed on it. For all Nino knew, the letter could just read “Chat Nor is—,” and that would be that; no more time for Nino to back out of learning Chat Noir’s secret identity.  

But Nino had been promised a test, a puzzle to solve. There must be something else in the letter , Nino thought as he thanked Mr. Moreau and walked back outside the school to wait for Adrien to arrive. 

Nino was still over ten minutes early by the time he got outside and checked his Alliance ring for the time, so he decided to open his letter and see what it said. It had been expertly folded, like some form of 2-d origami, in a pattern Nino couldn’t recognize. It was hard to open it without tearing the paper, and Nino angrily wondered if Chat Noir even wanted him to read it. But what kind of prank would— 

“Hi, Nino!” Adrien’s cheery voice broke through Nino’s thoughts. 

“Ahh!” Nino spun around, clutching the letter to his chest. “Don’t scare me like that, dude, I almost had a heart attack!” Nino readjusted his headphones around his neck anxiously. 

Adrien raised his eyebrows, peering at Nino curiously. “Oh? I thought a former hero like you would be ready for someone creeping up on them,” he said, an ironic tone in his voice. 

Nino sighed exasperatedly. “Listen, dude, something weird happened last night, and now everything feels off,” he whispered to Adrien, leaning in close to his friend’s ear. “Ladybug visited my room at, like, midnight, to yell at me for revealing my secret identity to you and Marinette. Well, mine and Alya’s identities,” Nino corrected himself. 

“Wow,” Adrien said in an impressed voice. “You really must have screwed up for her to pay you a visit just to yell at you.” 

Nino sighed, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. “Yeah, mon pote , I really did. I didn’t think about the consequences when I told you or Marinette about my secret identity... and I’m beginning to see how much of a mistake that was.” Nino laughed nervously and asked, “Did you know that Monarch has already targeted Marinette twice to try and use her against Ladybug and Chat Noir? Just because she might be close to them? And she doesn’t even know who they are!”  

Adrien opened his eyes wide and shook his head.  

“Monarch isn’t afraid to hurt the people closest to Miraculous holders to get to the heroes. And anyone even a former hero has told their secret identity to is on that list,” Nino said. Swallowing, Nino placed his hands on Adrien’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. “I put you in a lot of danger for no reason. I don’t think there are enough words in the French dictionary to tell you how sorry I am, mec .” 

Adrien gave Nino a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I understand why you told us,” he said. “Thank you for apologizing anyway.” 

Nino sighed, his head drooping down as he held on to Adrien. “If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, let me know,” he said. “And if you think Monarch might be targeting you, please tell me or Ladybug and Chat Noir. I couldn’t bear it if you got hurt because I got jealous and blew up,” Nino begged, wringing his hands together like he was praying to the god of fidgeting. 

Reaching up, Adrien patted Nino reassuringly on the back. “I will, Nino,” he said. “I don’t think you need to worry about me too much, though. Now, tell me,” Adrien said, his voice growing excited. “What else did you and Ladybug talk about? Was she really just there to yell at you?” 

Nino cringed. “It felt like she was,” he admitted. “She probably would have been right to. But instead, she told me that she understood why I did it, and then, she gave me a way to prove that she could still trust me,” he said. 

Adrien blinked. “She gave you a way to prove yourself? How are you doing that; did she give you a quest or something?” 

Nino opened his mouth to give Adrien an answer, but just as he was about to speak, he hesitated. He could almost feel something holding him back. Monarch is willing to target our friends. Monarch, who had already targeted Marinette twice. Monarch, Monarch, Monarch in his purple suit, cackling as he threatened a defenseless Adrien, terrified, chained in the villain’s lair. Monarch, standing over Marinette, unconscious on the ground with blood pouring from a cut on her forehead. Monarch, signaling an akuma to his side, menacing, holding a mace over Marinette’s body. Monarch, smirking as Adrien cried out in agony, asking why Nino would have let this happen. You failed us, Adrien was saying, you could have protected us!  

Nino’s eyes dimmed as he took a step back from his eager friend. “I don’t think it would be right for me to tell you,” he said sadly. “It— it  would defeat the purpose. I’m supposed to learn how to value heroic secrecy more, or something.” 

“Oh, well, I’m sure you could make an exception for your best friend,” Adrien cajoled, turning his wide-eyed, pleading expression to Nino. 

Nino groaned, avoiding his friend’s puppy-eyes as he insisted, “Not for this, Adrien, I can’t make an exception for anyone. That’s what got me in trouble in the first place! And I don’t want to put you in any more danger.” Nino’s voice choked as he looked sadly at his friend.  

Funnily enough, Adrien smiled at Nino’s denial of his request. “Good,” he said. “I’m glad you’re learning from your mistakes. Let me know if you change your mind about telling me, though,” he said as he held up the folded letter from Chat Noir. 

Nino stared. “Where did you get that?” he asked. “I was just holding it, that’s my responsibility, when did I—” 

Adrien bumped Nino’s shoulder, cutting off his panicked questions. “Nino. You dropped it when you went to hold my shoulders.” 

Nino blinked. “Oh,” he said. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice. Thank you,” he said, reaching for the letter, but Adrien held it to the side instead of handing it over.  

“I’m not going to read it,” he said at Nino’s panicked look. “I just noticed how this was folded. If you need help opening it, you can ask me how it’s done. This is a technique I taught myself when I was thirteen, from an old book I found lying around the house. I’m not sure many other people would know it.” Adrien held the letter out to Nino again, a soft smile on his face. 

Nino sighed in relief, taking the letter and stuffing it in the bottom of his schoolbag, putting a book on top of it so there was no chance of it falling out. “Thank you,” he said. “I just can’t believe I dropped it! I’m already proving that I can’t even hold on to a paper, much less a secret identity,” Nino whimpered. “Ladybug is never going to trust me again!” 

Adrien rolled his eyes. “You didn’t mean to drop the letter,” he said. “And I highly doubt that Ladybug is taking a day off school to spy on you and grade your every move. Relax, Nino,” Adrien smirked. “It’s funny, normally you’re the one telling us to chill out.” 

“Ha-ha,” Nino said, letting out a huff. “I’m extremely calm considering the situation, thank you. Ah, but if my leg keeps jittering in class and I accidentally distract you by tapping my pencil, I apologize in advance.” 

Adrien and Nino shared a laugh as Marinette and Alya joined them, and together, they headed in for class. 

  Nino snuck off to the boiler room to read the letter in private during his lunch break. He’d gotten instructions on how to open the letter from Adrien in between classes, and he was feeling cautiously hopeful that he would find something useful in the paper, after all. Maybe Nino could really do this, could prove to Ladybug that he could keep a secret and win back her and Chat Noir’s trust! 

As Nino unfolded the letter, careful to follow the tips Adrien had given him, he held his breath. But the letter wasn’t that hard to unfold after all. It turned out that the technique was more of a way to make sure the recipient could tell whether the letter had been opened by some busybody before it reached them. 

As the dim light from the desk lamp fell on Chat Noir’s letter, Nino raised an eyebrow at the neat, even flowery, cursive handwriting on the paper. Nino had thought that Chat Noir would be the type to learn the basics of handwriting and then abandon the technique for a freer print, but each letter in the note was almost immaculately formed. This could be used in a handwriting textbook, Nino thought absently as he began to read. 

Dear Nino, the note said, Before I begin, I’d like to say that I’m not really sure what I’m doing.  

I’ve never told anyone a secret this big before. To be honest, I’m not sure that I’m ready to. Finding out that Ladybug already chose someone to tell her identity to was disheartening for me, because keeping our identities secret was always one of her biggest rules. I understand why she did it, and I’m glad she has someone to support her, but I wish she would have told me first. And I wish I didn’t have to tell someone else who I am before I get to tell my partner, my other half. So, I understand if you’re feeling conflicted about this, too.  

That doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate you being willing to share my secret with me, though, and I think that this might turn out to be fun for both of us once you figure everything out! Ladybug probably told you I wanted Marinette to be my confidant, and that’s true, but I did have a... slightly ulterior motive for that. You see, I am in love with Marinette. And she’s in love with likes Chat Noir back!   

Nino scoffed. Everyone knew Marinette was in love with Adrien, not Ladybug’s flirtatious partner! But then, she’d seemed a little less open to Adrien’s advances recently... 

Nino frowned and kept reading. 

But we can’t be together like this; a civilian dating a hero would be catastrophic. Monarch already took advantage of our relationship to almost akumatize Marinette. I don’t know what I would have done if he succeeded.   

Marinette was never really an option for me to reveal my true self to, but you always have been. You’re a good person, no matter what you told your friends about me or when you revealed your secret identity. You’ve made some mistakes, but so have I, and you made sure to only tell people you knew you could trust.   

I know you might be having some second thoughts about accepting this mission. And if you want to back out, you can just quit at any time. That’s part of why I made this into a bit of a scavenger hunt. It’ll be easier for you to drop out now than it will be later, but you have the option of doing that up until you put all the pieces together. I think you have to want them to make sense, anyway, or else my hints will just be meaningless bits of knowledge floating around your head, like that formula for velocity you’re always forgetting about. (That’s what Plagg told me, at least. ((Plagg is my kwami, like Wayzz was yours.)) )  

If you’re still willing to learn about the cat under the mask, then your next hint will be waiting for you at the Dupain-Chengs' patisserie after school. Your hint: it’s my favorite pastry from my favorite bakery in my favorite flavor. (Alternatively, if you want to drop out, just don’t go to the bakery. Or walk in, order something you want, and refuse to take anything else they offer you.)  

Good luck on your history test today!  

~Chat Noir  

Nino almost dropped the letter again. The history test was today?? He’d forgotten all about it! 

Hurrying to fold the letter into basic thirds and stuff it into his schoolbag, Nino pulled out his history notes and started scanning over them as quickly as he could. There were ten minutes left of lunch break; if he studied hard enough for the rest of that time, then he might manage to get at least an eighty percent on this exam. Maybe. 

But as Nino shifted through pages of notes on le Rei Soleil, he found his mind returning to the letter Chat Noir had written. Chat Noir had been hurt by a decision Ladybug had made without him. They were partners; shouldn’t they be of one mind about everything? But Nino had made a similar decision to Ladybug’s when he revealed his identity and Alya’s to two of their friends without her permission. Nino cringed. 

It seemed both he and Ladybug had a lot to make up for to Chat Noir. It had seemed like Chat Noir knew more about Nino’s faults than he had thought; in the letter he’d written that he was a good person, “no matter what you told your friends about me.” Did Chat Noir know about Nino’s breakdown in front of Adrien? Had Adrien told Chat Noir about the horrible things he’d said about the hero? 

Nino really hoped not, because he had been regretting them for weeks. If Nino had the Rabbit Miraculous, he would go back in time just to stop himself from ever complaining to Adrien about Chat Noir. Maybe then he wouldn’t have revealed his identity the first time, and been more cautious about doing it in the future. 

But if Chat Noir somehow knew about Nino’s hurtful words, then it was even more important that Nino make it up to Chat Noir for ever doubting him. And if the best way to do that was to pick up a pastry from the Dupain-Chengs, well, Nino certainly wasn’t complaining. 

As the bell for the end of lunch break rang, Nino stuffed his little-studied notes back into his bag and headed up from the boiler room. 

He had a test to take. 

[goldenheartgirl1]

Ch.17-It's Just 25 Cents TWST Mafia AU

Ruggie was a lot of things, a scammer, penny pincher, good shot, vice leader to Leona, a helpful soul, and an outgoing cunning guy. Being 18, working with a gang, and now almost finished with homeschooling, things felt so rosy to him. He wasn’t concerned with the future, he liked to live in the present and focus on his family. He was heading to the gang base after helping his grandmother with a few chores, listening to his headphones while riding his motorcycle in and parking it right outside. The loud laughter and crashes of the members were muted by Ruggie’s music, he happily went upstairs to greet Leona and opened the door briefly but closed it quickly in time for a glass to shatter against the wood. He chuckled, taking off his headphones and opening the door again. “A little grouchy this morning boss?”

“Fuck off, Ruggie. I’m trying to take care of some expenses.”

“Oh boy, money problems?” Ruggie replied, stepping into the bedroom, where Leona was sitting at the small desk and looking over some papers. “Is it related to the gang?”

“No it’s related to the fairy galla,” Leona replied sarcastically and then snapped back. “Yes, it’s related to the gang! We don’t have a lot of money to begin with even with my connections, and Vil is not going to spare money unless it’s an emergency. And those idiots downstairs are mooching a little too much.”

“You can’t really blame them, this place is becoming more like a fraternity since I’m always gone on missions you don’t want to do.” Ruggie replied, smirking as Leona glared at him. “Hey, I’m not lying. But what do you want to do? We can’t exactly take out a loan.”

Leona thought for a moment then got an idea, feeling himself relax in his seat and spoke calmly. “I have an idea..I want you to see if you can get some of them jobs in parts of the Golden Sands, Pyroxene, and possibly in the Rose district. The more we have working the more money we save, and it gets us closer to areas of concern if that damn mafia tries anything.”

“Huh!? Why do I have to find them jobs?” Ruggie demanded, his body tensing up as Leona glared at him again.

“Because, you can smoothly talk people into accepting the gang members. Just spin tales about how looks aren’t everything, even throw in sob stories if you need to.”

“And..what if Vil or Riddle catch onto this?”

“Don’t give a shit. And don’t say a word to Vil, I get enough of his lazy talk crap as it is. Just go around each district for the next few days.”

Ruggie bit the inside of his cheek for a second, almost tempted to argue but then smirked and said. “Okay, buuuut, I might need some money for the expense of gas and food-”

Leona stood up abruptly, making Ruggie chuckle, and took out his wallet before handing him 500 thaumarks. “Here, now shut up and go do it.”

“Pleasure doing business!” Ruggie said and quickly took the money before racing out of there before Leona could change his mind.

Ruggie gave a brief warning to the boys that they were getting jobs before speeding out of the house and jumping onto his motorcycle. He revved it up and chuckled to himself while thinking about places that might be able to overlook the boy’s ruggedness. It’s not as if Ruggie wasn’t going to take the job seriously, but he had some doubts of how easy it would be to smooth talk some of the stores in the Pyroxene district and the Golden Sands. But he raced over to the Rose district first in the belief that he’d have better luck there first. The day was warm but beginning to chill from the fall weather, making the beauty of the Rose district change from its vibrant greens to its colors of gold, brown, and red. He knew the Rose district was perfect for community jobs, cleaning up the parks, keeping roads paved, and other labor jobs that could use the guys.

Ruggie’s charm was always one of his greatest qualities, the young man was intelligent when it came to work ethic as well since he worked a lot of odd jobs since he was much younger. He visited each of the job locations that were hiring and buttering them up with compliments and words of confidence in the gang members he was considering for each task. There was a small sense of satisfaction with the way employers turned from confused to flustered with the compliments and words of praise. Ruggie left the fourth building he visited and happily walked to one of the nearby parks to just relax, putting his hands on the back of his head and humming to himself while walking. While walking he stopped when he saw three kids, two boys and one girl, trying to climb a tree, each of them trying with their might but barely able to make it up more than a couple feet.

“Hey kids, what are you doing?” Ruggie called out and dropped his hands as he walked over. One of the boys, with scruffy brown hair, looked at Ruggie sadly and pointed up at the rabbit kite stuck in the tree.

“We can’t get the kite down..”

Ruggie smirked and popped his knuckles. “Don’t worry, I got it~” He started to climb the oak tree with ease, climbing up the trunk before carefully stepping on the branches as he made it to the kite and carefully set it free from the leaves and branches.

The gang member dropped down and smiled as he handed the kite over to one of the children. “Here you go kids~”

“Thanks mister!” The girl shouted with happiness and gratitude, her bright hazel eyes glimmering happily while running off with the boys to presumably go fly the kite again.

Ruggie, feeling even better now, kept walking until he got back to where he locked up his motorcycle and hopped onto it. Just as he was putting on his helmet, his eyes caught a glimmer of something and he got up for a moment and walked over to see a quarter on the ground. “Oh hello~ free change.”

Picking up the quarter, Ruggie was going to turn to leave but noticed three guys walking his way, all dressed in the casino colors. He didn’t panic, instead he waved and tossed the coin up before catching it. “Hello fellas! What a fine day isn’t it?”

One of the guys, with dark eyes and hair a dark lavender color, raised a brow at Ruggie and demanded curtly. “What are you doing in our territory, claw member?”

“Oh ouch, so mean. Come on you guys, even I need a break from my work. Can’t a guy enjoy a lovely day?”

“It’s kind of suspicious to only see one of you around here.” The guy hissed back and took a step forward. “There’s always more of you somewhere.”

“Wow, so hostile.” Ruggie replied with a shrug and continued to flip the coin as he said. “Let’s not make this ugly guys, just let me go and let’s all enjoy the day separately.”

“How about we just take you to see Riddle and let him decide-”

Before the guy could reach out to grab Ruggie, the gang member flicked the coin right into the guy’s left eye and caught the quarter while the guy reeled back with a pained groan. The other two guys ran at Ruggie, to which the young man smirked and caught one of them by the arm and twisted it while tripping the other casino guy. He wasted no time stepping on the fallen guy’s back and knocked his open palm into the struggling casino member’s nose to make him drop as well. The lavender haired guy looked at Ruggie with shock but hurried to help his friends while Ruggie ran off and jumped onto his motorcycle, backing up and then turned around and sped off up one of the roads in the direction of the Golden Sands.

Ruggie cackled to himself and slowed down while entering into the busy district, by now everyone was out at work or guests were going through and shopping. He slowed down in front of Kalim’s bank and locked his cycle around a bike rest before walking down the street. The Golden district was always beautiful and lively, filled with peace due to the agreement of the two opposing forces. Ruggie enjoyed exploring the businesses hiring but knew that it would be hard to get a job in this area since a lot of the places required people with degrees in college and not just high school boys. However, that didn’t stop Ruggie from looking around and eating some of the delicious cuisine.

While on his walk he heard a familiar voice call out. “Hello, little imp!”

Ruggie paused and looked around before setting his eyes on Sam, who was sitting at a table in front of a cafe, and chuckled. “Sam! Long time no see! How have you been?”

“Good little imp, and yourself?” Sam asked politely with a big grin and took a sip of his coffee, his eyes watching Ruggie as the young gang member sat across from him.

“Hanging in there, it’s just been such a pain lately. All these responsibilities Leona keeps shoving onto me, managing the gang members from doing something stupid, and trying to save money.”

“Oh? How is your grandmother?”

“She’s well, bull-headed and tough as always!” Ruggie replied cheerfully before thinking and then asked. “Sam, what do you think the best way to earn money is?”

“Hmm, that is a tough answer to obtain.” Sam mused out and set his cup down, his head leaned onto his left hand, his right hand's fingers curling in the air in a mysterious gesture like he was trying to pluck something from the air. “That depends on what you’re willing to give to receive such a thing.”

“Well, it’s complicated. Vil doesn’t want to give the gang money, there are gang members using up funds, and Leona doesn’t want to dip too much into his family’s money. I’m supposed to be finding jobs for the members of the gang, but something tells me a lot of them won’t be able to get work due to their..current situations.” Ruggie complained, his fingers dragging at the skin of his cheeks, his eyes fluttering in agitation before releasing his own face and stated. “Plus, I don’t want them to be in danger from the goons of the Coin.”

Sam listened, taking another sip of his coffee before he grinned and suggested. “You know, I think I have an idea. I always need little strays to run around and collect things for me, and I will happily pay those that wish to work for me that can keep secrets.”

“Wait really? That’s great! How many of them can work for you?”

Well I certainly need at least five, but they must be able to keep quiet. Allow me to also warn you that this arrangement won’t last forever. Let me show you something, Ruggie.”

Ruggie leaned forward in his seat while Sam pulled out a deck of cards with royal purple and black backs and started to shuffle them, under and over the bridge, weaving the cards and rifle shuffling them before sliding them in an arch on the table. All of the cards face down for a moment before he scooped them back up into his hand and fanned them out. Knowing the game that Sam was playing at, Ruggie pulled three cards but didn’t look at the front. Sam grinned and put the other cards away, taking the three from Ruggies hands and laying them out.

“Here’s the deal Ruggie, you already have your troubles as it is,” Sam commented, turning the first card over to show a desolate and old town, it eerily reminded Ruggie of his home town on the outskirts where homes were left to rot and plants were sparse. “You have many worries of protecting your home, and helping the kin that are struggling to make ends meet. Money is the blood of your home and district, without it everything will wither.”

Ruggie listened, his eyes narrowing as the second card was turned to show a shield with a lion's head and a peacock's feathers fanned out behind the shield. He looked up at Sam with confusion while Sam continued to explain. “You have a protective group that will do what they can to help, and while you have security, funds will be needed. And those boys need to learn how to balance reality with their fantasy, to live their lives without sacrificing their futures.”

Slowly, the blue eyes peered at the third card and Ruggie felt a sinking feeling in his gut. “So, you can allow some to work for you to get paid for us, but for a short time. What’s the problem? I can warn them that it’ll be a short job.”

“Well, there’s something coming little imp, something that could be critical to your future. While there will be wealth, there will be loss, that is the price of desiring something.” Sam flipped the last card, which showed a discarded and bloody looking bandana, the background was dark with shadows as well. “To receive you must give.”

The air around them was bitter and chilly despite the sunny day, Ruggie feeling a shudder rolling down his spine as his and Sam’s eyes met. They stared for a moment before Ruggie questioned. “Anything we can do to prevent severe loss.”

Sam smirked and took his cards back. “The only way to stop a great war is a wave of peace. But that’s not for us to decide.”

Ruggie thought for a moment, feeling conflicted but tried to shake it off and stood up with a gleeful smile. “Well! Nice talking with you! I’ll find a few volunteers to help serve you and have them meet you-”

“Hey! There he is!”

Both Ruggie and Sam looked over in surprise as the three casino men that Ruggie saw before were heading their way. Ruggie jolted and gave a shy grin as he yelled back. “Hey guys! You’re not still mad about the quarter are you?”

Sam noticed how the three just looked angrier at Ruggie, one of them even had a bandage on their nose, and he playfully said. “Better run little imp.”

“Agreed, bye Sam!” Ruggie replied and raced off, running in the opposite direction of the casino boys and quickly slipping past all the civilians he approached.

Ruggie wasted no time heading in the direction of Kalim’s bank and was just about to run up the steps but ran into Jamil before even reaching the first step. The two both fell to the ground, Jamil dropping a briefcase in the process and his charcoal eyes narrowed at the sight of Ruggie. “Ruggie! For heaven’s sake, look where you are going-”

“Sorry Jamil, having a bit of trouble with some persistent casino boys.” Ruggie replied with a cheeky smile and stood up, offering his hand to Jamil and assisting the banker up.

“Casino goons? Don’t they know the rules of the Golden Sands?” Jamil grumbled while grabbing his briefcase.

“Guess not~” Ruggie replied and looked towards the goons as they slowed to a stop a few feet away. “Hello boys, this is my friend Jamil!”

Jamil glared at Ruggie and muttered. “Friends are a stretch..” His attention then turned to the three and his tone changed to frustration and sternness. “As for you three! The Golden Sands District is a place of no dispute between the groups. You should go back and stop making a fuss over nothing!”

“It’s not nothing! That pest broke my nose!” The brunette shouted while the lavender haired goon stepped forward.

“He has to pay for also nearly taking my eye out!”

“Oh come on you guys, you attacked first.” Ruggie pouted a bit with annoyance but stayed back while Jamil took a step forward as well.

“I said, leave this be.” Jamil replied sharply, setting down his briefcase for a second as the lavender haired teen still approached.

The goon tried to shove Jamil but the banker grabbed his arm and with a quick motion he slammed his knee into the goon’s stomach and shoved him back on the ground. The young man coughed and looked up in surprise but Jamil just glared and repeated. “Leave this be. Or I will get the authorities involved..and I’m sure you wouldn’t want Riddle to know about this.”

The mention of Riddle made the three freeze up with terror but then they quickly left after Jamil’s warning. He picked up his briefcase and fixed his outfit while Ruggie smirked and walked closer and said. “Nicely done! Thank you Jamil.”

“Don’t thank me, this is your fault too.” Jamil said coldly before starting to walk again, heading to a nearby cafe. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m on a break.”

“Hold it, Jamil! I have a question for you.” Ruggie quickly followed after him and stated. “Look, I had a word with Sam and something he said really put things into perspective. I need to find some of our guys jobs that they can earn money and really live for! Gain valuable experience and make a life for themselves.”

“What about businesses in your district? Aren’t they always looking for workers?” Jamil questioned as he got in line at a cafe.

“The big companies are looking for people to help renovate the city rather than help and preserve it.” Ruggie exasperated, and continued to plead his case. “Come on Jamil, don’t you guys need more guards at the bank? Messengers? Other purposes like that?”

“Sure we do, but the fact that they are part of a gang can be troublesome, especially since the Pride and Coin both do business in this region.” Jamil stated sternly and looked at his phone with an angered sigh. “Great…now Kalim is having a problem. I can’t get one moment away from the office..”

Ruggie pursed his lips for a moment, thinking of a scheme and suggesting. “You know, if I give you some of our guys, they could learn a few tricks from you, so that way they could watch Kalim and you can take a proper break.”

“And what makes you think I’d trust any of your men? Most of them are probably looking to rob the bank rather than help it.”

“I’m offended Jamil! I’m looking for honest work for the guys, and you insinuate that they can’t change?”

Jamil sighed from Ruggies faux hurt, putting his buzzing phone into his bag to ignore it while rubbing his forehead. “And you think you have one that can manage to hold a job with us?”

Ruggie smirked, knowing he found a way in. “Yes of course! All of them are eager for a real job and to provide for their futures. Even if you pay them on nickels and dimes they would be pleased.”

“Don’t insult me, Ruggie. We pay our employees normal fees.” Jamil replied and took a step forward as they approached the counter to order. “Besides, I doubt anyone can live on nickels and dimes.”

“My family did. No matter how you look at it, money is money-” Ruggie replied, taking out the quarter he obtained and twirled it around his fingers. “Even a little quarter, if saved properly, can get you great things. How about I buy you a drink, what’ll you have?”

Jamil was about to retort but then growled as his phone started ringing with calls and turned his frustration to the phone and took it out to silence it. “I’ll take poison!”

“Oh good choice, I’ll have my poison with a little club soda.” Ruggie joked but then nudged Jamil as they got to the counter, the poor barista looking confused at their poison comment. “No seriously, what do you want?”

Jamil’s face flushed a bit with embarrassment and he cleared his throat to obtain his composure. “Uh, an Al-Dari coffee please, 12 ounce size. And..” Jamil’s eyes glanced at Ruggie, sighing as he gestured for Ruggie to take the spotlight.

“Oh, I’ll just have a bacon and cheese breakfast sandwich!” Ruggie chimed in and then took out some of the thaumarks Leona gave him, giving them to the barista and taking his change.

The two stepped out of the line and Jamil contemplated for a moment before asking in a serious tone. “Do you really have people willing to actually work and learn?”

“Yep! Besides, those kids need to start thinking about their futures. The gang life is fun but I still hear about their parents' grievances through the grapevine.”

Jamil pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before finally conceding. “Fine, find me someone that can protect Kalim and actually has some brains. If he can listen to orders and actually learn, then I’ll consider hiring him. As for other job opportunities I’ll reach out and ask around.”

“You’re wonderful Jamil! I’ll repay you another time.” Ruggie replied with a smile and felt relief wash over him.

“Well, I figured if you’re pursuing this so vehemently then Leona must have put you up to this.” Jamil replied, noting how Ruggie was taken aback by his words. “Don’t be so shocked, whenever the Pride needs something they always pursue it for personal reasons.”

“Wow, aren’t we bitter?” Ruggie pouted before patting Jamil’s shoulder and saying. “Best of luck Jamil! I have to head home.”

Before Jamil could reply, Ruggie grabbed his sandwich and walked off, leaving Jamil to grab his coffee and pray he didn’t just make a mistake. But before he could take a sip he noticed someone heading in Ruggie’s direction and his brows furrowed with concern.

Ruggie happily walked down the street and started eating his food, letting out a groan of delight at the delicious taste and satisfying his hunger as well. He decided to take a quick walk around and went off the sidewalk and past the buildings towards the park and residential regions of Golden Sands. The district may not be large in width on a map, but it almost entirely cuts the districts apart, almost like a river that starts up in Thorn Valley and melts all the way to Ernte. To get to Pyroxene, Afterglow, Coral, or the Rose district in a timely manner, anyone would have to drive through Golden Sands. Otherwise, you’d have to drive up through the mountain pass of the Thorn Valley or down the farm lands of Ernte to avoid Golden Sands entirely.

As Ruggie enjoyed the children running around and playing in the fields, with the neatly cut grass and perfectly trimmed trees, he finished his sandwich and tossed the wrapping in a garbage bin. He felt something off and was about to turn to look but felt a hand on his shoulder and something cold pressed to his back. Ruggie, although inside was a bit worried, outside he grinned and chuckled. “Ah, an assassin..I should have guessed one of you was skulking around here.”

The Dorniger Drache agent was taller than Ruggie and certainly stronger, wearing casual clothes and a brown trench coat, but black gloves on his hands and wore a black trilby hat to hide his face. “What was the conversation you had with Samuel?”

A chuckle slipped out of Ruggie before he could stop himself. “Oh of course..it’s stupid of me to think that you were actually looking for me. Although I didn’t think the agency was getting so desperate for information on Sam..by the way, how is your search for his residence going?”

Ruggie flinched as the gun to his back was pressed more into his spine, making him quiet as the agent hissed. “Don’t test me filthy mutt..Now what is it you both were talking about?”

“Careful friend..there’s a lot of families around here.”

“Oh..my mistake.” The man hissed and started leading Ruggie back towards the business buildings, but Ruggie knew that he would be cornered there. “Let’s talk over here then.”

The gang member allowed himself to be led, only because he didn’t want to scare the families nearby, but spoke up while they walked. “You realize this area is a treaty of peace.”

“You think that we haven't killed in the Golden Sands before? I assure you Ruggie, every district has blood somewhere that we’ve spilt on.” The man growled quietly and continued to lead on.

His heart raced in his chest, adrenaline beginning to spike and Ruggie slowly moved his right hand down to his appendix. “Well I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but all we talked about was money.”

They made it to the back of one of the service buildings, but before the agent could inquire more from Ruggie, the gang member elbowed the man and hissed in pain as his elbow made contact with a bullet proof vest. That didn’t deter Ruggie however, and pulled out a small .380 pistol from his waistband holster and turned to shoot the man in the leg, but his arm was seized and the agent grip twisted Ruggies arm to an uncomfortable and frightening angle. The gang member managed to spin out of the uncomfortable angle and turned to face the agent, kicking his leg into the man’s calf but was shocked by the muscle that was concealed by the man’s pants. The guy didn’t even flinch and instead squeezed on Ruggie’s wrist to make him release the small pistol. The gun was aimed at Ruggies gut and when the trigger was pulled Ruggie just barely managed to twist again to yank the agent off balance and narrowly escape the bullet. Ruggie felt something pop painfully in his shoulder, knowing that he pulled his arm out of socket with his desperate attempt to get free and avoid being shot.

The agent let out an annoyed grunt while Ruggie had to bite his lip to avoid yelling in pain, the man then backhanded Ruggie with the pistol still in his hand, making the gang member tear into his lip a bit and his head was forced back from the impact. Ruggie felt his left leg getting kicked, causing him to fall over as he gasped in pain and blood pooled on his bottom lip, his right cheek stung and was surly bleeding from how the hand and the rough texture of the gun's slide hit his cheek. He attempted to get up but froze as the silencer on the end of the agent’s gun was pressed to his head.

“That was foolish and a waste of time.” The man snarled back and asked with a cold tone. “Now what did you and Sam talk about?”

Ruggie was about to snap back but the man suddenly wrench bach and shot another round at the person racing over to them. But the shot missed as Ruggie’s savior moved quickly before proceeding to kick the gun out of the man’s hand and elbow him right in the face. the blue eyes peered over in surprise to see Jamil standing there, the banker was much faster but not as strong as the man, but that didn’t matter as Jamil took the snake pin off his shirt and jammed it into the assassin's neck. For a moment, it seemed like a normal pin, but the man started to convulse and fell over with short spasms, but he was still making noise meaning that he wasn’t dead.

Jamil walked over to Ruggie, noting the state of the gang member and sighing as he grabbed Ruggie’s right arm and quickly shoved the arm back into place. Ruggie let out a groan of pain but instant relief as the arm’s ache was fading. He rubbed his shoulder for a moment and asked. “What did you do to that guy?”

“Just a homemade tranquilizing fluid, it’s in all my pins.” Jamil stated before helping Ruggie up and then retrieving his pin from the agent’s neck, double checked that the man was still breathing before muttering. “I better not see you harassing others here again..”

Jamil got up and walked off with Ruggie, the two staying silent for a moment before Ruggie spoke up. “Thanks for the assist. How did you know I was in trouble?”

“I’ve been noticing a lot of strange activity, specifically with the spies and assassins roaming around trying to find Sam’s hideout. Just because he’s here often doesn’t mean he lives here though.”

“Do you know where he lives?” Ruggie asked curiously, his right brow raising. Jamil just shook his head and replied while checking his phone.

“No, I doubt anyone does. But because of all this stress, it has Kalim worried that they might start bothering our employees too.”

The gang member nodded in understanding before saying. “Sam mentioned something about..something bad coming. Do you think there’s something more serious going on?”

“If there is then I’m not sure..I’ll ask Kalim about it, he’s friends with practically everyone.” Jamil replied and then asked. “Are you able to get home safely?”

“Oh sure, now that my arm is back in place I can ride my motorcycle.” Ruggie brushed off with a smirk and then waved to Jamil a bit while walking faster ahead of him. “Catch you later, and thanks for the help!”

“Just stay out of trouble!” Jamil shouted back as Ruggie started to flee, burying his concern with annoyance.

Ruggie’s smirk faded as he ran to his motorcycle and hurried to get on and drive straight home. He was really fed up with how the day went, even if some good did come from it. Getting home while enjoying the wind was a moment of peace, letting his mind wander and his body acted on getting him home safely. Ruggie pushed his worries aside as he returned to his grandmother's home, a small one story home that had busted shingles and needed to have the yard mowed and weeded. Plastering on a smile while entering the house, Rugged called out. “Grandma! I’m home!”

His grandmother, a shorter and older version of himself came over and scolded him. “Ruggie! What did you do this time? Your lip is bleeding!”

“Oh I just bit my lip while deep in through grandma, nothing special.”

“I swear, you always come back with such injuries..” she grumbled and lightly ordered him. “Go clean up, dinner will be done soon. And wash your hands! They look dry and dirty!”

Ruggie didn’t argue and only went to the bathroom to clean up, the room was just recently cleaned but there were still stains on the old tile floor and the tub still had an ancient ring around it from years of use. He washed his hands before cleaning up his lip a little then proceeded to go to his bedroom to change into a lazy shirt and sweatpants. While his home may be old and shabby, it was still home to him and his grandma. As he entered the kitchen, he helped his grandma set up the small dining table that was next to the open kitchen and took in her words about him needing to help with the yard work in the morning.

It wasn’t a glamorous life, but it was something nonetheless, and Ruggie added the quarter he found to the jar in the kitchen that was labeled “house repair funds” which he was happy to see was already almost full. He relaxed in his chair and joked with his grandma about her needing to slow down, but he just smiled as she said she was still young. This kind of family was small, and Ruggie liked it that way, a true and honest family that he loved.

[glystenangel]

sacrilege

Priest!Gojo & Demon!Sukuna x Nun&Afab!Reader (Historical AU)

Series Summary: a love triangle between a slut, a priest, and a demon

Chapters: 2/5

Chapter Summary: you meet Sukuna

Status: Completed

Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI, catholic guilt/themes, flirting, demon shit, kinda wholesome vibes

~3.6k

thanks for reading and enjoy<3

Ch. 2 - Visitor

_________________

A man was brought to the convent.

“It’s demonic possession.” Sister Ogami had reported to you and Father Gojo before your next lesson began.

Father Gojo had straightened in his seat, folding his hands in front of his face.

“How long?”

“His family says it’s been almost a month.”

“God has given him extraordinary strength, most wouldn’t last more than a week or two.” He began searching his drawers for his rosary, not looking up until Sister Ogami spoke again.

“The demon won’t release him. His family says their son’s soul has been overtaken and that his last wish was to be brought here, so that they won’t have to see his body be ripped apart once the demon finishes consuming his soul and no longer needs a vessel.”

Father Gojo stilled at hearing the grave diagnosis.

“Where is he?”

_________________

Father Gojo’s robes flapped against the wind and you kept your eyes trained on his shoulders in your vain attempts to catch up to him and Sister Ogami. 

As you followed after the pair, Sister Ogami explained that a blacksmith had come to install bars over one of the stable stalls in the covenant’s nearby barn.

“The bars will be done before sunset, and we have the demon chained to a tree outside of the barn.”

You could see the barn and its surrounding foliage, and your adrenaline was coursing through you as you got closer to where the possessed man sat at the roots of an oak tree.

He seemed calm enough, but he had chains wrapped over his arms and torso, and you could see the silhouette of a muzzle over his mouth.

When he turned his head at the sound of footsteps, you felt the blood drain from your face.

The possessed man was beautiful.

He had rosy colored hair with a dark undercut, and his skin had erupted with dark marks on his forehead and along the sides of his face. The muzzle did little to hide his defined jaw and nose, the gridded shadows of metal caging only emphasizing the attractive dips of his cheekbones and lips. Even with the chains restraining him, he looked strong and his frame was wrapped in wiry, dense muscle. His host was already attractive, but he held an arrogant air that made him seem even more so. Instead of fear, you felt prickles of excitement all over your skin.

Although he appeared human for the most part, you could sense the violent danger he carried within and his gaze was much more akin to that of an animal studying its prey. 

His irises were red with thin pupils, and despite Father Gojo and Sister Ogami being in your company, you were sure that he was looking only at you.

“Demon, what is your name?” Father Gojo stepped in front of you, his voice authoritative and commanding.

“I don’t care to speak to you.” The voice that answered had a resounding deepness, gravelly and rich. It made chills cascade down your back and your breathing hitch. The voice of a demon.

“You must. I am the one who you will be dealing with, and I assure you that I will return Yuji’s body to his family.”

“Yuji has already agreed to let me take his soul. Though I wouldn’t mind taking any of yours as well.”

Even with Father Gojo shielding you, you sensed the demon’s gaze boring into you and Sister Ogami began reciting prayers under her breath. 

“You speak in falsehoods, demon.”

Sukuna only continued to stare at him.

Father Gojo removed his rosary from his pocket, holding it up for Sukuna to see, “It doesn’t matter. I’ll free Yuji from you, I swear it-” 

“On the Lord almighty?” Sukuna gave a derisive snort, “He doesn’t scare me, and neither do you. Our contract is binding, for eternity.”

There was a long moment before Father Gojo spoke again, “Demon, count your days.”

He turned on his heel, and Sister Ogami joined him.

You remained observing the chained figure, and he returned your stare with an odd sense of curiosity.

“My name is Sukuna, one of the demon kings of Hell.” He finally said, breaking the silence.

You hesitated before curtsying and giving him your name, a slight tremor in your legs.

“It is nice to meet you, your majesty.”

He laughed loudly, revealing his sharp canines and he bowed his head in return. At least, as much as he was allowed to by his confinements.

“The pleasure is all mine. After being trapped for years, a pretty sight is the best greeting I could've asked for, especially since every other beauty I’ve seen pales in comparison.”

Your cheeks burned from the excessive compliments.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Please, feel free to reprimand me. Though I may not mind it coming from you.”

You bit your lip, unnerved by his charm.

“May I ask you something please? I desperately need to know.”

He tilted his head, and you took that as a sign to continue.

“What is Hell like? I want to know if my sins were worth it.”

Sukuna didn’t blink for a long time, “What a question.”

“Perhaps trusting a demon to be honest is too far fetched, but…I have to know.” You took a step forward, clasping your hands in front of your chest.

The wind whipped the branches above you sharply, but you barely moved as you waited for Sukuna’s response. 

“I have not returned in centuries, but what I can tell you is that you won’t have anything to worry about.”

You filled with an eerie sense of relief, “Thank you, Sukuna.”

Father Gojo loudly shouting your name pulled you from Sukuna, “Come back at once!”

“Will you come see me tomorrow?”

You slowly blinked at Sukuna’s sudden ask, “Tomorrow? I-”

“Now!” Father Gojo seethed.

“You know my answer already, don’t you?” Sukuna’s eyes widened before he smirked, and you shyly mirrored his expression as you began stepping away from him.

You gathered your skirts and ran to Father Gojo’s side, glancing back at Sukuna apologetically and seeing his shoulders shake with laughter.

“Be careful with her, Gojo.” He called out.

You froze, staring at the white haired man next you as he furrowed his eyebrows.

“You didn’t give him your name, Father.”

“No, I didn’t.”

_________________

Once you had finished your most recent penance and were certain the convent was asleep, you ventured towards the barn with a lit candle in hand.

As soon as you made it to the barn doors, you heard an otherworldly rumble from the inside.

“I was beginning to think you had decided not to come.”

You opened the door, closing it swiftly behind you before shining it upon Sukuna’s makeshift cell.

He was leaned against the bars, his hands wrapped around the metal and observing you intently. You looked down, and you could see they had chained his ankles and that there were more cuffs screwed into the walls by the blacksmith. They didn’t seem to bother him, and you shielded the candle flame as a breeze danced through the barn.

“I had to wait for everyone to fall asleep.”

“Oh? Risking getting in trouble just for me?”

You sat in front of him, placing the candle onto the floor and hugging your knees to your chest. “I am always in trouble. I just wanted some privacy with you.”

The corner of his mouth tugged into a wide smile.

“That makes me happy.”

“Which part?”

“Both.” He crossed his legs and leaned forward, weaving his arms through the gaps and resting them on the floor in front of your feet.

A comfortable silence settled over you both, and his smile didn’t falter for a second.

“How was your day?” He asked.

Somehow from that one question, you two began conversing about anything and everything. 

After a while, you finally asked one of your most pressing questions.

“Why are you here?”

Sukuna let out a thoughtful hum, staring up at the ceiling before leaning forward. The iron framed his face, and the red of his eyes seemed to glisten in ponderance.

“I was trapped in an object by some cultists and buried. My guess is that some boys found it and released me somehow. Foolishly, I should add.”

“Yuji?”

“No, though he tells me they were his friends. I possessed one of them, and when I killed one of the others to consume their soul, Yuji arrived and interrupted the little ceremony. That’s when he made a deal with me to transfer to him and prevent anyone else from dying.”

“What was the deal?”

Sukuna clicked his tongue, “Can you keep a secret? You won’t tell Gojo?”

You nodded, though timidly, and he chuckled.

“You are so cute.”

“Just tell me.” You insisted, scooting closer to the bars.

Sukuna stared into your eyes, “In exchange for allowing his remaining friends and family to live, he nobly promised me his soul and his soul alone.”

You hardly breathed, taken aback by the dire circumstances of the deal. The agreement was admirable and indicative of a remarkable sense of loyalty, if nothing else.

“Luckily, his soul is worth the same as theirs. It’s quite pure and strong. I also needed a healthy body to occupy as I recovered due to lying dormant in an inanimate vessel for so long. Once I finish consuming his vitality and soul, I’ll regain my true form and return to Hell. It’s a good deal, if I do say so myself. Avoiding unnecessary sacrifice is always preferable. God despises bloodbaths, you know. At least the ones He doesn’t cause.”

“Right.” You moved your line of sight down to your hands, scratching at your palms.

“Now tell me, are you afraid of me now?” The demon lightly wrapped a hand around your ankle, guiding your sightline back up to him.

Neutrality settled into his features, though as the pause punctuated the air the edges of his expression began to soften. Your skin grew hot where his palm was placed, and you returned his pressing gaze.

“No.” You were more afraid of your honesty than anything he could do.

He smiled, as if reading your thoughts, and you smiled back.

“Sukuna?”

“Yes?”

“What did you mean by that? About what you said about God.” 

“Oh that? He is absolutely ruthless. Humans die every day, and he was especially bloodthirsty against certain demons during the War on Heaven.” He released you from his brief grip, and you frowned.

“The fall of Lucifer.”

“Yes, I was helping him lead the war against God.”

“And you lost?”

“No, we came to a compromise. We still serve God, but simply do his dirty work. I was an angel before I fell, after all. His child, just like you. He never wants to make his children unhappy, though he’ll still do his best to discipline us.” Sukuna popped his shoulders back, cracking his neck bones.

“What?”

“You didn’t know? I suppose that makes sense, humans have always been terrible liars concerning history. Myself and other demons left Heaven because we hate humans, the idea of serving such lower beings angers us. However, God loves them all. In exchange for kingdoms of our own and being able to torture humans, He sends us the ones who disobey Him and allows us to test them in the mortal realm here on Earth. Free will or agency to choose good and all that. Bless their hearts.”

You went quiet.

“Is that different from what Gojo’s been telling you?” He fisted his hand into his cheek, propping his elbow up with his thigh.

“I’m going back to bed.”

“Wait.” He quickly latched onto your hand, and adrenaline shot up your spine from the touch.

“Will you come back tomorrow?” He asked, eyebrows pinching together and looking at you imploringly.

“Maybe.” You didn’t shake out of his grip, but you didn’t look at him either. 

“I want you to, please come.” You heard him beg.

You set a wary gaze on him. “Why?”

“I enjoy conversing with you. And…you smell nice.” He added the latter statement hesitantly, as if he was afraid it would displease you.

You drew your hand back before hesitantly stroking his cheek, “Goodnight Sukuna.”

“Goodnight.” He leaned into your touch, reaching for it even long after you had gone.

_________________

You didn’t return to the barn for a few days, mulling over everything Sukuna had said and what it meant. It was daunting, but you couldn’t stay away from him. Something in your heart felt strangely comforted by what he had shared with you. Every lustful evil you had committed seemed as though it had a predestined purpose or reason, and that you weren’t alone in succumbing to sin. You were only human after all.

“You came.” 

He was exactly where you had previously left him, sitting cross legged on the barn floor.

“So I have.” You took your seat in front of him, and you could feel him watching over you.

“Is Gojo coming?”

“No, he’s in his study. He’s trying to see if he can find a cure for you- Or Yuji rather.” 

Sukuna reacted minimally, nodding his head with no genuine enthusiasm, “Fun. Have you eaten yet?”

“Yes, the other nuns and I made breakfast. Bread with raspberry jam.”

“You should eat that calf, it’s going to die soon.” Sukuna pointed at the stall to his right.

You followed his finger to look at the calf peacefully asleep against its mother in the hay.

“How do you know?”

“I can smell it, it’s weak. The mother is devastated, but she’ll die soon after. It got its weakness from her.” He scratched at his chin, looking bored. “Grief always has a certain stench. Yuji’s family reeked.”

“You said you like how I smell.”

“I did, because I do. I can smell you before you even arrive. The wind carries your scent beautifully.”

“What do I smell like?”

He closed his eyes, deeply inhaling, “I can’t tell you yet, but it’s divine.”

The vague answer did little to satiate your curiosity, but you decided not to push the demon.

“What does Father Gojo smell like?”

Sukuna opened an eye, peering down at you, “He smells like obsession. It’s a sickly sweet smell. Sometimes, he smells a bit like you. Why would that be?”

You looked down, “Are you asking because you know?”

“I know what you tell me, even without words.”

When you looked back up, tears filled your eyes and he reached up to wipe at your tears with his thumb. The few droplets that had escaped his comforts pooled at the corners of your mouth, and you could taste bitterness and saline.

“It’s okay. It’ll be okay. I’m here now.” 

There seemed to be an unspoken promise in between his words, and for some unknown reason, you believed him.

_________________

You began visiting Sukuna any time you could slip away in the night or whenever you didn’t have lessons with Father Gojo.

Father Gojo was far too immersed in his demonology studies between study sessions to keep track of your activities, but he continually warned you to stay away from Sukuna. Of course, those warnings went ignored.

The barn became one of your sanctuaries, and you wanted to thank Sukuna somehow for the peace he brought you.

“Since you’re returning to Hell, what would you like to do while you are on Earth?” You sat across from him, making annotations in an old bible Father Gojo had given you.

Sukuna shrugged, “Whatever it is you would like to do.”

“Are you sure?”

“I want to experience what you love here.” He affirmed, “Your absolute favorite things.”

You thought for a moment, “We’ll be a bit limited since you are stuck in this cell, but wait here!”

Every day, you brought him something you loved or tried to recreate the happiest moments of your life with him. This included biting into a freshly baked loaf of bread, reading him classic fairy tales from your childhood, sketching memories on pieces of paper while explaining them to each other, and teaching him how to make shadow puppets. The weeks passed by as such, and he indulged your every whim, often thanking you for curing him of the stagnancy being a prisoner brought. Some days, he would ask if you two could repeat an activity, and it filled you with so much joy to see him grow fond of the same things you cherished.

Today, you were weaving flower crowns from the various flower gardens scattered around the convent grounds.

You leaned your back against the bars, pinching the flowers into place as Sukuna passed you stems from the basket at your side. As you worked through the basket’s contents, Sukuna and you conversed. He was always keen on asking you questions about yourself, and today was no different.

“How did you end up in this place?” 

“I pursued pleasure.” You said simply, sending him a shy smile. “I laid with men I wasn’t married to and befriended those less fortunate than I who did the same. In other words, I’m a harlot.”

“Is that why Sister Ogami bathes me and not you?”

You blushed and nearly ripped off a petal, “Yes, Father Gojo says you’re already influencing me too much as well.”

“Huh, they usually chain my arms and legs and muzzle me as well. If anything you would influence me.”

The thought of Sukuna being immobilized as you would try and rub a washcloth on his naked skin made your cheeks flame.

“Don’t joke about that.”

“Pleasure is not something humans enjoy?” He questioned, leaning forward and peering at you through the bars.

“Here, pleasure is a sin. It is shunned, and I’ve been banished to this place because of it.” You explained, trying to keep the desolation out of your voice.

“Pleasure is the language of demons. We feed off of it, encourage it. Pleasure is the gate to hell.” He passed you a particularly gorgeous bloom, and you smiled as you wove it into the center of the crown in your lap. 

“What is the greatest pleasure you’ve ever experienced then?” You asked, adjusting the last knot. Leafy shades of green surrounded petals of pink, white, and orange. It reminded you of childhoods spent drenched in sunlight and cloud watching. Humming happily, you tested the fit of your crown over your habit.

Sukuna paused, flitting his gaze over the planes of your face.

“Meeting you.”

The words wrapped around your heart, melting into the surface and softening it in your chest. Before you could reply, you jumped at the barn door forcefully opening.

“I hate to interrupt, but it’s dinner time. I was hoping I wouldn’t find you here, but…alas, here you are.” 

You swallowed upon seeing Father Gojo stood at the entrance, disgust punctuating his face and his arms crossed. His shoulders seemed tense with irritation, and you hurriedly got to your feet as he walked towards you.

“I’m sorry, Father. I lost track of time.” You slipped the flower crown off of your head, hiding it behind your back.

He shifted his judgemental gaze from you to Sukuna, who sent a cold stare back at him between the bars enclosing his person.

“I told you to stay away from this lowly creature. Is he tempting you?”

You said nothing, giving Sukuna a panicked glance. 

“She can do what she wants.” The demon replied, disinterestedly picking at the flower basket.

You yelped when the priest seized your wrist, making you drop your woven flowers.

“Not with you she can’t.”

Sukuna tilted his head, an aura of danger surrounding him, “Don’t touch her.”

The smirk in Father Gojo’s voice became more prominent as he pulled you into an embrace in front of Sukuna, snaking a hand around your waist from behind and leaning in close to your neck.

“What are you going to do? Jump through the bars? Or perhaps tell someone? Who would believe you? Either way, it’s not your place, demon. She’s mine.”

At that, Sukuna rose to his feet and you saw his eyes fill with absolute fury. Every muscle of his frame seemed to tremble, fueling the visceral threat rasping out of his throat.

“I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Father Gojo only brought you closer, and you barely registered the feeling as Sukuna’s form distorted and morphed. It was as if something inside of the body he was occupying was trying to break free, thrashing and stretching inside with not quite enough room to burst through. You stared in mortification as he began prying the metal apart with his hands, digging his shoulder in between the bars to get to you and the white haired man holding you captive. The space widened centimeter by centimeter, the iron slowly bending to Sukuna’s will. 

Father Gojo’s hands left your body, and he began praying out loud to admonish the demon as Sukuna fired angered curses at him.

“What’s the matter?” 

The other convent members came into the barn, and upon seeing Sukuna’s agitated state, began praying as well. Sister Ogami left to bring holy water, spraying Sukuna with the flicking of a palm branch.

Their collective efforts seemed to weaken Sukuna before he collapsed, the dented bars still on display for the other nuns to fret and gossip over.

Father Gojo triumphantly smiled, walking past you and jutting his chin at Sukuna’s prone body.

“You would do well to stay away from him.”

“You’re a scoundrel.” You defiantly stared at his back as he walked away, clutching your fists to your sides.

He continued walking out of the barn, not even sparing you a glance.

“You’re worse.”

_________________

End Notes:

the girls are fighting :(((((

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[inevitably-johnlocked]

Five Fics Friday: July 8/22

Happy Friday, everyone! It’s been a rough one for me, and I’ve a busy weekend ahead. Hopefully I’ll be able to chill sometime this weekend and get to enjoy one of these fantastic new fics on my MFL list. 

Hope you guys enjoy!

SIGNAL BOOSTING

Genius is a Star Whose Light (is Soon to Sink in Endless Night) by LoloLolly (M, 3,400+ w., 1/10 Ch. || Canon Compliant Through TFP, Aftermath of Serbia, Alternating POV,  Established / New Relationship, Parentlock, Explicit Torture, Mentions of PTSD, Mentions of Human Trafficking, References to Child Abuse, Violence, Kidnapping, Captivity, Angst with Happy Ending, Fluff, Case Fic, BAMF John, Sherlock Whump, Mycroft and John Work Together) – Sherlock had buried the past. Shut Serbia away in the attic of his mind palace. Muddy footprints at a heinous crime scene, however, have led him right back to old enemies. And right back to captivity. For God’s sake, Mycroft. Part 2 of the Earthly Pomp (Is But a Dream) series

RECENT MFLs

Out of the Shadow of Missed Chances by MargueriteSomebodyoranother   (T, 1,132 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post TRF / TEH Fic, Reunion, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining) – He’d had eighteen months - it seemed like a goddamned eternity at the time - and he never uttered a word.

Family by bluebellofbakerstreet (G, 1,919 w., 1 Ch. || Art Fic / Text in Images, Parentlock, Mycroft POV, Fluff, Background Mystrade) – Mycroft Holmes keeps an eye on Rosie Watson. Strictly for the sake of security. Excerpts from a confidential file.

By the Rivers of Babylon by verdant_fire (T, 3,359 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post HLV Canon Divergence, Love Declarations, Exile, Pining Sherlock, Longing, Angst, POV Sherlock, Reunions, First Kiss) – Sherlock goes back to Serbia, and endures exile, boredom/torture, and a certain chemical defect, for the sake of one person and three improbable words.

Winter to Spring by standbygo (E, 19,416 w., 10 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post S4, Post-Nuclear War, Parenthood, Danger, BAMF Sherlock, Whump, Angst with Happy Ending) – Sherlock is babysitting Rosie when the ultimate disaster strikes London. There will be fear, there will be danger, there will be despair - but in the end, there will be love.

[starglitterz]

holiday movie marathon !

summary ; binging movies with xiao, but is he really even watching?

feat ; xiao x gn!reader

a/n ; day 16 of eri’s ( @xiaosmoon ) holiday writing collab !! :D thank u for organising this collab hehe, it's such a cute and fun idea for xmas omg :DDD

please reblog ! it helps a lot :)

xiao.

"woah, that was so cute! did you like it, xiao?" you can't stop yourself from grinning as you tilt your head up to look at your boyfriend. it's the morning of the day before christmas eve, and you somehow managed to convince your lover not to worry about the party you're hosting on christmas day, and instead take some time off from planning to spend with you. soft amber fairy lights illuminate the room, strung up on the shelves creaking under the weight of all the trinkets you two have stacked on them. it's cold, courtesy of the gentle snowfall outside your window which has painted the world into a white wonderland of ice.

but with xiao cuddling you this close, you barely even feel the chill. in fact, you're almost warm, and you can't tell if it's because of the heat in your cheeks or xiao's proximity. he's lying behind you on the sofa, chin resting on your head with his hands intertwined with yours on your stomach as you both lie on your side to focus on the screen. a fuzzy blanket checked with red and green squares is tossed over the two of you, though xiao's ensured you're perfectly tucked in and comfortable. occasionally, he even presses a kiss onto the top of your head, though he might spontaneously combust if you tease him about it.

"hm?" a soft noise of surprise sounds from xiao, as if he'd been jolted out of his thoughts by your query. "the movie. did you like it?" you repeat your question. "ah yes, it was quite entertaining," he mumbles in reply, unable to meet your gaze. "well then, what was your favourite part?" you jut out your bottom lip – you've long since learned that your so-called 'puppy eyes' are undeniable to xiao, and are therefore perfect for this interrogation. his golden eyes widen for a second before he regains his composure, "i liked the part where he set traps for the robbers." you frown, pretending to be terribly upset as you exhale while wiping away imaginary tears, "xiao, that was home alone! three movies ago!"

"oh," xiao's jaw drops, and he sighs, "i'm sorry, dove. they all started to blend together after a bit - so much christmas cheer." he shudders, and you laugh, "okay, grinch. were you sleeping this whole time?" "to be honest," your boyfriend rubs the back of his neck as a light blush colours his cheeks rosy red, "i was watching you." it feels like your brain stops functioning, "what?!" "i mean, the movies started getting boring, and your reactions were very... cute to see, so i started focusing on you instead," xiao makes eye contact with you, and now you're not sure who's more embarrassed; xiao for actually admitting the truth, or you for being on the receiving end of his confession.

"well, i guess there's nothing else to do but give you this punishment!" "what-" before he can finish his sentence, you fling your arms around his neck and pepper his face with enthusiastic kisses, wondering absently if he can taste your smile. a few moments pass, and you lean your forehead against his, "xiao, you're adorable! i love you and i'm glad i can spend these holidays with you." caught off-guard by the sudden praise, xiao flushes, his gaze softening with affection glimmering in his honey irises, "i love you too, dove. i'm honoured to share this special time with you."

after pressing another warm kiss against his plush lips, you giggle, tapping his nose once, "don't think you can get out of watching more holiday movies with me though!" "yet another... do i really have to?" xiao groans, but gives in a second later when you pout, "alright, fine. i'm only doing this because it's you, and if you tell the others about this-" "yay! love you, xiao," you turn around from where you were scrolling through netflix and nuzzle into his cheek. xiao buries his face on your head to hide his shyness, but you manage to hear him murmur, "hmph! no respect for the adepti."

quill speaks !

no bc i accidentally posted this a day late bc i fell asleep while writing it 💀 eri ily thank u for being so sweet abt it <33 :>

ALSO now i suddenly have an urge to watch xmas movies,,, and is home alone actually a christmas movie just bc it takes place at the same time ??? LMFAOO idk what classifies as a xmas movie 😭

anyways ily all gn !! and i'll get back to the specialised drabbles for moots tmrw hehe <33

taglist ; @ilyquill / @ayra2452008 / @mooscutely / @simplyxsinned / @chichikoi / @keokomi / @genshiningg / @hqrbinger / @lilikags / @hushyouu / @the-gayest-sky-kid / @thalia-prior-of-ravenclaw / @almondoufu / @xiaoxiaoo / @cruxdou / @mayple / @test-tube / @yeetmeoffjueyunkarst / @keiq0 / @solar-shatter / @irethepotato / @van-chii

© starglitterz 2021. do not repost or modify in any way – reblog / follow if you enjoyed !

[staysuki]

𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕪 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕒 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕖 (3)

➼ genre: a little fluff, a tiny bit of angst, smut ➼ warnings: slight exhibitionism, fingering, praising, oral (m receiving), protected sex, riding ➼ disclaimer: this does not reflect the real life personalities of the Stray Kids members that will appear in this fic ➼ word count: 3.4k ➼ pairing: afab!reader x idol!hyunjin (AU where he can go out and not be recognized)

PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

It’s been a week but you haven’t seen Hyunjin since that trainwreck of a netflix and chill— because you ghosted him, shamefully so. You’ve ignored his texts and made up every sort of lame excuse to avoid hanging out with him and you’ve begged Lia to find a different club to take you. 

“Bad date?” you remembered her asking when you brought up the idea, and since you couldn’t really tell her the whole story, you just nodded along. It’s not like this would ever come up in the future again, especially since you were determined to shut this whole era of your life down.

Why? Simply because you were scared. Yes, he seemed sincere that he liked you, but to what extent? How much feelings could you harbor to a person that you’ve known for less than a day? Dating a celebrity is already complicated, what’s more if it's a celebrity that you only planned to sleep with for a night.

But, alas, it seems like fate has other plans for you because one dreadful evening, your co-worker has to get off early so you were left taking over his deliveries— and what would you know, three large Wintermelon milk teas on an unnervingly familiar suburban address. You asked around, seeing if there was anyone around the shop who could take the order but apparently, none of them could drive. Great. Just your luck.

You pulled down the cap lower to your face as you ascended the porch steps, looking down so your face wouldn’t have to be visible to the customer. You thought about changing the tone of your voice but opted out of it because you didn’t wanna appear stupid. As you rang the doorbell, you felt your nerves counting down till the moment the door opens.

3..

2..

1..

“Milktea delivery! That will be forty dollars and— hey!” You feel your cap being snatched from your head and your eyes are met with a familiar gaze, “—and fifty nine cents.”

His gaze was unreadable… perhaps shock? Disappointment? Hurt? Confusion? Nonetheless, he seemed to take his sweet time in retrieving the payment.

“So, how much do I have to tip to get you to stay for a while?” His tone was low and needy, you felt small as he leaned on the doorframe to stare down at you, sending chills all over your spine.

“S-sorry sir, we don’t really offer anything like that.” You gulped, feeling nervous around him for some reason. Probably because you ghosted him for a week and now you didn’t know how to act as you were thrown into this situation.

His eyebrow quirked up at your reaction, a sly smirk making its way to his lips. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” He leaned down on your ear, making your shoulders tense but you couldn’t seem to find it in you to back away. “—unless you want me to.”

He threw you a wink as he pulled back, utterly satisfied with how he successfully painted your cheeks a rosy tint of blush, he handed you a large bill before taking the order from your hands. “Keep the change.”

“This is a hundred dollars.”

“I know.”—and with that, the door closed in on your face.

You let out a sigh that you didn’t know you were holding as your tensed shoulders sagged in relief. That went better than expected, you thought.

But the following days were followed by continuous orders from the same address. So by day three, you finally got the hint.

“Hey, Jeremy, I’ll take this one, is that okay?” You asked your co-worker who was in charge of deliveries.

“By all means, please, that asshat never tips.” He rolled his eyes as he threw you the keys. Thrown aback by his statement. You felt like you were marching right into his trap as you stepped on the delivery car, fully knowing that he didn’t tip your coworker for the slight chance that he’d pass it off to someone else.

You walked up the specific set of porch steps once again and rang the doorbell, this time, with the initiative to confront the weird man.

“Y/N! What a surprise!” He feigned innocence, holding his hand to his chest as he revelled in your presence.

“Please, cut the bs. It’s either you’re in an episode of My Strange Addiction or you’ve been having nonstop milktea-themed parties in here.” He just shrugged at your words taking his order.

“What can I say, I love milktea.”

“Look, if it’s about me ghosting you, I’m sorry, okay? Can you please stop now?” His face was crestfallen, the words he was waiting but dreading to hear.

He ran a hand through his long blonde hair in frustration, finally dropping the coy act. “Look, I just— I just thought we were finally starting to have something and then you close in on me and ghost me. Did I do something wrong? Did I come off too strong? Was I—”

“Okay stop, stop, stop.” You held a face to his hand, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. You sighed, mentally preparing yourself with the words you couldn’t believe were going to come out of your mouth. “I’ll drop by later but I need to finish work first.”

His face lit up, coughing to hide his excitement from rising up too much. He once again handed you a hundred dollar bill telling you to keep the change—

“Our other delivery guy said you don’t tip.” You narrowed your eyes at him in suspicion and he just threw you a sheepish smile.

“I have my favorites. Okay, bye!”

The door once again closed on your face with a gentle slam before you could go on a tangent about that’s not how tipping should work but you just shrugged, walking back to the car as you collected your thoughts for whatever may happen later.

“Hey, come in.” Hyunjin welcomed you back into his home, leading you into the living room but this time, you could tell that he was a bit more apprehensive in being physical with you.

You’ve always observed how much of a touchy guy he is, always leading you with a hand on the small of your back, or by the shoulders. But this time, he simply pointed to the couch as he made his way to the kitchen to fix you guys some drinks.

“What do you want to drink?” He asked, barely looking up from the counter to focus on his task.

“Non-alcoholic, please, I have classes tomorrow.” He nods, taking a pitcher of juice in the fridge, and you could see the entire row of Wintermelon milk tea collection that he has been keeping.

“Dude— I thought you had guests over. Were you drinking all of those orders?” You asked, wide-eyed in amusement and he slammed the fridge shut in panic, an embarrassed blush creeping up on his ears.

“No— I… whatever.” He waved you off, keeping himself from getting embarrassed any further.

You rolled your eyes at his silliness, “Just give me one of them, I’ll help you finish it.”

He groaned at your teasing but obliged, putting the juice back to get you both a serving of milk tea instead.

“I’m so sick of boba now.” He said, handing you the cup before sitting down next to you.

“You didn’t have to order so many.”

“Yeah but I didn’t know how else to reach you.” He looked everywhere but your eyes as he scratched the back of his neck.

“Look— Hyunjin,” You turned to face him on the couch, “I’m really sorry. It’s not you… it’s me.” Your eyes met each other in a deep stare before bursting out into fits of laughter.

“Are you breaking up with me already?” His gleeful smile held a hint of amusement at your choice of words, and you matched his same energy.

“I didn’t know how else to say it! It’s really not your fault I swear.” You turned serious again, and he took a deep breath, collecting himself as you both went back to your talk. “It’s just… you’re a celebrity okay? It’s just so hard to get past that. I’m a simple college student who works part time at a boba shop, our worlds couldn’t be more different.”

“Why does it have to be the same?”

You shrugged, “Comfort?”

He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again, opting to just stay silent and wait for your next words.

“It’s just that— I want someone I can go on dates with, you know? And not worry about getting recognized or keeping a secret. I don’t want to wake up every morning thinking about whether or not stan twitter already has information about us and then I’d have to worry about them finding out about me, my address, attacking me. You know?”

He nodded at your words, in deep thought. You continued,

“I wouldn’t mind keeping in touch and seeing each other but being in a relationship that’s a bit… eh. I think we’re sneaky links at best. And yeah, that’s all I have to say.”

You took a long sip of the Wintermelon, mending your parched throat as you nervously waited for him to say something. You were fully ready to cut off ties with him but something inside within the deepest parts of your hearts felt a little… indignant. A little part of you that screams what if. What if you can make it work. What if it’s worth the shot. What if you’re willing to work for it.

“How about we go on a date and see where that leads us?” He asked, his eyes soft and pleading, you couldn’t help but feel weak in the knees— thankfully you were sitting.

“Okay.”

He was taken aback with your fast agreement, duly ready to ask again and again till you were ready. He broke out into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on him, his eyes twinkled in the shape of crests. 

“Meet me here at 4PM tomorrow and I’ll take us somewhere nice— wear something cute.” were the last words Hyunjin had uttered when he walked you back to your car and sent you off. You would be lying if you said you weren’t excited so you immediately went to ask Lia for fashion advice and you settled with wearing a breezy white dress that reached your knees.

Fortunately enough, despite Hyunjin’s mystery location (because he wouldn’t tell you no matter how much you asked), the dress was a great idea for a wonderful afternoon of— picnicking.

Yes, if you thought that this handsome guy who was whipped for you couldn’t get better, he brought you to a nice refreshing picnic grove. With a basket in his hands, you helped yourselves settle on a nice secluded spot together, laying out a stereotypical checkered blanket.

“Did you make all of these?” You asked as you eyed the contents of the basket filled with fruit bowls, finger sandwiches, and cake for dessert.

“Would it make you like me better if I said yes?” He threw you a sly smirk, oozing with charisma and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “I’m kidding, except for the cake, yes.” He answered truthfully and you nodded. Impressive feat, nonetheless.

“Not gonna lie, I didn’t expect this.” You said, looking over at the luscious greenery spread out in front of you, just a few feet away was the running sparkly river that called upon wind on an otherwise humid day.

“Well you said you wanted to go on dates without worry so… do you see anyone around?” He gestured his hands on the empty surroundings. 

He was right, there were no people in their area because most of the people here really visit for the seclusion. Everyone else was in hidden corners enjoying their private times. And if there were ever passersby that wanted to walk around the place, they were mostly couples in the senior citizen age that wanted to enjoy a brisk peaceful walk within nature— basically, an age range that was probably way out of the boy band’s target demographic.

The whole afternoon was spent in comfortable silence, Hyunjin leaned on the tree, watching some drama on his phone while you opted to make the most out of your environment by burying your face in a book, comfortably resting your head on Hyunjin’s lap.

It was a delightful date, nothing but nature and the sound of cicadas all around you. And some time within the hour, you found yourself sitting between Hyunjin’s legs, leaning your back to his chest as he held the phone in front of both of you so you could also enjoy whatever drama he was binging.

“No horror this time?” You teased, which earned a whiny groan from Hyunjin before he attacked your ticklish sides. “I’m kidding! Stop stop stop!”

You felt his chest vibrate as he chuckled, stopping his attack but not making any move to remove the arm that was now resting over your waist, the other one holding the phone. In a fit of bravery, you took Hyunjin’s phone from his hand and he seemed to have gotten the memo, now enveloping you in a comfortable back hug, his chin resting on your shoulder.

You spent what felt like eternity in a peaceful state until a particular steamy scene came into the screen, crashing both of your serenity with a wave of awkwardness— despite sleeping together twice.

You felt him tense behind you and you were sure that he could feel how fast you were breathing. The goosebumps on your skin forming with your hyper awareness of each of his micro movements, the way his fingers made small circles on your waist, the rise and fall of his chest, the way his long blonde hair would tickle your neck every time a generous breeze passed by.

“Y/n? You okay?” He asked, you could feel the smirk evident on his voice, his voice in a low husky tone as he teased your nervous demeanor.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You braved, turning your head to face him, finding your lips inches from each other. He wasted no time diving in, making you feel the soft plumpness of his lips on yours as they moved against each other in a heated passion.

He separated from yours to travel down the side of your jaw, sucking down shamelessly as he trailed down your neck, you couldn’t stop the whine that slipped past your lips that put his neediness to the roof, feeling his hard member poking on your back.

“H-Hyunjin, someone might see.” You fought but your body was already subjecting itself to him, your head tilted to the side to give him more access, you could feel yourself getting wetter as he trailed his hand over your breasts, caressing the skin under your dress as he let them travel all over your thighs, avoiding the place you needed him most, constantly teasing you.

“Then keep watching for me, baby, I could stop if someone passes by.” He whispered hungrily as he nibbled on your earlobe, you tried your best to hold the phone at eye level whilst he peppered more purple bruises on your neck, but your arms felt weaker by the second.

You couldn’t help but drop the phone when you felt the lightest touch over your core, the minutes of foreplay already sending you into hypersensitivity. Hyunjin promptly stopped the loud moan threatening to slip past your lips by putting his long fingers inside your mouth, prompting you to suck which you obliged to do. The feeling of your mouth making his member twitch inside his tight slacks.

“Shhh, be good for me, will you?” He whispered, helping you prop the phone up once again and you nodded, eager to accept more of his pleasure.

He slid your underwear to the side, moaning at the feeling of your slick wetness, rubbing slow circles all over, purposely avoiding your clit. Your head dropped back on his shoulder as he inserted one finger inside you and he captured your lips into his, swallowing your moans of pleasure. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me.”

He let his other hand make its way to fondle your breasts, pulling down the sleeve of your dress to expose your supple skin out in the open, pinching your nipple as he inserted another finger in. You could feel yourself going crazy as you clenched all around him, not able to take the amount of stimulation and pleasure. Not even caring if someone could be seeing your lewd actions within the trees.

Hyunjin felt you getting close and retracted his hands, the sudden loss of pleasure putting you back in sobriety— “H-hyunjin, please.” You whined, turning around to face him, his half-lidded eyes looking down at you with intense lust.

“Why don’t we take this back to my place?” He smirked, knowing full well how much he was teasing your climax and depriving you of it on purpose.

“I need you now, please.”

“How much?”

You palmed his hard on over his slacks, earning a slight hiss from him, surprised by your sudden action. You captured his lips as you sat on his lap facing him, quickly unbuckling his belt and freeing his member. “Y-y/n..” He moaned, gripping your waist for mercy as you rubbed the precum all over his head, teasing him with gentle strokes.

You returned the favor of putting markings all over his neck, traveling down his jaw and sucking all over his collarbone. You made your way down until you were face to face with his cock, eyeing it with hunger, Hyunjin watched you in lustful anticipation as you licked a stripe on his veiny member, eliciting a deep groan as you took in his length. He couldn’t stop himself from grabbing your hair and pushing you further over his throbbing member.

“Ah fuck, so good for me princess,” You felt yourself hungrily clenching over his words, ringing over your ears like sinful temptation as you slowly bobbed your head up and down. After a few thrusts, he pulled your head up, meeting your lips in a passionate kiss as you heard his hands fumble over something inside the basket.

“Were you planning this?” Your face painted with shocked disbelief at the packet he had retrieved from inside the basket. His face breaking out into a devilish smirk.

“You can’t fault me for hoping, can’t you?” He fired back as he pulled you back into his lap, rolling the rubber on his length before settling you above him.

You held onto his shoulders as you slowly let yourself sink down, gasping out a whine as you took his dick inch by inch. He hissed, gripping your waist tightly to control himself from tearing you in half with one strong thrust, he knew he needed to adjust no matter how much agony the slow descent was giving him.

As you felt him bottom out, you gave yourself a few seconds to adjust before slowly, giving him the go-signal. He met your thrusts in a slow pace, building to a faster one. Your cries of pleasure barely being drowned out by the moving river as release threatened to spill from both of you due to the amount of foreplay beforehand.

You were clenching at the intense pleasure which drove Hyunjin insane, barely able to make out coherent words, “F-fuck, you’re so tight— so good baby fuck.” You answered him with moans of your own, burying your face on the crook of his neck as he reached down to rub circles on your clit, driving you over the edge.

“H-Hyunjin I’m—” your thrusts increased in inhumane speed as you both tried to reach your high.

“Cum for me baby.” he growled in your ear, and that was all it took for you to lose all inhibitions as your body trembled in extreme pleasure, releasing all over his length as he helped you ride your high.

Moments later and he reached the same nirvana, biting your neck to prevent himself from screaming out in intense pleasure, you felt his cock twitch inside you as he spilled all over the rubber.

Fuck, that was too good. You thought to yourself as you both tried to catch your breaths, not a single one making any attempts to move as you just stared into each other’s orbs.

And maybe, just maybe, you were more whipped than you would like to admit. ——————————————————————————————

READ:

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 4 Epilogue (optional read)

taglist: @minaamhh @straytannies @http-hyxnjxn @summikii @rindomo @changbinscypher @2minchan23 @adoraben @freyaniobe @19yearsmemories @itsallaboutclassic​ @madz-world-art @6slyme​ 

[edwardskhakipants]

I'm reading ch 4 of your Eclipse story and HEY you can't just side-mention the Scrabble Incident of 1973!! What happened on that fateful day?

E-POV, 1973

Esme had one arm wrapped around Rosalie’s waist and her other hand clamped onto my arm, dragging us towards her newest attempt at family bonding: a board game named Scrabble.

“It’s basically like playing a game by yourself!” she explained to us, while also rationalizing her request to herself, “We get our own letters, we only place them on the same board. There’s hardly any interaction at all!”

She pushed me into a spot on the couch in front of the board game that had already been set up on our new coffee table.

She explained the rules quickly, then held up a little, velvet bag, “You pick your tiles from here,” she held it out, “Youngest first.”

I grinned at Rose until I realized Esme was referring to me.

“Go on, Little Brother,” Rosalie smiled, knowing good and well how much I hated being referred to as her little brother, despite being twenty-two years older than her.

Frowning, I snatched the bag and drew the appropriate tiles. I was pleased that the luck of the draw had given me a seven-letter word to play right out of the gate. Feeling proud, I arranged it neatly in the center of the board.

PHEONIX

Rosalie flicked the P at my face, “Proper noun.”

I caught the tile and placed it back into position, “It’s also a mythical bird.”

“Esme?”

Esme paged through her new Scrabble dictionary—the book that supposedly told us what were real words according to the Scrabble gods, “Sorry, sweetie, it’s not in here.”

Squashed under Rose’s self-satisfaction, I reduced the letters to PHONE.

After a few more turns in silence, Rosalie picked on up on a pattern. “Esme,” she took a deep breath to calm herself, “Edward is only playing in places I want to go.”

“What do you mean, Rosie?”

“Look,” she pointed to the board, “He could have played CODEX off your D to get the Double Word Score, but instead, he played COAXED just to stop me from going here!” She ran her finger down the board, where my C now blocked her from making her move. “He made a worse play just to ruin my turn!”

“You have no evidence to prove that,” I argued.

“The only evidence I need is that smug, stupid face of yours,” she growled.

“Rose, just make a back-up plan. Edward, stay out of your sister's head.” Esme had bigger problems than bickering children—she had to figure out what to do with two V’s and an M.

We continued the game. Esme quickly took the lead while Rosalie straggled behind. After a few more quiet turns, Rosalie abruptly turned my letter rack so it was facing her.

“Hey!” I protested.

“You can see my letters, it's only fair that I get to see yours,” she bristled, her eyes flitting between my letters and the board.

“Ugh, I knew it,” she growled, “You could have played HAWK, but you played CAKE to mess me up!” she took CAKE off the board and started placing down the letters for HAWK, “Here, let me help you.”

I tried to put back my tiles, but she kept moving them. “Stop doing that!”

“Then stop playing just to screw me up!”

I slammed my hand on the table and stood to loom over her, “It’s called playing defensively.”

“Watch the table, Edward,” Esme warned in a low voice.

Rosalie stood along with me, “It’s called being an obnoxious cheater!”

“Kids this is my first live-edge table. Made from a tree at our very first home.” Esme’s reminder fell upon deaf ears.  

“You know what words you could have played instead, you little brat?” Rosalie challenged. It was clearly a rhetorical question.

I smiled, gesturing for her to bring it on.

She elbowed me in the temple, “HEAD!”

She wound back to punch me in the face, “DECK!”

She bit off a chunk of my shoulder and spat it out, “CHEW”

She clasped her hands together and slammed her double fist down on my neck, “WHACK”

“And do you know what word you can play?” I asked, a huge grin spread across my face, despite the injuries.

If I were human, I would have caught pneumonia from the icy chill of her stare.

“Right here on this R.” I pointed to the board “LOSER,” I whispered, over-enunciating each letter.

Her guttural scream shook the trees around the house and she dove at me, slamming us both into the table.  

[reneesi]

i never would have thought // CH.05

WRITTEN PORTION

The warm summer air was just beginning to fade into cool mornings that pricked at the skin, leaving sharp gusts of wind to chill (y/n) until goosebumps dotted her arms. She stared up at the cerulean sky, arms now crossed to hug around her body. It would be cold enough for hot chocolate and wooly scarves soon, she thought, smiling as the skip in her step piped up to match the excitement bubbling beneath her chest.

She was on her way to the big gym to bother Shoyo, before practice started of course. As she walked in she immediately noticed Tsukishima sat near a corner, chatting in a low voice with Yamaguchi who had perched himself in a squatting position only a few feet in front of his best friend.

(Y/n) felt the familiar tug of concern aching her feet to move towards him, and ask if he was ok, but instead she curled her toes from inside her shoes and turned to face her original objective. She didn’t need to go over there and make things worse, she convinced herself, rearranging her thoughts to exclude Tsukishima once more.

Shoyo and Kageyama were practicing receives. Well really Shoyo was trying to revive the ball and Kageyama was just yelling words of what must have been some deformed version of encouragements.

“Idiot, you almost had it!” he barked, scowl pressed permanently across his lips

(Y/n) stifled a giggle, skipping over to stand behind Kageyama in hopes of distracting Shoyo.

“Good morning my lovely cousin, did you decide to grow a pair and get out of bed~” (Y/n) teased, in her signature sing song voice she only ever used for maximum annoyance. Shoyo missed the receive and stumbled to the side, volleyball bouncing off towards the far side of the gym.  

His head snapped up, deadly glare already in place.

“Nice to see you finally decided to get off twitter and join us.” Shoyo retorted spitefully. Kageyema looked between the two, half confused and half annoyed (but probably mostly annoyed).

“Interesting to see you’d show your face here after i declared a hit on you this morning.” Shoyo’s added after another moment of tension, eyes narrowing. (Y/n) laughed in sarcastic mockery.

“Oh come now Shoyo, dear, you can’t actually believe i’d be afraid of you!” She smirked, adding fake poshness for the sake of dramatics.

Shoyo‘s feet had readied themselves in a runners stance, he inched back just about ready to pounce. (Y/n) stood perfectly still, reading her cousins every movement in anticipation for what was sure to come, she just needed one extra second and she was sure she’d be able to make her getaway.

“Well maybe yOU SHOULD BE AFRAID!” Shoyo roared, lunging forward to chase after (Y/n). Thinking fast as she often did, (y/n) spun to run around Kageyama ducking at Shoyo’s many attempt to grab at her sweater. As she ran, (y/n) was looking back at Shoyo with quick glances, making sure to dodge him as needed. It was because of this that (y/n) bumped into Kageyama, causing him to stumble and then subsequently making Shoyo crash right into his chest. This time neither boys fell, just stood pressed against each other at the chest for a millisecond before stumbling back.

Shoyo’s cheeks flared. His death glare had already begun to melt into a horrified mix of fear and embarrassment and before she knew it, (y/n) had not one but two volleyball players chasing her around the gym. Both players sporting matching tints of rosy red below their eyes, and murderous screams.

(Y/n) only laughed, giggles bursting out as she evaded their grasps, barley escaping every time. And the smile spread wide across her lips would have stayed there for the rest of the day, had she not noticed Tsukishima staring out of the corner of her eye.

CH.05 II i tolerate you.

A/N: EARLY CHAPTER!! YAY!! Please take this as my apology for the late update yesterday/this morning. Tomorrow’s chapter will still upload as scheduled so i’m basically posting an extra chapter this week. As a treat (●´ω｀●) ♡♡

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Tagslist: @domtamaki​ @kodzu-ken​ @clowninfortodoroki​ @kageyamasbabygorl​ @miya-yume​ @chaelysian​ @kittyddandnyla​ @chaseyui​ @it-was-just-a-ship​ @melanie09astrid​ @naorii-chan​ @chaoticalybiased

[lokimostly]

Polaris (Ch.16/?)

Loki x Reader, Pirate!AU

Word Count: 4,466

Warnings: violence, language

Summary: Your life has always been set in stone. Born to a wealthy merchant family in the Caribbean, you’ve spent your years as an heiress in the daytime, escaping at night to wander the streets of St. Thomas. Now, on the eve before your life settles into mundanity for good, you discover someone who could change everything– if you choose to trust him, that is.

A/N: As promised, this chapter is entirely from Loki’s perspective! Don’t worry, we’ll get back to our debutante reader soon. For now, this is his part of the story. Let’s let him tell it.

Chapter One ~ Chapter Two ~ Chapter Three  ~ Chapter Four ~  Chapter Five ~ Chapter Six ~ Chapter Seven ~ Chapter Eight ~ Chapter Nine ~ Chapter Ten ~ Chapter Eleven ~ Chapter Twelve ~ Chapter Thirteen ~ Chapter Fourteen ~ Chapter Fifteen

The sun was making its first appearance over the glass sea, turning the sky pink and lighting on the waves with a rosy glow. The clouds were as pale and wispy as stretched cotton. As the sunrise dimmed the map of stars above, it burned bright in the reflection of Loki’s bloodshot eyes, staring out at the waves as they turned to gold.

His hands were already blistered from rowing. The sinew of his muscles had been stretched to their limit a few hours ago, and so he had let go of the oars to hold his head in his hands instead, filled with a despair that felt larger than the ocean around him. Hot, frustrated tears fell from his eyes, more to try and soothe their dryness than to curb the aching in his chest. Perhaps it was a mix of both. It was only in raising his head to dry his eyes, blinking away the water and fatigue, that he saw the merchant ship approaching.

Loki’s brows pulled together. It was a trading company ship; not Odin’s. Rather small. The bell on deck was ringing, signaling a man overboard as they approached, and a few seconds later, a rope landed in Loki’s lap.

Several pairs of hands helped haul him over the side, pulling him onto the deck, but they were quick to leave him; Loki’s reddened eyes and haggard look gave him a frightening aura, one that the men obviously weren’t keen to hang around. He slowly straightened his posture, rolling his sore shoulders and looking down at the Captain, standing in front of him. 

Loki gave him a single glance, surveying him without much consideration. He was small and portly with receding hair, hardly intimidating– though clearly he was doing his best to look nonplussed by Loki’s sudden and unexpected arrival.

“Glad to have you aboard, sir,” he greeted, as warmly as he was able. “I’m Cap’n Montgomery, and this’s my ship The Duchess. How’d you wind up all the way out here?”

Loki didn’t answer. He stood still on the rocking deck, his posture stiff, looking out at the pale dawn sky with a hardened expression. 

Captain Montgomery waited awkwardly for his response, shifting his posture. Then he cleared his throat. “Perhaps you’d like to talk elsewhere?” He gestured to the doors that led to the Captain’s cabin.

Loki’s eyes trailed to the left, and he nodded. He followed the Captain inside, walking slow and cat-like with a look of apprehension as he stepped over the threshold. His eyes were quick in surveying the small room, unadorned by lavish decor. The only notable object of interest was the mahogany desk that Captain Montgomery sat himself behind, setting his elbows atop its surface and waiting for Loki to close the door.

He did so, and stepped over. The ship’s charter laid open-faced by the Captain’s hand, and Loki’s dark eyebrows pulled together. “Where is this vessel headed?”

Captain Montgomery’s eyebrows raised and he held out his hand in a stopping motion. “Now, hang on a minute. I have some questions to ask you first–”

Loki reached forward and spun the paper to face him, scanning the lines. “Kingston?”

The Captain’s eyes flickered. “Aye, that’s right, sir.”

Loki’s frown deepened. “That is exactly the opposite of where I need to go,” Loki muttered in annoyance.

The man shifted in his seat, visibly uncomfortable. “Well–”

“What day is it?” Loki interrupted again, looking up at him. His gaze was sharp enough to cut glass. They might have been a different color, but when he wanted them to, Loki’s eyes could hold just as much chill as his father’s. 

The Captain blinked. “Uh– the first of August, sir.”

“What was your name again?”

“Mont– Montgomery. Captain Montgomery.”

Loki hummed shortly, leaning on the desk. He glanced back at the closed doors, then returned to the paper in front of him, running a finger over his lip in thought. The captain watched him uneasily as he stood there, still as stone, with nothing but the rocking of the ship to mark the passage of time.

Suddenly Loki reached forward and grabbed the captain by the collar, slamming his face into the mahogany and twisting his arm behind his back in one fluid motion. The Captain shouted in surprised pain, only to be silenced when Loki twisted his arm further, his lips curled in a snarl.

“Listen to me very carefully, Montgomery,” he threatened between his teeth. “It is in our mutual best interests that you take this ship to St. Thomas immediately. One more inch in the wrong direction and this arm will break. If you don’t do as I say, the same thing will happen to your neck.”

The Captain struggled fruitlessly beneath Loki’s grip, his face squashed against the desk in a contorted expression of anger. “You – you bastard!”

“Pirate,” Loki corrected, applying the slightest fraction of pressure. It was enough to make the captain gasp and pant in pain. “Do we understand each other, Montgomery?”

“It’ll–” The Captain wheezed, struggling to speak. “It’ll take more’n three days to get there. The wind… the wind’s against us.”

“Then you should bear a hand and tell your men to come around,” Loki suggested coldly, and let go of him. Captain Montgomery stood up so fast that he stumbled backwards, holding his arm and staring at Loki with frightened eyes. He darted past Loki and out of the cabin, running faster than Loki suspected he ever had in his life. Judging by his portly stature, it was probably a good thing for him. Nothing like a healthy fear of death to keep you fit.

Loki stood in the empty cabin and listened to the muted sounds of the captain shouting orders above, and he tightened his jaw, reaching into his pocket. The cold coin was there, safely stowed away. He rubbed it between his fingers, smoothing over the serpent’s pattern with the pad of his thumb. His eyes drifted to the window. Somewhere, out there, you were being held in a cell – stuck behind rusted bars while the sand in the hourglass slowly sifted through.

August the first. That meant he had until the end of the month to secure your safety, with at least four days already spent by the time he reached St. Thomas. Loki’s grip tightened on the coin. If fate had pushed you together – and he firmly believed that hit had – then fate would keep you from being pulled apart.

~

Nearly a week later, The Duchess floated into the rainy port of St. Thomas. The sun peeked out occasionally behind the clouds while it showered. It was one of those odd, rainy summer days before hurricane season where the weather couldn’t quite whip up enough energy to storm with full rage and intensity; not yet.

The sailors were still tying the small merchant ship to the dock when the gangplank dropped and Loki descended from the ship, running down the slippery wharf so fast that he nearly stumbled. He dodged the men loading crates, ducking underneath a load of lumber carried between two sailors, and climbed the cobble stairs with exhausted determination.

Home was only a few hours away, but Loki wasn’t headed there; not yet. Instead he headed up the street, doing his best to keep his tired legs from giving out underneath him. He made a right and found the corner bar, stumbling inside. This was the place you and Loki had first encountered one another, but also somewhere that he’d frequented long before your fateful meeting. The creaking floorboards beneath his feet were as familiar as the mattress of his own bed, and the heady smells of mahogany and beer reassured his senses that he was safe. Home. 

Being the middle of the day, the corner bar was totally devoid of customers. Light streamed in through the fogged windows while the building’s only occupant, the bartender, polished glasses behind the counter with monotonous repetition, glancing up only when Loki pulled himself into one of the barstools and leaned against the counter, his hair and clothes dripping wet. The only sounds were the steady shower of light rain outside and the squeak of fabric rubbed against glass.

“You’re a bit early in the day, young master,” The bartender observed curiously. The man sported a heavy accent behind his mustache, but his tone was good-natured and amiable. He was as much a part of the bar as the polished countertop and neatly lined bottles on the shelves behind him.

“I need a drink,” Loki said hoarsely, dropping his head into one hand and massaging his temples. His whole body ached, inside and out. Beating slow inside his chest, Loki’s heart weighed him down as though it was made of lead.

The glass slid down the counter and Loki caught it with his free hand: cold, polished glass with dark liquor inside. He tilted his head back and downed it in one go, setting the empty cup down on the polished wood. The bartender refilled it without asking, handing it back to him before returning to his former task. He polished the cups until they sparkled like crystal, despite the fact that they were already clean; no doubt it was a soothing, repetitive notion to help the empty afternoon hours pass by. “You ‘ere to talk, or just drink?”

Loki scoffed. “What’s there to talk about?” He asked, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing them tiredly. Dull sparks floated behind his vision, signs of dehydration and an oncoming headache.

“Fair ‘nough, sir. I won’t press you.”

Loki dropped his hand and regarded the man with a flat expression. His mouth pressed into a thin line, and he dropped his gaze, spinning the glass of liquor in his hand. He stared at the distorted wood pattern of the bartop through the brown liquor. 

The bartender watched him with soft, dark eyes for a moment longer before he tried again. “Is it a woman?”

“Of course it’s a woman,” Loki snapped, though his words didn’t have much bite; they never did when he was telling the truth. He thumbed the rim of the glass. “It’s the woman,” he admitted, more quietly.

The bartender nodded knowingly, tossing his rag aside and fetching a fresh one. “She leave you?” He asked, his tone conversational and unassuming, from decades of practice with discussions far more delicate than this one. 

Loki shook his head. His wet raven hair slipped past his shoulders when he did, falling in gentle waves past his ears and smelling of saltwater. “No. I lost her.” He frowned at the sudden blurriness in his eyes, downing his second glass and setting it down with a gentle thud. He sniffed. Straightened in his seat. “I’m getting her back.” Whether he said this to reassure the bartender or himself, Loki wasn’t entirely sure.

The city bell tolled out the hour, bringing him back to a state of clarity. It was later than he’d thought. Loki reached into his pocket for money to pay – and then realized he didn’t have any, apart from the serpent coin. The coin he couldn’t give away. Loki stalled, his elegant fingers still at his sides while he tried to think of a solution to this sudden dilemma. 

The bartender noticed his hesitation and extended his hand with a polite shake of his head. “You’ve been generous in the past, young master,” he stated. “I trust you’ll be back.”

Loki met his eyes. Normally he would take offense to a gesture of charity; Loki had never lacked for money, not once in his life, and he never intended to. But if he’d learnt anything from the past weeks, it was that even his best intentions didn’t guarantee the future. He met the bartender’s eyes and found them to be soft and reassuring. He bowed his head. “Thank you.”

The man shrugged, like it wasn’t any problem to him, taking Loki’s empty glass and polishing it alongside all the rest. “Bring your woman next time.”

Loki laughed once, humorlessly, and stood. “I will,” he promised, with a final nod of thanks before he turned his back to the bartender and walked back out towards the drenched cobblestone street, feeling renewed somehow – perhaps by the drink, though more likely by the man’s kindness. Not everyone in the world was bloodthirsty and rotten.

Not everyone in the world is a pirate, Loki thought. Of course, he considered himself a rare exception: Loki was a pirate, yes, but a reputable one. Honorable, even. However – somewhere deep in his heart – Loki was beginning to come to terms with the fact that getting you back might permanently soil that reputation. He intended to do whatever it took, however foul, even if it meant killing Vane and all his crewmen with his bare hands.

Would you be able to love him, if it came to that? If he became a murderer? Would you let him touch you with bloody hands, or would you turn away in fear and disgust?

The thought disquieted him, and he shook his head to clear the thought. Whether you hated him or not at the end of this didn’t matter, so long as you got out alive. He owed you that much. 

His seaglass eyes looked up instinctively towards the road that he knew lead home, but he turned the opposite way instead: there was still one more errand to run. 

In order for Loki to both save you and maintain a clear ledger inside his father’s business, he had to find a way to combine the two. That meant enlisting in his family’s help, while simultaneously making it look like he wasn’t involved at all. During his time floating adrift in the waves, waiting for the sunrise, Loki had surmised a plan of action. With some skill, and a great deal of luck, it would prove itself successful.

He hoped his luck hadn’t run out yet.

Loki found himself in a familiar backside alley, the entrance hidden behind empty fruit crates stacked six feet high. He stepped carefully down the narrow cobble path, wrinkling his nose at the stench of city sludge and old bathwater dumped unceremoniously onto the ground. The clotheslines above hung limp in the afternoon, the fabric heavy and wet from the rain – whoever put them out had neglected to retrieve them. He found the heavy wooden door with gold hinges and knocked, twice. Then he stepped back into the rain, no more than a light mist at this point, and waited. 

He was considering turning away when it finally opened. The man who answered the door had dark skin and eyes that shimmered like copper. His hair fell over his broad shoulders in locs, decorated with metal clasps. His face wore a stern expression that revealed exactly nothing, and he waited with one hand on the door – prepared to shut it again at a moment’s notice. “Yes?”

“Heimdall,” Loki greeted solemnly, and glanced out at the alley for listening ears.

“You don’t have an appointment.”

“This isn’t my usual business,” he explained, squinting as misty rainwater dripped down his face and clung to his eyelashes. “It’ll be quick. I only need one page; no forgings, no signatures. It just can’t be my hand.”

The dark man hesitated, gripping the door while he considered this. Loki’s clothes stuck to him, and he silently wished that Heimdall would at least let him inside, but he knew not to press the matter. Their relationship was a strictly professional one, and he knew how much he was asking. “I’ll pay twice whatever you ask,” he added.

Heimdall’s copper eyes met Loki’s, his expression still flat, and then he opened the door further. “Come in. Don’t sit. You’ll ruin the chair.”

Loki obliged, stepping in quickly. The room was dark and smelled of leather, lit only by candles and the narrow, cross-hatched windows that lined one wall. The other three sides of the small, square space were lined by bookshelves, lined with bottles, parchment, and bookkeeper’s tools. Less conspicuously, there were a few shelves full of antiquated volumes, which he knew to contain ledgers upon ledgers of signatures and scripts. A forger’s library.

Heimdall sat down at the desk, dipping his quill into the inkwell. “You’re lucky. I’m not busy today.”

Loki nodded in agreement, feeling relieved. “Yes, I know – it’s short notice.”

“So,” Heimdall began without looking, pulling a clean sheet of plain paper from the desk drawer. “This isn’t a false shipping charter, or an inventory log, or a bank note. What is it?”

“A ransom letter.” Loki regretted revealing this information the moment it left his mouth, but he had no choice – better to tell it now, rather than when Heimdall started realizing it halfway through writing and risked blotting a page.

Heimdall’s metallic eyes flitted up and he frowned at Loki, setting the quill down and leaning back in his chair. “Now, why would you want me to write that?”

Loki looked up and set his jaw, shaking his head slightly. “That, I can’t tell you.”

Heimdall regarded him silently. Whether it was judgement, scrutiny, contemplation, Loki couldn’t say for certain. Heimdall’s expression didn’t change. While Loki respected his ability to be discreet, Heimdall’s strong-and-silent personality made reading him nigh impossible. Finally, he raised one eyebrow. “It’ll cost extra.”

Loki’s mouth opened slightly and he nearly rolled his eyes. “I can afford it,” he grated, feeling a flicker of agitation in his chest that the man would even be concerned about such a thing. “This isn’t a fleeting interest. Give me what I want, receipt it under my private catalogue, and I’ll be on my way. ”

Heimdall sighed and picked up his quill again, leaning over the desk. “Fine.”

Loki inhaled deeply, raising his eyebrows and directing his gaze to the ceiling. He’d been devising a speech from memory for a week, running it over his tongue inside his mouth and sounding it out when no one was around. He dropped his eyes and began reciting the words from memory, watching Heimdall’s skilled hand start painting the words on the page almost as soon as he spoke. “To his esteemed grace who receives this note …”

~

“... I hope it finds in a prosperous enough position to enable us both to get what we want,” Thor read aloud, his elegant brow furrowed in both concentration. He unfolded the letter further and skimmed a few more lines silently. Flipped it over, and found no return address.  He looked up at the maid standing at the door and held it up in the air. “What is this?”

Her eyes were wide with innocence and confusion. “I – I don’t know, sir, it was delivered with all the rest.”

Loki sat silently at one end of the long table, holding a spoon in his hand and stirring the bowl of soup before him in slow, disinterested circles. Green flecks of some kind of vegetable rose and fell from its cream-colored surface; neat chunks of tomato, too, alongside pale meat cooked to perfection and pulled apart. 

It was a favorite of his. He knew this, somewhere in the back of his mind, but even the smell of it wafting up in gentle curls of steam failed to appetize him. Every ounce of his focus was bent on looking unassuming as Thor continued to read the note aloud; the note that he’d carefully hidden amongst the other letters, delivered at breakfast every morning.

“I have in my possession one soon-to-be bride of your eldest son. I understand she means a great deal to you, so let me get to the point: in exchange for 12,000 guineas, I will return her unharmed, so  long as the exchange is made at the end of August…”  Thor’s brow furrowed further. 

Loki had been home for three days– it was the ninth of August now, and an otherwise ordinary Wednesday morning. It felt strange to know the date again after being stuck on an island, where the only sense of time could be ascertained in the rise and set of the sun.

Only last night had he decided to risk delivering the note. Waiting to reveal your situation to Thor and his father was agony, but Loki couldn’t afford to take any kind of risk. The coincidence of his arrival and the note’s arrival on the same day would have been too close for comfort. Loki was cautious to a fault, and he was painfully aware of that fact: he was treading on your borrowed time, after all. His stomach twisted, feeling physically ill, and he abandoned the spoon entirely, staring out the window with a thinly veiled expression of discomfort as Thor finished reading.

“Otherwise, she will die gruesomely, after her usefulness and entertainment to us has been spent. With a letter V as the signit,” he added as an afterthought, setting the letter down carefully, like it might bite him. He reached for the envelope it had been delivered in and tilted it, and the serpent coin fell into his palm. He gazed at it in silence.

Loki was practically crawling out of his skin. “V,” he repeated, breaking the silence with false curiosity and looking between Thor and his father. “Like Charles Vane, perhaps? The pirate?”

“No doubt,” Odin replied amiably, reaching across the table for the letter. Thor handed it to him, his expression stony, waiting while their father read the ransom note over for himself. He let out a derisive scoff and shook his head, letting it drop. “Twelve thousand guineas.”

Thor’s handsome face lit on confusion. “You will pay the ransom, won’t you? Her ship was supposed to arrive in Norway weeks ago. Who knows how long she’s been held captive.”

“That much for one girl?” Odin said skeptically. “A girl who wasn’t keen on marrying you either, I recall. Ungrateful thing. The whole arrangement has been nothing more than a bad business venture.”

Loki’s face was dangerously pale, anger lighting up his veins like fire on alcohol. “But we have the money,” he argued, trying to keep his vocal tone only mildly invested. It cracked. “And you made a deal with her father.”

Thor nodded in agreement, though clearly exhibiting a great deal more patience. “Loki’s right, Father. We have a duty of care–” 

“Silence!” He interrupted, and they both shut their mouths. Odin set down his fork to eye both of them with a steely grey stare. “There is nothing we can do.”

“But we can,” Thor argued, leaning against the table on one hand and gesturing with the other. “We’ve seen the bank ledgers – Loki and I both,” he added, nodding to his brother. “Your wealth would hardly be dented. I don’t see why –” 

“I will not deal with pirates,” Odin groused firmly, his voice icy and cold.

Something inside Loki snapped. He stood abruptly, turning to Odin. The chair scraped on the ground behind him. 

“So that’s it, then,” he began. He was smiling, but in more a baring of teeth than an expression of joy. “You would first resign her to marry a man she doesn’t know, and then let her die when it’s inconvenient to help?” He pointed an accusing finger. “You’re just afraid Vane will slip through your grasp, the same way he did before, and wound your pride more than he ever could your prospects.” Loki realized that he was snarling, his lip curled and tone venomous, cheeks flushed uncharacteristically red but he didn’t care – it was too late now. The man who he called Father stared back with equal animosity, the two of them locked in heated, palpable silence.

Thor excused himself from the dining room with a quiet, grumbling apology, and Loki followed.

When he exited the room and the doors shut behind him, he saw Thor walking down the hall – but his footsteps were slow, and he clearly didn’t know where they intended on taking him. Loki’s eyes flickered, and he sighed, loud enough to draw Thor’s attention and halt his steps. 

He turned around and came to Loki’s side. He watched his brother reach up and press at his eyes, rubbing them none-too-gently, and he glanced back at the gilded door. “It sounded like you know a great deal about her,” he stated quietly, breaking the thin silence between them. His large hands were restless at his sides, wanting for actions instead of words. 

Loki dropped his hand and cleared his throat, and his eyes were distant. “I spoke with her at the ball before she left. You remember.”

Thor grunted, looking out the window. “I didn’t get the chance. I had business to attend to.”

Loki’s lips upturned in a bitter smirk. “You always do.” His gaze found the window, too, staring out at the palm fronds as they blew in the humid afternoon wind. His chest tightened with the reminder of your island – the trees and the cave, of your smaller body pressed beneath his, smelling sweet and tinged by saltwater. Of feeling complete.

Loki could only guess at how much his father knew. Thanks to his outburst, Odin knew Loki was aware of his true parentage – which meant it would only take one line drawn in the sand between Loki and Vane to connect the dots and undo all his work. Your life and Loki’s livelihood, felled in one devastating blow.

Thor was uncharacteristically still, a sign that he was deep in thought. His wide arms were crossed over his barrel of a chest, brow furrowed, and he shook his head almost imperceptibly, silently dissatisfied. “We have to do something.”

Loki scoffed and rolled his eyes, picking at the dark green fabric of his wide sleeves and spreading his fingers, staring disinterestedly at the faint scars that lined the back of his hand from years of seamanship. “Don’t humor me. You would never act outside father’s orders.”

“I would,” Thor argued, and paused, glancing over his shoulder at Loki. “If I had help.”

Loki’s expression flickered and he looked up, meeting Thor’s gaze. The two of them shared a silent exchange; the same kind that they had since boyhood, a silent discussion and a mutual agreement. Perhaps your cause wasn’t lost after all.

The corner of Thor’s mouth turned up in a smile, and he shrugged his broad shoulders, returning his gaze to the window. “Besides,” he added, “What kind of husband would I be if I couldn’t keep her alive?”

At the same time as a humoring chuckle left his lips, Loki’s breath was punched from his lungs. Realization hit him like a hollow bell – something he had forgotten to consider when he decided to enlist Thor’s help. The two of you were, by all accounts, still engaged. If Thor and Loki succeeded in rescuing you, you would wed him all the same, hopelessly stuck in the same trap as before. His mind searched frantically for an easy solution, some weakness in this sudden and unexpected obstacle, but to his growing panic he found none, and a feeling of utter hopelessness rooted inside his chest that was too deep to claw out.

Loki might yet be able to save your life. But it wouldn’t be a life with him that you’d return to.

~~~

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